[title]
When Clive Rowe’s oh-so-wonderful dame cruises onto the Hackney Empire stage on a Lime bike, it’s time to give in and accept that Christmas has started in London. Dressed to the nines in a candy floss pink, fully functioning handbag gown (one of many divine costumes by Cleo Pettitt that would look as good on the likes of Lady Gaga as they do a panto lead), he returns to the theatre he’s called his festive home for most of the last 16 years.
And as ever, we couldn’t be more pleased to see him. As Widow Twankey, he gets a hero’s welcome: Rowe is the undoubted Queen of the Panto Dames, after all. ‘Cooey,’ he shouts and we repeat, enthusiastically. Many of the audience are full-blown fans of Rowe’s signature tricks and catchphrases: here's a group in the row in front of me who are on their tenth annual visit. But luckily for us, it seems there is no place that Rowe – who also directs – would rather be.
He is the heart and soul of this ‘Aladdin’, which feels very much like a traditional panto – albeit devoid of any of the racial stereotypes that still seem to dog some regional productions of this story. Since its veteran writer-director Susie McKenna left in 2019, the Empire’s Christmas offering has become a considerably less political night out. And though it could get a few more laughs by adding a few more topical jokes, it still glows with timeless glee.
Outside of panto season Rowe is a musical theatre star, and the songs here – which include pop favourites ranging from Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’ to Chaka Khan’s ‘Ain’t Nobody’ – are some of the best you’ll see performed on stage this season. The supporting cast is somewhat overshadowed by Rowe’s presence, but they’re pitch-perfect and give it the best they’ve got. As Aladdin, Fred Double brings a real teenage charm: he looks as though he could melt each time Jazz (a doe-eyed and very good Isabella Mason) speaks to him. Ruth Lynch has wibbly-wobbly physicality as the slightly useless spirit of the ring. On a classic, 2D cardboard set, Will Brenton’s script leans into all the well-established tropes: there are puns aplenty, audience targeting (praise must go to the brave men Rowe selects as his love interests for each show), and slapstick boos in every scene. As with every good Christmas ritual, there’s a unique joy in knowing exactly what you’re going to get.
When Rowe eventually does hang up his high heels, the Hackney panto might be in risk of an identity crisis. But for now, it remains a juggernaut. Made with mountains of Christmas spirit, and a dash of glitz and glamour, it serves up family fun and good old-fashioned festivity with all the trimmings.