Review: NUTCRACKER at London Coliseum

This new production conceptualised and choreographed by English National Ballet’s Canadian artistic director Aaron S. Watkin in collaboration with Arielle Smith with set and costumes by Dick Bird, reflects an apparent desire to update proceedings to the Edwardian period with nods to the social drivers of the day, most notably (though inconsistently) the Women’s suffrage movement.

For such a wonderfully charming confection, the ballet hasn’t been without its detractors over the years — one of the most commonly levelled criticisms being that Act I is all story and no dance, whilst (you guessed it) Act II is all dance and very little story. This critic usually chooses to rise above such seemingly pernickety observations and simply revel in the joyous spectacle and wonderful diversity of the Russian maestro’s tunefulness coupled with the wistful seasonal charm which should bring a warm glow to any audience member. However, critics such as myself, are in attendance to critique, to offer an assessment of the effort on show, so bear with… because frankly, I have been struggling to park a number of irritations.

Clara (an irrepressible Delilah Wiggins) receives a toy soldier at Christmas and dreams of accompanying him on his daring toy world adventures. Irrespective of the inevitable adornments, (the Christmas tree, the plethora of beribboned gift boxes, and the anticipated surfeit of gushing munchkins), there is also secreted amidst the actively cultivated, cloying tweefest, a level of disjointedness in the end result which buffs the shine clean off this snow globe. Did the rot set-in perhaps when the creatives decided to put their names ahead of Tchaikovsky’s in the programme? One has to wonder. The end result is sometimes marvellous, occasionally diabetes-inducing, but consistently inconsistent.

As previously mentioned, Suffragettes (complete with placards) appear in Drosselmeyer’s Emporium of Sweets and Delights at the top of the show and then sporadically reappear elsewhere, as though the production needed to get its money’s worth out of the costume budget, but for no other discernible reason. It’s a flaw which is perhaps borne of the lack in a single, determined and resolute vision. Choreography by compromise and committee, simply sucks. Here, it sucks like a Wonka gobstopper. There are great set pieces and poor ones. A chocolate box of delights, coupled with the rotten stench of tooth decay.

The second half in particular, is vulnerable. As always, it enables those exceptional talents, who have honed their skills and technique over years of training and dedication, to showcase their art. Here however, the mish-mash choreography serves to expose perhaps more obviously than usual where synchronicity and common backstories are resolutely missing. Yes, it may seem churlish to point out, but even The Nutcracker, requires some acting from the dancers.

Junor Souza is a swirling magician - creating joy and mayhem and never fully revealing whether he is merely mischievous or malevolent. James Streeter revels in his bad-boy playbook while Anna Nevzorova’s Ice Queen has an almost ditzy edge to her austere chill. The set pieces were an exceedingly mixed confection. The Egyptians — a cappuccino trio delivering a cup of orchid root milk with cinnamon — had moments, but as with much of the production, the design concept was far superior to the dance interpretation. The Chinese pair delivering Tanghulu demonstrated the angles and speedily executed rigidity one desires from this moment, but as a pair, they were as Vladimir and Estragon — one appeared to be grinning about a holiday tryst in Ibiza whilst the other was solving a chess problem. Such expressive incongruities in the match-ups, are clearly visible to the audience and should be addressed in the rehearsal room. Ballet’s Liquorice Allsorts (a clever play on Bassett’s, with suitably dressed tots rolled-out to elicit ahhhhs from the audience), was a design triumph over saccharine sycophancy. The Spanish Turrón sextet brought some vim and sharp lines - but rarely matched their sexy bravado with anything approaching synchronicity. Perhaps the best in the sectionals were the dancers in the Makivnyk led by a future crowd pleaser Erik Woolhouse.

Italian Francesco Gabriele Frola also gave the audience plenty to cheer about as the liberated soldier Nutcracker Prince paired with the graceful adolescent Clara Ivana Bueno. An equally blithe and serene presence was Emma Hawes as the Sugar Plum Fairy, though her Cavalier Aitor Arrieta seemed all at sea when confronted with a face full of organza tulle, and was little more than a support.

An odd night. Colourful. Often playful. Inventive (in terms of design concept) but with a weirdly incongruous blend of choreography which - like a bonbon which has been left in the bottom of the bowl - just doesn’t quite taste right.