Houston Ballet’s lavish presentation of ‘The Nutcracker’ commands attention
Stanton Welch’s version of “The Nutcracker” is Houston Ballet’s answer to video games, digital movie effects and immersive entertainment rooms.
To awe this century’s audiences, the production serves up nonstop visual stimulation in the form of fanciful characters (an eye-popping parade of rats, penguins, foxes, sheep, dogs, cats, bees, butterflies, a lion, a bear, a giant panda, a dragon and a frog, oh my, plus angels, royals, real people, toy soldiers, dolls and ballerinas), opulent costumes, majestic sets, dazzling projections, twinkling lights and a few surprise touches that make viewers feel like they’re embedded in the action. If there’s a more lavish annual theatrical production in town, I’m not aware of it.
The choreography, the dancing and the orchestra’s handling of Peter Tchaikovsky’s beloved score need to be just as high octane to hold their own. Last week’s opening-night performance succeeded on all those counts.
Funny thing, though: The best moments were quiet and subtle. (So, yes, Virginia, nuance still matters.)
Principal ballerina Yuriko Kajiya stopped my heart by playing against the hubbub. While she also commanded three partners with her slinky strength, the dark mystery of her Arabian dance turned stunning when she balanced en pointe with her other leg in a low attitude derriere (turned out and bent to the back) for what seemed like minutes. She could have flaunted it with a high arabesque. Instead, Kajiya summoned an uncanny thrill by doing something that looked almost like nothing.
Then, what a pleasure to see rising star soloist Aoi Fujiwara in her debut as the Sugar Plum Fairy, calmly and delicately balancing the whole ballerina bag of sweets — pristine technique, quicksilver speed, beguiling lightness and bright athleticism. She and Nutcracker Prince Connor Walsh fed off each others’ energy, sailing effortlessly through their lifts and that big flourish of a fish dive. Walsh, a model of gracious romance, pulled out the wowza stops for his solo of airborne tricks in the grand pas.
The dozens of littles who populate “The Nutcracker” lend sweetness to every scene, but OMG — bells went off in my brain when Gavin Paul stepped forward during the Act 1 party scene, presented a courtly hand to Clara (a vivacious Mónica Gómez) and smoothly led her in the waltz. Opportunities for up-and-coming dancers are built into “The Nutcracker,” but rarely are those dancers 10 year olds. This one already shines like the North Star with his charm and poise.
The whole cast — 223 characters — ate up Welch’s good-humored choreography, and the show rollicked swiftly along. Conductor Ermanno Florio set the lively pace, and the Houston Ballet Orchestra and accompanying Women’s Chorus added aural sparkle to the atmosphere. (The show runs two hours, including a 25-minute intermission.)
The Stahlbaum family’s house is a stately Georgian mansion but it’s also a fun-loving, high-decibel place with a bouncy sheepdog, sneaky toys and — during the opening-night’s performance — some rambunctious sibling bickering. Clara’s energy drives Act 1. While some dancers portray her as sweetly innocent, Gómez’s Clara is more of a pill who takes no bunk from her rowdy brother or the dastardly Rat King. An animated Eric Best performed both of those antagonistic roles with explosive, boyish chest-thumping.
A sense of joyful abandon colors this “Nutcracker,” feeling at times like it could careen out of control without Welch’s symmetrical choreography, which might drive me crazy in any other show. Act 1’s battle scene plays out with advancing lines as stiff soldiers en pointe confront a battalion of dastardly Samurai rats.
More traditional versions of “The Nutcracker” follow the battle with a tranquil Snow Pas de Deux. This one utilizes the blissful music for a mimed scene featuring a Snow Queen who is too encumbered by her spiky, icy crown and massive cape to move much. Four Flurries in sparkly white tutus eventually appear to lead the must-have Snow corps of ballerinas, who are joined by unitard-clad men in bizarre masks as the falling snow intensifies.
A blizzard of petals seems to have preceded the Waltz of the Flowers, leaving colorful bits clinging to the women’s long white, and very full, tutus. Always one of the most gloriously happy dances of “The Nutcracker,” this scene offers a full garden of flowers and mushrooms into the show’s frothiest confection, as those tutus (and the bodies in them) swirl and fly above the heads of the dancers’ partners.
The soloists of Act 2’s smaller variations impressed with their athletic prowess. The audience erupted when Russian Man Simone Acri did his high, split jumps. Chinese Woman Bridget Allinson-Kuhns kept her hops en pointe perky and sunny. Danbi Kim, the Bo Peep-inspired Danish Woman, offered up a cheerful battery of balances, leaps and spins. Jack Wolff was nimbly sharp as the proper English Man, and Syvert Lorenz Garcia got laughs with his loose-limbed pratfalls as the fussy French Man.
Other versions of “The Nutcracker” may tug deeper at the heartstrings, but I’m happy to come back to this one, which debuted in 2016, because each viewing still tosses out surprises (along with handfuls of “snow” and sparkly magic confetti “dust”). There’s much to admire in the layers of Tim Goodchild’s designs and the contrasts of scale that involve people and props.
I also appreciate how elements of Welch’s party scene hint at Kingdom of the Sweets goodies to come: The girls’ party gifts are replicas of Act 2’s animal ambassadors, for example, and Clara’s puppet theater is a miniature version of the Sugar Plum Fairy’s heavenly realm.
For those who watch closely, this “Nutcracker” holds numerous foreshadowing details, spinning Clara’s fantasy clearly from her imagination. Best of all? It’s real, live theater, with kinetic thrills no video game or movie can match.