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![]() Ian Palmer with some seasonal thoughts about the biggest Christmas ballet of them all and which ones to see in the UK... |
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It is a peculiar fact that the world’s most popular ballet, performed by more companies across the globe than any other, should have begun in difficult circumstances, yet The Nutcracker, that whirligig of Christmas-tide extravaganza, loved by children of all ages, arose out of artistic torment. In 1890 Ivan Alexandrovich Vsevolozhsky, visionary Director of the Imperial Theatres, sought to emulate the huge success of The Sleeping Beauty from the previous year and commissioned from its collaborators – the Octogenarian master choreographer Marius Petipa and the composer Tchaikovsky – a two-act ballet based on a tale by Hoffmann. Yet in the two years it took for the ballet to reach the stage, its composer would lose his sister and fall into deepest depression and Petipa would suffer crippling bouts of illness that would eventually see his work taken over by his assistant Lev Ivanov. Then, following its premiere in December 1892, the critical reception was hostile: ‘nonsense unworthy of attention’, wrote one critic; ‘ballet is sliding downhill, having lost its footing, and is moving away towards some kind of fragile, sugary Nutcracker’, wrote another. That the ballet, with its simple tale of a Christmas Eve party and a young girl’s journey to Confiturenburg (the Land of the Sweets) should, over the subsequent years, rise above its sugary sickliness is testament in no small part to the genius of Tchaikovsky’s score. Required by Petipa to produce ‘colossal effects’, he channelled into his composition all the emotional angst and heart-felt lustre that he was also writing into his sixth (and final) symphony, The Pathetique, though its beauty, as the conductor Constant Lambert remarked, lies also in its simplicity: some of the most potent moments – the transformation of the Christmas tree and the duet between Clara and the Nutcracker Prince in Act 1; the Adagio of the Grand Pas de Deux in Act 2 – consist solely of ascending and descending scales. Tchaikovsky also chose to bring out the ‘Hoffmann-esque’ elements of the tale, underscoring the instrumentation with ethereal, sometimes sinister, colour, the most famous of whose examples is the use of the celesta, an instrument he discovered in Paris at the studios of Auguste Mustel and used in the Sugar Plum Fairy’s variation to invoke ‘drops of water, as if shooting out of fountains’. Yet this is not to detract from the invention of Lev Ivanov who finalised the ballet from the sketches and plans of Petipa and whose work still survives (though in incomplete format) as part of the Sergeyev Collection now held at Harvard University. It was these manuscripts, initially brought to England by Petipa’s regisseur, Nikolai Sergeyev, following the October Revolution of 1917, which formed the basis of the first staging of the ballet outside St. Petersburg. In January 1934, Alicia Markova led the recently formed Vic-Wells in a performance of The Nutcracker in London and thereafter followed a nation’s fascination with the work.
It is that company’s descendant, the Royal Ballet, which now dances the closest approximation of Ivanov, in a 1984 production by Sir Peter Wright supervised by Professor Roland John Wiley, whose academic research has been devoted to the interpretation of the Sergeyev papers. In its beautiful ‘Waltz of the Snowflakes’, which closes the first act, Wright used the exact floor patterns devised by Ivanov, and present day audiences perhaps see in its eddying, freezing formations of snowflakes drifting across the stage, a little of what Imperial audiences saw at the ballet’s premiere. The production has, however, been tinkered with over the years and not always for the best. It is also hampered by Julia Trevelyan Oman’s fussy designs within which Drosselmeyer is now played (in the words of Clement Crisp) as ‘your uncle who has decided to come out as a drag queen’ and Clara is allowed to meddle in the Act 2 Divertissements.
Coming up a close second, to my mind, is that created this year by David Nixon for Northern Ballet Theatre. It is a radical departure for Nixon’s company, whose usual style is contemporary ballet theatre, rather than classical dance; but when I saw the premiere, in October, they were beginning to show a real understanding of the Classical style. Nixon, together with his designer Charles Cusick Smith, has transported the first act from Biedermeyer Germany to Regency England and Drosselmeyer becomes a kind of Gentleman adventurer. This makes perfect sense in relation to Act 2 in which Confiturenburg is a Chinese Pavilion that reflects not only the ‘exotique’ of Drosselmeyer’s travels but also the taste for exploration that was gripping England at that time.
![]() © Brian Slater
![]() © John Ross
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