Aan Stanford believes that panto gets a raw deal. He’s currently directing the quite magical, magnificent and redemptive A Christmas Carol at the Gate theatre which well deserves a Christmas visit but Stanford sees no qualititive difference between directing that play and directing Sleeping Beauty, this year’s panto at the Gaiety. But would he agree that many theatre-snobs dismiss the art of panto?

“Panto is one of the great pieces of classic theatre, one of the greatest traditional theatrical forms which has, incidentally, been carried out in the Gaiety for 128 years,” he responds. “And the Gaiety have their own tradition of panto. I, personally, remember it going back 30 years to Maureen Potter and Jimmy O’Dea, and beyond. Also, in the Gaiety at Christmas every year we get a a new Irish play! They don’t buy in scripts, they don’t do something someone did, say, in Brighton two years ago, it is an original panto, created not just by the writers but very much workshopped on-the-floor by the actors. So what you see is utterly unique. And it is a privilige to work in. As for those who dismiss panto? They are idiots.”

Alan Stanford also argues for the art of panto in the sense that it is “the first experience of theatre children have” and that it can, therefore, kick-start a lifetime habit of attending plays.

“And it is one of the oldest forms of theatre in Europe, a joy to do, certainly, as I say, for me,” he continues. “This is my second year and last year we did Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs and I had such fun. I even put a funeral in the Second Act, which was quite radical! She eats the apple and dies, okay? So we put her in a coffin and we had a huge lament and we had all the kids and the dwarves bringing flowers and things and I looked at the audience and saw all these kids with tears streaming down their faces. And their mothers saying, ‘It’s OK, she’ll come alive again, I promise!’ And, of course, she does. But isn’t it wonderful to be able to touch kids like that, move them emotionally? Particularly kids who are used to zapping thing on computers or whatever. You can take them into a theatre and give them a totally new experience, makes them laugh, make them cry. It’s brilliant!”

That said, surely Alan Stanford, who started acting by “putting a plank on blocks in the back garden” when he was five and growing up on the Isle of Wight, can also look out into that audience and see himself as a kid?

“Absolutely! He’s still there! And he’s so glad that he jumped up on those blocks in the first place. In fact, I wouldn’t change what I do for anything in the world,” says Alan, obviously referring to the fact that apart from directing he also is one of Ireland’s most renowned actors, with roles that range from George in Glenroe to Herod in Salome.

“For 11 years of my life I was in peoples’ living rooms on Sunday night and people still, nine years after I left the series, say ‘Hi George!’ Because they have made a point of identification with my character. And you’re right to make that analogy with me as a child. But I can take it further back in theatrical history! Somewhere deep down inside me I’m still on a cart in a stableyard of an Inn, standing on a platform doing a play! And I am a minimalist, whether that applies to A Christmas Carol or Sleeping Beauty. Such shows are very cleverly designed but I really do believe in keeping things incredibly simple and pure. I’m not one for flamboyance or for outrageous effects. Some directors are described as ‘brilliant’ because of their pyrotechnics, I don’t do that. I just put actors on a stage and let them act because that’s where I believe the centre of theatre is. There is nothing so potent or powerful as an actor acting.”

Is Alan Stanford proud of himself?

“I am proud when I’ve done my job well,” he responds. “And I will explain that for you. I was asked recently, among a group of three directors, what we thought the function of a director is. We all came up with different things. But I said I think the job of a director – and I think this also is true of actors – is rather like the job of a barrister. You put the play in the dock and you keep questioning it till it tells the truth.”