THE
NUTCRACKER
Birmingham
Royal Ballet at Birmingham Hippodrome *****
First aired as a gift to Birmingham nearly a third of a century
ago, Sir Peter Wright’s production for the then fledgling Birmingham Royal
Ballet of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker has become a Christmas classic, and this
year has grown new wings after a lockdown-enforced rethink.
John McFarlane’s always brilliant set designs have had a
spectacular revamp, costumes have had a wash and brush-up, and the whole show
has a freshness which almost makes it a premiere again, 32 years on.
Much of this is due to the increased emphasis on the
magician Drosselmeyer, creator of the Nutcracker doll, instigator of all the
mayhem which ensues when the doll confronts the rats lurking behind the chimney,
and now, in this reworking, a major presence in Act Two, acting as master of
ceremonies as Clara enjoys performances from a stamp-album of worldwide
delights.
Rory Mackay, sweepingly becloaked, was Drosselmeyer,
imperious and magisterial, with Reina Fuchigami the charming, enchanted Clara.
Equally enchanting was Samara Downs as Clara’s one-time ballerina mother, gracious
and warm-hearted, and Lynsey Sutherland and Michael O’Hare almost stole the
show as Clara’s grandparents to Tchaikovsky’s pinch of Schumann’s music.
All the children party-guests performed with commitment and
aplomb (there were some very little dots among the company), and the farewells
moved smoothly (oh, that all guests took their leave so promptly).
The divertissements in the Land of Snow (it used to be
called the Kingdom of Sweets) flowed narratively under Drosselmeyer’s
direction. Particularly engaging was the almost still-life Danse Arabe from
Yaoqian Shang and Gabriel Anderson, and the Grand pas de deux from Celine
Gittens and Brandon Lawrence more than surpassed expectations.
The legendary BRB Sinfonia sounded somewhat thin and
depleted in this particular number, but played with alert colour throughout the
evening, conductor Martin Georgiev selecting perfect dancer-friendly tempi. We
did, however, miss the vocalisations of Ex Cathedra as we moved into the Land
of Snow.
Much has been spouted about the racial caricaturing of the
divertissements, but happily here there was no obtrusive wokification. The
Chinese Dance was an exuberant delight, and still obviously Chinese.
Less delightful was the audience response as Act II progressed.
I am all for enthusiastic appreciation, but since when did all the courtesies
of classical ballet descend to the Blackpool whoops of Strictly Come Dancing?
Christopher Morley