Written by Johnny McKnight

Directed by Martin McCormick

It’s hard enough getting one maw a gift for their Christmas, let alone seven. So thank heavens that the Òran Mór’s Winter Pantomime, Snow White and the Seven Maws, from Scotland’s panto maestro Johnny McKnight, makes the perfect pre-stocking stuffer for audiences in Glasgow and Scotland. Cram packed with filthy humour and classic festive activities, Òran Mór continues to offer a festive treat with a touch more bite – and that’s not even the pies.

In ways, McKnight’s Snow White and the Seven Maws is very much what one would expect: wicked stepmother, seven adjective-descriptive helpers, a poisoned apple, and a hand mirror which has a habit of appearing in thin air (Yolanda Mitchell offering plenty of assistance on and off-stage throughout). But there’s more of that pantomime magic, even if the story and jokes occasionally dip into the tried-and-tested format.

The decision to substitute the seven dwarfs for the seven maws offers an undeniably Scottish angle to the affair, with an entire spectrum of the communities across Glasgow on full and glorious display as Carmen Pieraccini and Maureen Carr switch between all too familiar versions of Disney dwarfs with names/characters such as Crabby, Riddy, Bampot, or Dopey, all carried through with some strong characterisation and introduction with NcCormick’s very quick-paced direction.

All these Maws grow to love and care for the Princess they only met ten minutes ago and keep her safe from the utterly fabulous, if a touch unhinged, take on the Evil Queen who, for once, has some decent arguments in their attempted regicide. And where the budget of the show may only extend to a couple of Christmas trees and a prop or two, the casting is excellent for the show, as Pieraccini devours the set in a beautiful blend of hammy cruelty in Queen Valentina quest to remove Snow White from the picture and stop the happily ever after of the privileged and wealthy.

This isn’t your regular fairytale romp though, as Julie Cullen’s innocent and skittering movements as Snow White lull audiences into the child-friendly illusion of the character they think they know, unprepared for some striking moments and foul-mouthed gags to spring forth from beyond that dainty bob. Usually relegated to a few cheerful ditties, Cullen’s Snow White gets right in on the action alongside John Gibson and co with Amy Scott’s choreography. And there’s nae need for Prince Charming here: this Snow White is packin’ – not like that.

Written with the expectant edge for the Òran Mór panto, McKnight’s script manages to be filthy, without being filthy. It stitches breaks in the fourth wall, interactions, swearing and crude jokes with an impact, and the cast has the confidence not to rely on shock or gross-out humour without substance and avoid diluting the punch lines. Certainly not to say there aren’t gasp-worthy moments. The opening song alone uses some terrifically timed wordplay to keep the audience on their toes.

Adept at the subversion and with precise comic timing is Neil John Gibson as our dame for the season – Hedda Lettuce. Smarmy, smooth, with just the right level of delivery that keeps the bluer jokes tasteful, and some of the best audience interaction on the scene, Gibson works with some recycled and expected material but still offers a ‘freshness’ with their character and jabs with a very keen and eager crowd. It makes for an assured bet of a pantomime, one where no one is going to leave feeling let down.

With a tighter budget than Scrooge’s purse strings, Snow White and the Seven Maws use this to their advantage and get creative with their casting – leading to additional laughs and natural chemistry. It’s injected full of jokes and silliness to a degree where it’s difficult not to laugh at even the most ridiculous set-ups. Additionally it comes with one of the most unique ‘happy endings’ a panto can muster up: don’t say we didn’t warn you. Take yer maw, both, all seven of them, down to the Òran Mór to tick off another year of tradition with a tongue-in-cheek, if slightly by the playbook, bite at the panto apple. No poison this time, promise.

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