Behind the scenes in Basildon at Jack and the Beanstalk (From Echo)

Behind the scenes in Basildon at Jack and the Beanstalk

9:00pm Friday 25th December 2009 in

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WHAT is it really like to live in panto fairyland? The audience at this year’s Basildon panto, Jack and the Beanstalk, get to see a magical, well-ordered world.

There may be hardships and evil-doings along the way, but eventually wishes come true and happy endings come with a warranty attached.

Is it the same, though, for the performers who occupy the other side of that real-life equivalent of Jack’s beanstalk, the stage curtain?

The chance to find out came with an invitation from a Basildon Council press officer to visit behind the scenes.

To ensure gritty reality, we arrived at 9.30am. As if evil fairies and man-eating giants weren’t enough to contend with, the cast of Jack also had to face getting out of bed on time.

In the ordered chaos, the inhabitants of panto fairyland didn’t have much time to talk to the press.

Jack, aka director Simon Fielding, was shaving. Elves were hurtling around, looking for their ears. On the other side of the curtain, school parties had already been seated, and were starting to sound restless. Now the cast faced a new sort of pressure.

Seizing the opportunity provided by panto fairyland, the Echo had requested three wishes. Wish one was to pose with the panto cow, an all-singing, all-dancing flirt named Susan Boyle who had almost stolen the show on opening night.

The two 14-year-old dancers inside the cow costume, Dilly Wass and Hana Cox, proved friendly and informative. But Hana warned me and photographer Anna Lukala: “Susan can be a bit of a diva.” She was right.

Dilly and Hana disappeared into Susan, and the bloody bovine promptly changed character. More like a mule than a cow, she refused to be cuddled, sulked when asked to sing, wandered off to do her own thing and then charged and rammed me in the bottom with her horns when I bent down to do up my shoelace.

This is not what’s supposed to happen when a wish comes true.

Still, Wish No 2 – to climb the beanstalk – promised better results. I met Simon Fielding, now in full costume, by the giant legume. It is an impressive piece of joinery, rising high into the void above the stage. Tucked into it are footholds, invisible to the audience. This was going to be exciting.

“How high can I go?” I asked.

“I’m sorry,” Jack muttered. “Insurance. Health and Safety. You know the score.”

I had to be content with helping Jack, who is insured and has a safety harness, a leg up.

Still, Wish No 3 couldn’t fail. I’d asked to kiss the beautiful princess. Where was she, though?

It was six minutes to curtain-up. A harassed looking stage manageress held up her stopwatch.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the stage in a minute,” she said. “We have a very tightly timed schedule.”

“The princess is just finishing dressing. Sorry about that. She should be with you in two minutes,” said the press officer.

Even in fairyland, men hang around waiting for women to finish dressing.

Finally, there was a stir in the wings and there she was. A real life fairytale princess, looking radiant. And cross. And flustered. It was 10.01am. We had delayed curtain-up. On the other side of the curtain, in invisible auditorium land, the impatient roars from the school parties were growing louder.

The lovely princess, played by Sophie Ladds, spoke: “I’m sorry, nobody told me about this. What do we have to do.”

“I’ve won three Fairyland wishes. One of them is I get to kiss the princess,” I explained. At this moment, the princess returned to panto roots. She said nothing. But her ability to express herself through body and facial language was masterly.

But we had to get the photo. Beyond the curtain, there was what sounded like the first catcall. The stage manageress was chewing her stopwatch. Then – inspiration!

“Just an air kiss,” I said. The look of relief on the royal countenance was instant. Professional discipline restored, she beamed for the camera: “Miaow.” Click.

Picture taken. The princess was so relieved that, to my shock, she air-kissed me back. Then we actually ran off stage.

On the way, we passed a tall, satanic figure in black – the evil fairy, waiting to spread mayhem.

“Good morning, how are you,” she asked, and beamed sweetly. Pantoland really is topsy-turvy.

Outside, the real-life world of Basildon suddenly took on a new air.

There was one further wish to be fulfilled, something that panto fairyland, for all its treasures, hadn’t been able to provide – a nice cup of tea.

Now that’s what I call a happy ending.