Tchaikovsky : The Nutcracker
Scottish Ballet
Scottish Ballet Orchestra
Timothy Henty
When you're familiar with a near-perfect version of The Nutcracker (viz. Birmingham Royal Ballet's one, seen just over a year ago, here), any fresh take on this familiar classic has a lot to live up to. In one sense, Ashley Page's version for Scottish Ballet isn't as out there as Matthew Bourne's (also seen earlier this year, here) because the basic characters are still there - Marie (Clara, in traditional versions), Drosselmeyer, the Nutcracker Prince, et al - but it's sufficiently re-worked that I'd seriously think twice about using this version as an introduction to ballet for children. Ostensibly, Page chose to refer far more closely to the original Hoffmann story, rather than the simpler, sweeter Dumas adaptation for which Tchaikovsky had opted. Hoffmann is, inevitably, a much darker source, but nowhere near as well known as the standard Tchaikovsky one, so there were many references that were unlikely to be grasped by any of the audience. The whole of the Nutcracker's back-story, for example, was presented very awkwardly, in two parts without obvious connection.
Updated to Weimar Republic Germany, with a Drosselmeyer (Tama Barry) who sort of looks like Rotwang from Fritz Lang's Metropolis and a Governess/Dame Mouserink villainess (Diana Loosmore, vamping it up splendidly) clearly based on Louise Brooks (not to mention some very smart 20s dresses for the Act 1 Christmas party), we were also back in Monty Python territory. Not the Ministry of Silly Walks cavorting David Alden resorted to for last weekend's Ballo, but Terry Gilliam's surreal cartoons, which made some very pointed appearances particularly in the first act. The hand with the suspended stop-watch? Pure Gilliam. And surreal was pretty much the best description for the events depicted here, a trip through Marie's dreams and nightmares, her uncertainties and aspirations.
Even the second act, which was closer to a more traditional version, had nothing to do with a child's world of sweeties, but was a sort of travelogue through foreign lands, illustrated by the characteristic dances. It has its points, but I felt that a lot of the choreography lacked force, or was over-complicated, and much of it lacked that sense of magic that is so prevalent in the orchestral score. There was quite a bit of aimless running around in the first act, although the battle was quite good, and the two 'bad' snowflakes in the Waltz were uselessly distracting. In the second act, the Russian Dance seemed rather lacklustre, the Waltz of the Flowers a little uneven (although maybe it was simply Luciana Ravizzi's Dog Rose that was a little too laid-back), the Arabian Dance visibly inspired by Peter Wright's choreography, with an odalisque's pliant body being passed between three male attendants.
All that said, this was a good performance. There were two things that impressed me especially. First was the entente between Sophie Martin (Marie) and Adam Blyde (the Nutcracker Prince). I don't quite understand why the Nutcracker Doll and the Nutcracker Prince are two separate dancers in this version, but when Blyde came on, Martin's dancing suddenly gained a fluidity and power that had not been present before. Not that there was any deficiency earlier, but an additional quality to the movement that suggested a particularly strong and comfortable dance partnership between these two. It worked both for Page's own choreography, and for the Grand Pas of Act 2, which was presented in the original Petipa version, delivered here with a languid, measured grace - not very Russian, but that wasn't really the context, so it still worked (though I'd have liked to have seen slightly deeper swan dives).
The other really striking thing - and I was very pleased to see this, because it's a sign of a healthy, well-drilled company - was the precision of the 'formation' dancing. As I've mentioned before, Scottish Ballet is a small company, without a real corps de ballet. The biggest group of dancers on stage together in a more-or-less traditional classical set piece was the ten snowflakes for the waltz at the end of Act 1, and they were not only synchronous in time, they were aligned, arms and legs displaced to the same degree with remarkable accuracy. It sounds like something that should be automatic, but in fact I've rarely seen the effect achieved to the extent that you get the impression that the dancers are not merely moving, but breathing together. When the numbers are small, the exposure is even greater; not only were the snowflakes excellent, so were the four 'chambermaids' of the Danse des Mirlitons and the four Poppies of the Waltz of the Flowers.
It's an interesting take on an old favourite and it was well-performed, but it doesn't quite gel with the music. Petipa chose Dumas's version consciously, and gave Tchaikovsky explicit instructions as to how to treat the story. Tchaikovsky may have resented the tight guidelines, but nevertheless followed them to the letter, and there is a certain mood that needs to be respected, which, I have to say, I think Bourne managed better than Page, even though Bourne's version looks more alien. The production, however, is a handsome one, and it was enjoyable to see the company in such good form.
[Next: 13th December]
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