I have to say, I never tire of it. I must have seen this Mark Morris production at least a dozen times over the course of the past three decades, and each time I see something new in it. I was about three or four seasons in, for instance, when I first noticed the crying woman during the carol-singing session at the Christmas party. A decade or two later, I wondered for the first time about Drosselmeier\u2019s vigorous bouncing of Marie on his lap: were we meant to sense an element of child sexual abuse? These elements were both there from the beginning, but because the party scene in which they occur is so complicated and various\u2014and because, in addition, we see what our current news makes us more likely to see\u2014my take on them varied over time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This time, at the BAM performance<\/a> on December 14, I was struck in particular by how closely Morris\u2019s staging followed E.T.A. Hoffmann\u2019s original storyline. Having just finished reading Hoffmann\u2019s \u201cNutcracker and Mouse King\u201d tale (and also his \u201cSandman,\u201d the inspiration for both Tales of Hoffmann<\/em> and Coppelia<\/em>), I was able to pick out the specific details that Mark Morris had preserved: not only the name Marie for the little heroine of the story (rather than the more common Clara), but also the connection between Drosselmeier and the Nutcracker (they are uncle and nephew), the performance of mechanical dolls at the Christmas party (though they are miniatures, not life-sized, in the Hoffmann story), the night-nursery battle between mice and soldiers, the whole tale of Princess Pirlipat and the Hard Nut, and even the inclusion of the dentist who takes care of the failed suitors. All of this was there on Hoffmann\u2019s page, and all had been faithfully incorporated into Morris\u2019s Hard Nut<\/em>. Only the pointe-shoe-clad maid\u2014a brilliant invention, originated by Kraig Patterson and now danced to perfection by Brandon Randolph\u2014is entirely new to the plot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If you have watched a particularly vivid dance piece over the course of thirty years, one of the things that happens is a kind of superimposition of roles. Behind Elisa Clark\u2019s graceful rendering of Mrs. Stahlbaum, I saw not only the initial outrageous travesty by Peter Wing Healy, but also the subtle, womanly performance by John Heginbotham\u2014all three excellent in their own ways, but with an added Shakespearean twist lent by putting a female dancer in the role designed as a man performing a woman. I miss Morris\u2019s own presence in The Hard Nut<\/em> (first as a drunken party guest and the lead Arabian, later as Dr. Stahlbaum), but was thrilled to see his Stahlbaum role taken now by Joe Bowie, an old and much-missed member of the dance group. Rob Besserer, the original Drosselmeier, still inhabits my memory, but Billy Smith has done a wonderful job in recent years of masterfully taking over the role. And his touching duet with his Nutcracker nephew (formerly David Leventhal, then Aaron Loux, now Domingo Estrada) remains one of the most moving and thrilling and echt-Morris parts of the dance for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On my visit to BAM last week\u2014my first time seeing The Hard Nut<\/em> again since before the pandemic\u2014I brought along a friend who had never seen the dance before. She was in ecstasies, like a small child. Another astute enthusiast, as I soon discovered, was the stranger sitting next to me. Just before the piece commenced, he politely informed me that he had a very small bladder and might have to dash out to the bathroom during the performance. “But I promise not to come back in again until the end of the act, so I won’t mess up your view twice.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOkay,\u201d I said, \u201cas long as you don\u2019t leave during the Snowflake Dance.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe Snowflake Dance!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cHow amazing that you should say that. That\u2019s why I\u2019m here for a second time, to see the Snowflake Dance.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n And a very good reason it is, for I too always await, at the end of the first act, this marvelous, inventive, funny, sad, thrilling ensemble performance, which concludes with the lovely image of Drosselmeier making his solitary way upstage through the snow, as the spinning snowflakes mark his progress by slowing to a gradual halt around him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I have to say, I never tire of it. I must have seen this Mark Morris production at least a dozen times over the course of the past three decades, and each time I see something new in it. I … Continue reading