Person: Kitty Dawes

Lords and Ladies

It’s a hot midsummer’s night in the tiny kingdom of Lancre, up in the far northern hill country of Discworld. Crop circles are turning up everywhere, bursting like raindrops, a portent of wayward magic leaking into the land from between the standing stones known as ‘The Dancers’.

Magrat Garlick, witch, is getting married in the morning – to King Verence of Lancre no less. The wizards of the Unseen University are journeying north from the great city of Ankh-Morpork to bless the union, and the Lancre All-Comers Morris Team have been lined up to stage a rustic entertainment for the happy couple. In short, everything should be going like a dream.

But all is not well in Lancre. Elves, long banished from the human realm are pushing at the iron boundaries of their barren winter land, bringing with them all those things traditionally associated with the magical, glittering realm of faerie: cruelty, kidnapping, malice and murder.

‘The Dancers’ form the gateway between the two worlds, and for many years, Granny Weatherwax and her tiny argumentative coven have worked to keep that portal tightly closed. But now a new coven, led by the young, ambitious and wilful Diamanda (real name Lucy Tockley, but Diamanda sounds so much better) are determined to overturn the old order…

And when the Lancre morris team gets seriously drunk on a fairy mound, all Hell is ready to break loose. In short, it’s a festival of dwarves, wizards, trolls, morris dancers – plus an orang-utan, with a fair helping of hey-nonny-nonny and blood all over the place… We hope you enjoy tonight’s performance!

A big thank you to Debbie Bradshaw and Katy Tupholme at Bluetree Design and Print of Rotherham for designing our posters for the production, and to Mark Lewis and Nick Hewson at Mastercolour of Tunbridge Wells for printing them.

‘Lords and Ladies’ (1992) is adapted from the comic fantasy novel by prolific author Terry Pratchett, his fourteenth set on Discworld, and the fourth to feature the Lancre coven of witches led by the redoubtable Esmerelda ‘Esme’ Weatherwax, a character who Pratchett clearly enjoyed revisiting. Astonishingly successful, he sold over 100 million copies of his books, forty-one of which were Discworld novels, and he was awarded first the OBE in 1998 and then a knighthood in 2009. He died at the age 66, from complications relating to Alzheimer’s Disease, which he had been diagnosed with in 2007.
 
Following on from ‘Wyrd Sisters’ in 1995 and ‘Mort’ in 1997, ‘Lords and Ladies’ is the third stage adaptation of a Discworld novel that Theatre Workshop Coulsdon have undertaken, and any similarities to Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ are purely intentional. Nor is it a coincidence that all three have been directed by Mike Brown.

The Hunchback Of Notre Dame – The Panto

 

‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ was originally a novel by celebrated French writer Victor Hugo, first published in 1831. Set in 15th Century Paris, it centres on the unrequited love that Quasimodo, the deformed bell-ringer of the famous cathedral, has for Esmerelda, a beautiful Romani dancer. Sadly, she only has eyes for the handsome captain Phoebus of the King’s archers, but unknown to the young girl, Phoebus is vain, untrustworthy and a womanizer. Esmeralda’s beauty has also attracted two other men, a poet, Gringoire, and the darkly motivated arch-deacon of Notre Dame Cathedral, Claude Frollo, who is also Quasimodo’s guardian. It’s an epic tale of misplaced love, exploring themes on social marginalisation and even the power of architecture, and ends in tragedy. So, absolutely perfect for a TWC panto then!

With the addition of broker’s men Ratatouille and Cassoulet, not to mention the uproarious Frottez LaToilette well and truly putting the Dame into Madame, this is great French literature as you’ve never seen it before! (let’s not even talk about the Disney cartoon, eh?) Oh, and the goat? Jingli Jangli? Not Mr Lloyd’s invention. Victor Hugo gave us Djali the goat (we changed the name to protect the innocent) on whom Gringoire becomes oddly fixated, with tragic results. Ah, the French. Qu’est-ce que c’est?

 

The Merry Wives of Windsor

‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’ is one of Shakespeare’s more unusual comedies. No strange land for this one for a start. No far-flung Illyria, exotic Messina or Syracuse, but instead the action centres round The Garter Inn in Windsor. A real place no less, and one that stands to this day. Similarly, the Princes, Dukes and sundry other nobles that inhabit so many of his tales are notable by their complete absence, replaced by the title-less and newly prosperous middle classes. The only knight of the realm that features is the rascally, roguish Sir John Falstaff, a knave who sets out with poor intentions to fool the good wives of Windsor out of money, but fails spectacularly at every turn.

It is said that the character of Falstaff was one that Queen Elizabeth herself was most fond of. He appeared first in Henry IV Part One, and again in Henry IV Part Two, a portly, aging disreputable sot, too fond of his drink and of cheap women, forever lacking in funds. Quick to borrow, never to repay, and cowardly to boot, Falstaff does retain a certain charm and zest for life, and it’s this, for a time, that endears him to Prince Hal. However, when the prince becomes the King, all his former life is left behind, including Falstaff. In Henry V, Mistress Quickly delivers a eulogy outlining the circumstances of his death, and there, one might suppose, was the end of him. If a queen commands though, a humble playwright must write, and so, two years after his death, Sir John Falstaff lived again.

So ‘The Merry Wives…’ is what we would call today a ‘prequel’. Reunited with his low-life comrades, Pistol, Nym and Bardolph (the latter two also dying in Henry V, executed for looting), Falstaff unknowingly engages in a battle of wits with Mistress Page and Mistress Ford and finds himself distinctly unarmed, or at least badly under-gunned. Unlike the bittersweet nature of his antics in the histories though, these adventures are purely comedy, descending almost into farce. It dispenses with the oft-used conventions of romantic comedy, such as the mistaken identity, the flirtatious wordplay, the lovesick entanglements, and replaces them with Falstaff, the aging would-be suitor and lothario (supremely lacking in self-awareness) falling for the tricks being being played on him. In parallel, middle-aged, middle-class Francis Ford, consumed with ill-founded jealousy, repeatedly makes a fool of himself while attempting to prove, vainly, his wife an adulterer.

It’s funny, but this, undoubtedly the most original of Shakespeare’s works, drawing on no ancient text or foreign translation, is looked down upon by numerous scholars of the Bard. They seem to forget that the texts weren’t designed to be pored over, dissected and examined by fusty literary experts. It was created to have life on the stage, uproarious, physical life as popular entertainment.

And that is what you have before you. Enjoy.