The weather was rainy, but I made it to the Opera House without any sprinkles, met Carolyn Carvajal, said hello to Teri McCollum, thinner, dressed in black, happy to be back in one of her favorite haunts. You You Xia, in charge of the press, looked stunning in a short, draped scarlet chiffon gown designed by a friend and Kate McKinney sported a crisp white shirt and a fist full of press envelopes. Cookies, brie, small baguette slices, thinly sliced charcuterie, coffee and wine were ample.
Several full gowned young women sporting ribbons with the name Clara were to be seen in the press room, one in the middle of row N where Carolyn and I occupied the right aisle seats. This mystery was solved when Kelly Tweeddale, blonde haired and garbed in deep orange, emerged from the right side of the stage, asking that the former Claras in the audience rise to be acknowledged. Warm applause. Tweeddale, SFB’s executive director since September, also asked any former member of the company to rise. Further applause. Tweeddale reminded the audience that Willam Christensen was the precedent setter for the December American phenomenon of Nutcrackers, and most companies, professional, civic and studio, with income. There also was a line of special thanks to Arthur Ballet for dramaturgical consulting.
Michael Yeargan’s scenic designs included slides of San Francisco in 1915 and nostalgic reminders of the Panama-Pacific Exposition; the Drosselmeyer shop was zeroed in upon to find Tiit Helimets as that magician in what may have been his debut in the role, a creature of pleasure in his holiday creation, a shop-keeper given to flourish, a man with magic capacities. The introduction was auspicious, followed by the street scene with the holly seller, policeman, goose deliverer, two boys with a as yet unadorned tree, nurse with the baby, two nuns, two women who had purchased the clock, guests, one balancing an overload of packages, Drosselmeyer buying holly, giving it to the nurse before climbing the stairs to the Stahlbaum’s suitably Victorian residence.
Up goes the facade; the Stahlbaum residence is presided over by Ricardo Bustamonte and Madison Keesler with Jim Sohm and Kristi De Caminada as grandparents. There was the tree to be illuminated by the new electricity; near the entrance the Golden Horn of RCA seemed newly added. The results of dramaturgy were evident.
Grandfather Sohm was agog over the lights, visibly reacting to the borrowing of his cane, gallant with Grandmother in the guest ensemble dancing. The costume designs of the late Martin Pakledinaz continue to be striking, although Carolyn Carvajal pointed out SFB’s costumes now seem to eschew sleeves on tutus.
When it came to the dancing dolls, Hansuke Yamamoto as the yellow-Milliskin clown was limber and precise in his extensions and off balances, one of the very best seen in this production. Lauren Parrott as the pink ruffled doll with sparkled-laden hair, danced accurately, confidently, but Clara Blanco’s China Doll remoteness still lingers. Max Cauthorn as the Nutcracker dispatched his variation crisply, his size portending Luke Ingham.
When Clara fell asleep, Helimet’s Drosselmeyer expanded the room and raised the tree with flair and conviction. Ingham’s Nutcracker was brisk in his command of the toy army emerging from the breakfront, and those mice were almost as devilish as their monarch, Nathaniel Remez, King of the Mice. His arrogance, mustache twirling and gestures made major his fight with the Nutcracker, his dying crawl into the orchestra pit notably protesting.
Clara’s [Abby Cannon] concern over the recumbent Nutcracker was alleviated by
Drosselmeyer’s removal of the mask; Ingham’s eyes lit up, looking out, tearing open the confining jacket. His subsequent circular jetes emphasized that freedom. Following lifts and runs, Drosselmeyer presented the pair with prancing horses and a ski carriage.
As the Monarchs of the Snow, Yuan Yuan Tan and Carlo Di Lanno were elegant, accurate, able to impress through the torrent of the snow, if almost obscured at the final pose. I attribute Tomasson’s Icelandic heritage for the stage blizzard, but also wonder why these two dancers lack a curtain call or presence in the final applause.
For Act II, beneath the stylized replica of San Francisco’s horticultural gem, student butterflies, lady bugs and dragonflies, circle, flutter and scamper, awaiting the arrival of Sasha de Sola as the Sugar Plum Fairy, expansive in gesture. She is a gentle, definite presence as she queried the Nutcracker Prince; Ingham provided a clear, detailed response winning Clara’s enrollment in the Fairy’s affections. Two attendants proceed to move Clara and Drosselmeyer on the ski carriage according to the six variations culminating in the Waltz of the Flowers.
The Fairy exits stage right along with the Prince as the variations commence; black fans from the flies for the Spanish quintet, three men, two women, being the first and one of the nicest touches. Jahna Frantrziskouris and Ellen Rose Hummel swished their ruffled skirts while Alexandre Cagnat, Max Cauthorn and Mingxuang Wang looked down their noses, cocked their heads and flourished their capes.
A non-enveloping oblong screen is dropped before two turbaned, bearded attendants arrive from stage left, carrying an Arabian Nights container on poles. After attentive rubbings on the stage front side, the lid is raised, revealing first a blue pleated lining and a houri with suitably transparent pantaloons cinched at the knees, wearing an elaborate bra and her own turban. The attendants supported Kimberly Marie Olivier’s turns, held her as she turned, lifted her aloft; escorting her back into the blue-lined pot, they lifted the poles supporting the closed pot and exited stage right.
From languor to sparking notes came Lonnie Weeks with his remarkable elevation and the small scarlet-clad horde of SFB’s school students chasing him in a circular pattern, eventually off stage right. Weeks returned briefly to acknowledge vigorous applause.
Next were the flute sounds for three dancers with ribbons attached to switches, helping to accent rond de jambes executed en pointe. One in particular on the right caught my eye, dancing with a winning aura of private pleasure. If her head of hair identified her accurately, it was Bianca Teixeira.
The three would-be Faberge eggs, rolled on, were decimated as Esteban Hernandez, Davide Occhipinti and Myles Thatcher burst forth to dance Anatole Vilzak’s Russian divertissement. Bravo to SFB for retaining Vilzak’s vigorous melange of Russian male folk steps; no one can question its authenticity.
Louis Schilling assumed Madame du Cirque’s tent-like costume, sidling in from upstage right following the bubbling group of juvenile harlequins. After due coaxing, the gingerbread bear emerged, essayed with slow motion bent knees and adroit emphasis by Diego Cruz.
The Waltz of the Flowers and the Sugar Plum Fairy’s variation followed, before attendants moved an adult-sized replica of Clara’s holiday gift on stage. The Sugar Plum Fairy lifted a small coronet from an attendant’s cushion, gently placing it on Clara’s head, the Nutcracker Prince observing along with Drosselmeyer. Clara moved into the six-sided construction to admire it, the doors closed, the construction was turned; when the door opened, out stepped Mathilde Froustey in glittery gold and mild green tutu to dance the grand pas de deux with Luke Ingham.
A tricky pas de deux with running leaps to the Prince’s shoulder from left and then right, one of Froustey’s steps crumpled down stage left before the successful leaps; towards the end another wobble preparatory to a supported pirouette along with traveling fouettes in the coda. Otherwise, Froustey looked the delicious French dancer she definitely is, while Ingham did well by the required choreography. The audience applauded warmly.
The final sequence of variation snippets brought continued applause as Drosselmeyer sneaked in from upper stage left with Clara’s chaise lounge, the dancers retreated, Drosselmeyer commanded the Stahlbaum living room assume its normal size. Clara woke up, clutched her doll fondly and ran towards the stairs to her mother as Christmas day dawned and the curtain fell.
Enthusiastic acknowledgment of the dancers, Helgi Tomasson came on stage following conductor Martin West.. All of a sudden, red and white balloons began to fall from the ceiling, hundred of them, on to the aisles, the seats, the audience and the popping commenced. Quite a start to celebrate the 75th season.
Tomasson is noted not only for his taste, but for surprises. We have been lucky to have his artistic direction for more then three decades, besting Marius Petipa’s 32-year record as ballet master and chief choreographer at the Maryinsky.