My mom and I took Stella to the Nutcracker on Sunday. New York City Ballet, at Lincoln Center. The real deal. It was such a delight because Stella was thrilled
about the whole thing, from getting dressed up in her fancy dress and
new shoes, to sitting in the gold jewel-box of the New York State
Theater waiting for it to begin, to the gummy bears at intermission, to the ending when Clara and the prince depart in a flying reindeer-pulled sleigh.
It really is a ballet designed for children; it's flamboyant and kitschy and colorful and, for cryin' out loud, candy features a prominent role. The whole second act is less part of a narrative and more a variety revue, with the music, choreography, and costumes all changing with each new section like some sort of greatest hits collection. The
minute your four-year-old mind starts to wander, poof! there's
a man in drag on stilts, wearing a hoop skirt big enough to fit eight
pirouetting tweens inside. Stella was in heaven.
Sitting in the darkened theater, listening to that gorgeous music that's as familiar as a lullaby, I thought about how one Christmas when I was a teenager I convinced my mom to take me to the Nutcracker after a number of years not having seen it, and how disappointed I had been. Not that there was anything wrong with it of course - I'm pretty sure NYCB doesn't actually fail at anything, they're the best, I would say they're always on point but it'd be a terrible pun - but it was completely missing the luminous magic I remembered pouring off the stage when I was little. I had simply outgrown being excited about a land of candy or a growing-before-your-eyes Christmas tree, but I felt broken.
Last Sunday, cuddling with Stella over the armrest and hearing her small whispering voice in my ear, "Mommy! Herr Drosselmeyer is up on the clock! What is he doing?" or admiring her straight little back as she perched on the edge of her seat like a horse in the starting gate, repairs were made. I know what a cliche it is to say you see things newly when you see them through the eyes of a child, but I've always taken that to mean you get the opportunity to see the way the child sees, and this was more than that. Being there with Stella allowed me to appreciate the nuances, the artistry, the workmanship of the ballet in a new but distinctly adult way. Creating the right mood of excitement and fun for Stella meant that I had to look beyond the judgements I would, I'm ashamed to say, probably have brought to Nutcracker: that it is, if not actually tacky, at least unhip. And oh, what I would have missed. The Sugarplum Fairy's pas de deux with her Cavalier, for example, was exquisite. It's a big, breathtaking piece of choreograhy, lots of lifts, but like any classical ballet it can look stiff and soulless in the wrong hands. Sarah Mearns danced the part and I thought she was brilliant. She has to be crazy young, she was only just made principal this year, but I was pretty blown away. And the children! The children were amazing! There are far more parts for children in Nutcracker than in an average ballet; it's another reason it is such a fun show for kids in the audience. Again, I'm sure given that it's NYCB that the children are always fantastic, culled from the School of American Ballet as they are, but I'm not sure how much I would have appreciated them without Stella's good influence. Being there with my excited, starry-eyed little girl just increased my enjoyment so much, I was able to really sink in and watch, and see. At the end of the day, Stella told me, "Today was the happiest day I ever had in my entire life." And I had to agree, it was definitely on my own top ten.
{1983}
{2008}
So here's to renewed traditions. May it be the first (again) of many. And may I remember, when my own little ones are teenagers and they get it into their heads to go see Nutcracker at Christmas for old time's sake, to tell them to wait until they have little ones of their own.
