Review: The Nutcracker Suite (American Contemporary Ballet)
I was born with the Nutcracker built-in. I don’t think I’ve ever fully seen an adaptation of the ballet, not completely, and yet I know the Nutcracker. When I picture the story it comes to me in patchwork, in mismatch snippets from various films and tv specials, some animated, some modern, some very old, with only the immortal sound of Tchaikovsky to thread them all together.
There are many versions of the Nutcracker to be seen in Southern California come wintertime. I’ve never been to the ballet, so I’m not sure what I was looking for when I shopped for tickets online. Productions tried to differentiate themselves by advertising their accompanying live orchestras (positive), the presence of a real horse on stage (negative), and their use of practical special effects (neutral).
Nothing felt truly distinct until I came across American Contemporary Ballet’s “The Nutcracker Suite.” These were professional dancers who promised artistry and immersion.
We got tickets to the 5 o’clock show. My sister and I were ushered into a corporate office on the twenty-somethingth floor of a high rise in Downtown L.A., into what could have been a set for HBO’s Succession. Us and a few dozen others huddled gleefully under the fluorescent lights as a bored-looking woman in a suit played elevator-jazz music from a speaker. She was popping bubble wrap and had her feet propped up at reception. The immersion had already begun, and it almost felt like a game. After a while the woman stood up on the desk to tell us we were in the wrong place. We spilled out into the hall with the rest, delightfully confused.
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At the end of the hall was a doorway, glowing purple, with sounds of a live orchestra luring from within. Wonderland at last.
The venue felt like some secret realm — a girl roller-skates on fake ice, the lights of Los Angeles glimmer quietly through the fake-frosted glass window panes like embers nestled in ashes. Fake snow underfoot, an exposed, industrial ceiling overhead. Dancers are dressed as automatons and playing their parts convincingly, to the children’s delight. We are served champagne in delicate, plastic flutes and popcorn in pink, paper boxes and wrapped chocolates. Everything is fanciful and intimate and lovely. Even the program comes to us in the form of a pastel pink dessert menu.
The show begins, and maybe it’s the three glasses of complimentary champagne at work, but I am nearly brought to tears.
The euphoric pattering of the dancers’ feet as they flood the stage before us overcomes me totally. With the dancers right there, only a few meters in front of me, their tulle skirts twirling, glimmering, taunting, I could truly behold and comprehend the olympian feat of what ballet is. The American Contemporary Ballet painted pictures with their bodies, their performance had all the qualities of a musical symphony while demonstrating remarkable athleticism and rigor. I couldn’t have been more impressed with the caliber of dancing, though most sublime was the first duet, entitled “Coffee,” in which ballerina Hannah Barr twisted silently in mid-air while maintaining perfect chemistry with her partner. At various intervals dancers embodying life-size dolls served us sweets: I opted for coffee flavored ice cream and strawberry candy canes.
I know the Nutcracker, and have since I was a child, but during the performance I found I was nonetheless mesmerized and enamored. This resembled nothing that I’d seen before. The show felt at once whimsical, evoking a childlike wonder and glee, and mature, boasting some serious, professional dancing.
The ballet was not overlong; we were out before 6:30, pulling on our coats and feeling as though we’d awakened from a dream. Whatever narrative coherency was lost in this shortened, stripped-down adaptation of the Nutcracker did not matter in the end, as the emotional story and the magic remained.
Let me reiterate, there are many versions of the Nutcracker to be seen in Southern California come wintertime. Let me clarify: See this one.
