Tina LeBlanc and Joan Boada in Helgi Tomasson's Nutcracker. Photo by Erik Tomasson.
Heaven knows, we all need a little Nutcracker right now. We all need an entertainment that promotes dreaming as a way of changing the world. We need a shared fantasy or two and some belief in the power of transformation. Several worthy versions of the seasonal treat, not all of them based on Lev Ivanov’s 1892 St. Petersburg original, opened their annual runs Thursday (Dec. 11) in the Bay Area, but the San Francisco Ballet, which produced the first complete American version in 1944, has heritage in its favor, not to mention a considerable edge in classical pedigree. You may find yourself preferring the narrative treatment of this holiday ritual in other versions, but, all things considered, nobody dances Nutcracker like the San Francisco Ballet’s assemblage of champions.
As it happens, artistic director Helgi Tomasson’s 2004 resetting of Nutcracker from early 19th century Germany to San Francisco, ca. 1915, at the time of the Panama Pacific Exhibition remains an intelligent conceit, if you don’t mind losing all the sugary, high carb adornments of the standard versions. There’s an atmosphere here of miracle making, of wonder at the phenomena we take for granted a century later. The look on the face of Dr. Stahlbaum (Val Caniparoli, Thursday), as he jams plug into socket and the Christmas tree blazes through the magic of electricity, is a key and delicious moment; anything can happen in this new world of marvels.
Young Clara (winsome Jessica Cohen) can dream that a toy nutcracker can metamorphose into a handsome swain, that she can save his life and that he can escort her through a hall of kinetic wonders. Perhaps, most tellingly, she can, through the sheer power of imagination, dream herself into the guise of an exquisite ballerina (and none more exquisite than Tina LeBlanc on Thursday). Is this not the secret desire of every neophyte dancer? That this Clara’s fantasy is to emerge a major artist suggests that Nutcracker, as much as any work, is a ballet dancer’s pledge to the world.
Gennadi Nedvigin in Helgi Tomasson's Nutcracker. Photo by Erik Tomasson.
The major portion of the first act, set in a Pacific Heights mansion, abounds in credible relationships with which many of the audience can identify. Clara’s kid brother, Fritz, is not an intolerable brat, but a well-brought up boy who, inadvertently, breaks Uncle Drosselmeyer’s gift. And I love the affronted look on the chambermaid’s face as Drosselmeyer (Ricardo Bustamante) whispers something, possibly lewd, in her ear. Tomasson’s battle with the mice and the toy soldiers emerging from a giant credenza is a kick and the iris-effect transition to snow country is simply magical.
Designer Michael Yeargan’s second act crystal pavilion provides an alluring staging area for the parade of national divertissements, all garbed in Martin Pakledinaz’s most opulent costumes. A few scenic and lighting adjustments in the past four years are all to the good.
I love the simple, telling steps made for the children of the SFB School, especially the assemblage of ladybugs, butterflies and dragonflies at the beginning of Act 2. Tomasson’s mime and action episodes all represent some of his finest work for the company and he gets my vote for using the Tchaikovsky music, complete, unadulterated and with all of it in the sequence intended by the composer. This is one of the ballet world’s most gloriously perfect scores and it needs no help from mortals.
Frances Chung in Helgi Tomasson's Nutcracker. Photo by Erik Tomasson.
But it does need inspired choreography. Tomasson lets Tchaikovsky down only once, in the Waltz of the Flowers (for Sugar Plum Fairy and 16 corps women). The patterning here seems far too academic (notably, in a grid formation) for such efflorescent music, and the relationship, the tension between ballerina and women, remains sketchily defined. The sequence misses the ecstatic surge one recalls from the Lew Christensen staging that it replaced, the surge that is there, eternally, in the music. I can only hope that, one of these years, Tomasson will revise his choreography.
Thursday’s performance (the first of 31 through Dec. 28 at the War Memorial Opera House) was hardly a carbon copy of previous years’ revivals. The divertissements have rarely been dispatched so winningly. Music director Martin West took a slower tempo than usual for Spanish (the trumpets were all over the place, however), and this time, with Frances Chung, Doris Andre, Diego Cruz, Garen Scribner and Hansuke Yamamoto dancing, you could actually see the choreography. Nutnaree Pipit-Suksun’s undulant Arabian charmer is the most seductive ever in this production. Nicolas Blanc was off top form in Chinese, but Gennadi Nedvigin scoffed at gravity in Anatole Vilzak’s Fabergé egg version of the Trepak. Matthew Stewart is making a career as a bear impersonator (remember Paul Taylor’s Changes last season?) and his ursine ham, surrounded by a bevy of miniature harlequins, was pure, galumphing delight. Dressed like Barbary Coast filles de joie, Courtney Clarkson, Mariellen Olson and Jennifer Stahl handsomely animated the French sequence. Nothing to fault in the party scene dancing dolls, Scribner, James Sofranko and Clara Blanco. David Arce blustered drolly as the mouse king and his exit is inspired.
Familiar dancers filled the major assignments. One felt enormous comfort with Yuan Yuan Tan and Tiit Helimets imparting majesty to the Snow Queen and King. She is all challenging, brilliant extensions and formidable balances, he is a partner in a hundred. Vanessa Zahorian lent charm to the Sugar Plum Fairy, but I wish she would hold her balances and relish the phrasing just a moment longer; she seems a bit intimidated by the music’s luxuriance.
Yuan Yuan Tan and Tiit Helimets in Helgi Tomasson's Nutcracker. Photo by Erik Tomasson.
It is that latter quality, that luxuriance in the score that made LeBlanc’s contribution to the Grand Pas de Deux so treasurable. Thursday, she reprised her performance in this production’s 2004 premiere, and if the rumors are true, she will retire at the end of the 2009 repertory season, ending a radiant, 17-year career at SFB. Here, partnered lovingly by Joan Boada, LeBlanc offered nothing less than a balletomane’s vision of heaven. She furnished an object lesson in phrasing and articulation, in line and movement logic, flying across the stage, leaping onto Boada’s shoulder, diving into his arms and finding the drama in the steps. What budding dancer would not aspire to artistry like this?
Fortunately, LeBlanc will dance the role again sometime later in this run; casting updates can be found on the SFB website. There will be other accomplished ballerinas in this assignment this month, but none, I’ll bet, will quite bridge the generations with such infinite radiance and insight.
Now for the complaint: I cannot say whether the SFB or the War Memorial crew is responsible for admitting latecomers throughout the first act on Thursday, but it has to stop, pronto. Why should the dancers or those folks in the audience who got there on time be penalized by such inconsiderate behavior? The San Francisco Opera and San Francisco Symphony do not tolerate this practice, and SFB should ban it, too.
The San Francisco Ballet performs Nutcracker at the War Memorial Opera House through Dec. 28 at 7 p.m. (No performances Christmas day). Call 415.865.2000 or visit www.sfballet.org
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