IT is three years since Aladdie, the last of Forbes Masson's trio of pastiche pantomimes at the Tron, but the spirit of those exceptional shows lives on. The Glasgow theatre may be without a director, but, in Gordon Dougall and Fletcher Mathers's Eeting Beauty, it has a Christmas show worth celebrating.

Set in Panto City, capital of Pantoland, in (where else?) the Pantosphere, the show rolls two current social crises (the national obesity alert and the shortage of NHS dentists) into one satirical whole. Thanks to the not-particularly-helpful intervention of the hapless Faerie Fumblethistle, the titular heroine lives under a distorted curse. Whereas her namesake Sleeping Beauty's sentence was commuted from death to 100 years of sleep, Princess Bess (aka Eeting Beauty) faces the threat of a century of gorging on unhealthy comestibles.

Due to the evil machinations of her resentful kinsman Uncle Bumbleerie and his pet bird McGraw the Craw, if Bess should prick her gum on a toothbrush, she will develop an appetite the size of China. Her father, the King, bans toothbrushes, and a lifetime of halitosis is in prospect. Where oh where is our saviour, Prince No Name the Nameless, Who's Blameless, Shameless and Hameless?

Assisting the princess through her travails is her loyal pig, Porky. One might have thought that the hog's ever-present mascot Stinky Linky (a putrid, mold-ridden sausage link) would put Bess off food for life. That, however, would be to reckon without Bumbleerie's horribly ingenious force-feeding machine.

It isn't difficult to see where Dougall and Mathers found their inspiration. In its unrestrained, lurid preposterousness, Eeting Beauty clearly has its roots in Masson's postmodern classics. In truth, in the early stages, it looks unlikely that they are going to pull it off; the jokes about current affairs, children's stories and panto itself are (like many a Masson gag) too complex for the youngsters, but (unlike Masson's comedy) not funny enough for adults.

Matters are soon put right, however, as the piece gets into its comedic stride. There are top notch performances all round, with Barry Hunter (who spends half the show with his trousers round his ankles) outstandingly cartoonish as Bumbleerie, Mark Prendergast fabulously daft (and in great singing voice) as Prince Nameless and Katrina Bryan tremendously dippy as Princess Bess.

Played on Kenny Miller's wonderfully garish set, and with a fine video montage remembering the late Bob Carr (an exceptional, muscular dame in many a Tron panto), the show wears its debt to Masson openly and honestly. It may not quite reach his heights, but it comes tantalisingly close.

If the Tron show does a sterling job of sending up the conventions of pantomime, Dundee Rep's Jack And The Beanstalk looks a little shaky by comparison. Written by long-standing Rep ensemble member Robert Paterson, the piece seems to have something of an identity crisis. Apparently unable to decide whether it wants to be like a big stage, traditional panto or a Tron-style pastiche, it ends up falling uncomfortably between the two.

Whether it is the banal references to celebrities or the obvious gags about John Buick's cross-dressed status as Jack's enormous-breasted mother, Alice, Paterson's script is largely faithful to the traditional panto formula. Yet there are elements (such as Keith Fleming's ambiguous, single leather glove-wearing baddie Rufus Dogsbottom) which seem to be aiming for a more nuanced, satirical approach.

As ever with the Rep, there are nice performances all over the place; from Kevin Lennon's energetic Jack, to Ann Louise Ross as Mrs Boggin (the giant's housekeeper), and Martin McCormick's part-acting, part-circus skills performance as the stilt-walking giant. One only wishes that Paterson and director James Brining had made up their minds exactly what kind of Christmas show they wanted to create.

There's no such lack of direction in The Water Babies, Andy Arnold's charming staging (for children aged three and over) of Charles Kingsley's classic tale. The emphasis is on simple, stylish theatrical storytelling so any fears that Tom, Kingsley's escaped chimney sweep, might have been given the panto treatment are entirely unfounded.

Arches regular Stewart Ennis doubles as the narrator and Tom's horrible exploiter Mr Grimes (a cross between Scrooge and Attila the Hun). He proves to be an endearingly calming presence for nursery school audiences, raising the fake nose and moustache which transform him into Grimes to reassure late arrivals that beneath the gruff facade of an avaricious slave driver there is a kindly actor.

Neil Campbell plays Tom - the boy who escapes his master and plunges into a pool of water, thus discovering the water babies - with a wide-eyed innocence which has the young theatregoers hooked. Add a series of lovely puppets - representing characters from the babies themselves to a huge, hungry otter - and some clever video work and you have a winning combination.

There are fine supporting performances from Julie Brown (as Tom's protecting fairy) and Isabelle Joss (as Ellie, the little girl Tom befriends), and a crystal clear expression of the story's moral (a version of the age old injunction to "do unto others as you would have them do unto you").

The element which clinches this as a complete piece of children's theatre is the live music. Performed, for the most part, by the talented Alasdair Macrae, it has a gentle harmony which helps to knit together a really enchanting, beautifully balanced presentation.