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Once upon a time, on a spot not very far away from where I was sitting tonight, another person sat and watched the very first full length Nutcracker to be seen in England. That Nutcracker was conjured up by a Russian “Drosselmeyer”, Nikolai Grigoriyevich Sergeyev, with the aid of his prodigious memory and his Stepanov notation scores, for the Vic-Wells Ballet in the last incarnation of Sadler’s Wells theatre merely seventy years ago.

Now a secular Christmas just isn’t a secular Christmas without it. Go to the United States after Thanksgiving and you risk being Nutcrackered to death -and you thought it was bad here! Nutcracker dolls, Tchaikowsky -jazz versions, funky versions, straight versions - being mangled by tinny sound systems in every shop, foyer and elevator, Nutcracker wrapping paper, Nutcracker sweaters, scarves, hats.... It’s bad enough in Michigan when it is at least -usually - snowing, but in Florida?

In a brief five decades the Nutcracker has become the backbone of many a ballet company whether publicly or privately funded. It is a brave company indeed that can afford to let a Christmas go without a Nutcracker knowing that it can underwrite a large chunk of the following year’s mixed bills and new work. Whilst there will always be a new un-Nutcrackered audience and maybe even some un-Nutcrackered dancers, not least for the sake of sanity, most companies will try to stamp their own identity on it and to find a novel approach.

It is perhaps unfortunate that London has only just had the chance to see Mark Morris’ 1991 version. Those who may be unaware of its precedence may notice a striking resemblance in Matthew Bourne’s 1992 production, seen here at the Wells last year, and Derek Deane’s 1997 production, last seen in 2000. All productions had women, or female characters at least, wearing New Look dress lines and variations on beehive hair. Derek Deane’s even had a Barbie doll and robot. Peter Wright’s BRB Nutcracker had radio controlled mice.

Charles Burns artwork for The Hard Nut
© Charles Burns

Adrianne Lobel’s Charles Burns inspired sets were pleasingly dramatic. The world map with red lights reminding us of the countries through which Drosselmeyer travels on his quest (even if not all of the character dances did) was a wonderfully Dr Strangelove segment. Unfortunately the biggest let down was the transformation scene. Much like Lucy trying to convince Charlie Brown that snow grows up, this designer wanted to convince us that the giant tree cutout slides noisily sideways while someone tries to sneak the original surreptitiously off. There are rules that can be broken but some conventions are sacred.

The snow scene had amusing fistsful of “snow” flung with suitably musical co-ordination at the climax but alas the dancing wasn’t equal to it. It is one thing to satirise the storyline and poke gentle fun of our balletic expectations but, at times, this production tends to slide into plain “can’t do ballet” while the score, realised by the Royal Ballet Sinfonia under the baton of Robert Cole, swells gloriously underneath. The grand pas de deux suffered a similar fate, with the movement continually undercutting the musical demands. Morris’ choreography simply doesn’t have the scope to fill a nineteenth century Romantic score.

The character dances were on the whole disappointing with the notable exception of Bradon McDonald and Michelle Yard’s Spanish dance, replete with a full size bull’s horns headdress. It was a mistake to put non-ballet specialists en pointe. Weak-arched feet, low arabesques, turned in pas de chat and not very split split jetés were deflating. Equally, bourees don’t really work off pointe when used as frequently as they were for the snowflakes and when executed in a sort of demi-second that clearly provided a challenge to some of the company.

The waltz of the flowers produced lovely patterns in places but the drooping shuffle was repeated far too frequently and the choreography for the Queen couldn’t quite sustain the mood. I liked the fact though that the two big set pieces of snowflakes and waltz of the flowers were unisex.

Mark Morris’s The Hard Nut
© Peter DaSilva


Both the choreographic and dramatic highlight came, perhaps surprisingly, in the Sugar Plum Fairy solo. Having shut my eyes and enjoyed the music in a couple of places, I suddenly sat to attention as the score finally complemented the action and Maria realised her growing feelings for Drosselmeyer. It was touchingly coy and then full blooded and could even work in isolation as a set piece, the light and shade of the movement shedding new light on a familiar piece as the best of re-workings should.

On the whole, this Nutcracker is fun in places but it has dramaturgical problems and cannot always live up to the score choreographically. If you feel obliged to see a Nutcracker and can’t face tutus this will probably fit the bill although it does rely on familiarity (over-familiarity?) with the “original”.

Sergeyev would probably have been very puzzled by this development of the outcome of his efforts but he may have agreed that, like all great works, Nutcracker is robust enough to withstand a little teasing and we may just go back to tutus and tiaras refreshed.

Running at Sadler’s Wells until Saturday November 27th.

Post Scriptum: A few hours after I wrote this review, I was walking through Ryde High Street on the Isle of Wight and there in a shop window for no fathomable reason was a three foot high Nutcracker doll. As far as I know there is no production on the Island this year so the shop had stuck an improvised label on the shiny paint.

I rest my case!