The magical opening night is now history, and Ballet West's "Nutcracker" 1993 is up, up and away, and off for its long holiday run - roughly equivalent to Santa's circling the globe. Well, maybe not quite so far; but almost, if you count the up and down motion as well as the horizontal. And surely this "Nutcracker" brings almost as much joy to fortunate Utahns as does the jolly old elf himself.
Opening night was charged with energy, and filled with the showmanship for which Ballet West dancers are noted, as expert ensembles and solos quickly succeeded one another, promising much for coming performances.This "Nutcracker," not far from 40 years old, is a miracle, freshly burnished each year, and endowed with the bouncy, ebullient good humor and enthusiasm that are Willam Christensen's legacy.
This year's production is dedicated to the memory of Maurice Abravanel, who encouraged Christensen to create Utah's own "Nutcracker" and conducted its seasons with Utah Symphony for many years.
Certain changes have been made that improve the visual effect, most notably the dusty rose that has succeeded the original dull grey backdrops of the party scene. And the colors of some dresses have been tamed for a more harmonious effect. (Thank you very much for dyeing that lime-green maid's uniform!)
The women still have preposterous hairdos, but the gowns' wide shoulders and skirts and lacy pantaloons grow on you. Change always brings with it a certain culture shock; remember how people at first hated the bustles in the previous set of costumes?
Writing a story about backstage at "The Nutcracker" made me more than usually conscious of the smoothness with which this production runs. There are plenty of possibilities for goof-ups, but the crew successfully bypasses them, making their quick changes, fog, transformations and cannon shot perfectly on cue.
Indeed "The Nutcracker," and ballet in general, is an exercise in risk-taking, akin to trapeze artistry for thrills. But Ballet West dancers are so disciplined, they pass over the pitfalls so joyously that their audiences need never fear the outcome. All this, while frequently dancing three or four parts during a performance.
The party scene crackles with Christmas festivity from both children and adults, as toys are distributed, group dancing is enjoyed, and tired guests bid goodnight. Megan Murdock is an appealing Clara, who seems to be enjoying herself to the hilt, with Patrick Fugit as her bratty brother Fritz.
Gilles Maidon is a fine, pointed Drosselmeyer, whose significant gestures arrive just on time and whose magic you really believe, as he commands the tree to grow and the Nutcracker Prince (J. Kristopher Payne) to appear.
The mouse-and-soldier fight is a marvelous choreography, based on split-second timing and fulfilled with relish. The soldiers, blue and red, march with great precision and determination, while the squeaky mice in their bottom-heavy suits create individual characters to match their funny masks. And who can resist Robert Eberly's arrogant Mouse King, so surprised by his own death?
Among individual artists, Wendee Fiedeldey leads off with a Sugar Plum Fairy that's poised and gracious and technically brilliant. Richard Bradley's Cavalier is a little rough-hewn but accurate and daring in solo variation, and he's a strong partner.
Snow royalty Jane Wood and Jeffrey Rogers are developing a partnership of good rapport, with similar elegance and quicksilver lightness. And the Snowflakes have seldom been in better sync, turning and whirling with rising excitement, like a wind-driven winter flurry.
Lisa Choules is a sensuous, pliant Arabian charmer, masterfully partnered by Raymond Van Mason. Foremost among the flowers, Maggie Wright and Christopher Young deliver with lively aplomb. Virginia Hagood makes mechanization delightfully dainty as the doll, and Jiang Qi flies high as always in the Chinese variation.
Utahns (and any out of state visitors) may now enjoy "The Nutcracker" in its further performances. Every day there's something, except on Christmas and Sundays, through Dec. 31.