Nutcracker And Mouse King
Ballet by Christian Spuck (2017) [110:21]
Music by Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Choreography by Christian Spuck (b. 1969)
Drosselmeyer: Dominik Slavkovskı, Marie: Michelle Willems, The nutcracker prince/Drosselmeyer’s nephew: William Moore, Princess Pirlipat: Giulia Tonelli, Fritz: Daniel Mulligan
Ballett Zürich
Junior Ballett
Philharmonia Zürich/Paul Connelly
Children’s Choir and SoprAlti of the Opernhaus Zürich
rec. Opernhaus Zürich, April 2018
Picture format: 16:9 NTSC
Sound formats: Dolby Digital 5.1, PCM Stereo
Disc format: DVD-9
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
ACCENTUS MUSIC DVD ACC20449 [110 mins]
No-one can possibly deny that, when it comes to classical ballet, Tchaikovsky’s three compositions remain the most consistent crowd-pullers. It’s no surprise, therefore, that we find dance companies around the world often relying on regular productions of, in particular, Swan Lake and The nutcracker to subsidise some of their less popular ventures.
While audiences for Swan lake and The nutcracker consistently demonstrate their affection for traditional productions and choreography, today’s producers – knowing full well that the mere hint of a swan or a sugar plum fairy will always fill the auditorium – sometimes venture outside familiar boundaries and try something a little different. The results, as you might expect, vary. I am still, after five years, little the wiser as to what Compagnie Malka’s A nutcracker (review) was all about. The sheer weirdness of Maurice Béjart’s The nutcracker (review) was, on the other hand, somewhat endearing. And when it came to Jean-Christophe Maillot’s Lac (after Swan lake) (review) I confess that I was completely won over.
I have actually encountered a danced performance entitled The nutcracker and the mouse king before (review). That was a recording of a Dutch National Ballet production that, like this new Swiss one, took its inspiration from the E.T.A. Hoffmann story Nussknacker und mausekönig that had also, though in significantly-altered fashion, formed the basis of the familiar Petipa/Tchaikovsky collaboration. But while both the Dutch and Swiss productions may share the same title, they are really quite different, not only in their own sometimes idiosyncratic interpretations of Hoffmann’s tale but also in their choreography - devised by Toer van Schayk and Wayne Eagling in the Netherlands and now, for Ballett Zürich, by the company’s Ballet Director Christian Spuck. If you already own the Dutch performance on disc, you certainly need not, therefore, automatically rule out the Swiss version on the grounds of duplication.
Before we look at the new performance in more detail, let’s get one small but annoying point out of the way. As you can see, the disc’s cover tells us that we are about to watch Nutcracker and mouse king. The printing on the disc confirms that title. When we watch the film itself, however, we are informed that there are a couple of definite articles in there – The nutcracker and the mouse king. Such slipshod inconsistency is irritating - but while it can sometimes be indicative of a worrying lack of attention to detail in production values, in this case, thankfully, I can confirm that it turns out to be simply an annoyance.
The first thing that will strike you about Ballett Zurich’s production, especially if you are familiar with traditional versions of The nutcracker or even with Dutch National Ballet’s The nutcracker and the mouse king, is that the order of Tchaikovsky’s music has been rearranged quite drastically in order to fit it to a new storyline. Opening with a version of the Dance of the sugar plum fairy (14c in the conventional sequence) played – in an echo of the Maurice Béjart version – by an accordionist who performs intermittently during the rest of the show, we then move directly on to, of all things, the ballet’s closing waltz and grand finale (15). The first Act continues thereafter with numbers 1, 4, 12e, 4 (continued), 1 (again), 12a, 12c, 12d, 12e, 12f, 2, 5, 3, 6 and 9, while the second Act runs 14d, 11, 7, 8, 13, 12b, 1, 14c and 14a. Even though virtually everything – with the exception, unless I missed them, of The enchanted palace of the kingdom of sweets (10), Variation I (tarantella) (14b) and Coda (14d) – has been included, you will easily appreciate from those sequences that there’s been considerable musical to-ing and fro-ing both between and within the two Acts as they are more conventionally presented.
As already suggested, the reason why the music has been re-ordered so drastically is to suit the requirements of the new version of Hoffmann’s original story. The big innovation here is the introduction of a lengthy play-within-a-play, the scenes of which alternate with others set at the Stahlbaum family’s Christmas party. A somewhat simplified version of the story goes as follows… Act 1: On a visit to their godfather Herr Drosselmeyer, Marie and her brother Fritz watch as he puts on a life-size puppet show. It is the story of a certain princess Pirlipat who, having been turned into a gluttonous nut-eating monster by the queen of the mice, is subsequently restored to her original form by a somewhat geeky prince. The latter kills the wicked mouse matriarch – but not before she has turned him into a nutcracker. After watching the show, Marie returns home to her family party where she is presented with the nutcracker puppet by Drosselmeyer and is quite enchanted with her gift. Act 2: Falling asleep, Marie dreams of a mouse king, come to avenge his mother’s death. Thankfully, however, the nutcracker kills the royal rodent in battle and is then magically transformed into the prince of Marie’s dreams. He transports her to her to celebrations in Sugar Land before he mysteriously disappears. Waking up from her dream, Marie encounters Drosselmeyer’s nephew who is the spitting image of – guess who! (It’s not the mouse king.)
It has often been pointed out that in traditional performances of The nutcracker the story has always been the weak point, particularly in the anti-climactic second Act that’s little more than a series of familiar divertissements. Christian Spuck’s new version doesn’t quite resolve all the points at issue and, indeed, might actually be held to create one or two new ones. What, for instance, is the significance of the accordionist observing everything from the side of the stage and who are the strange clown-like figures who interrupt the action from time to time? Nonetheless, Herr Spuck undeniably succeeds in reducing the dramatic imbalance between the two Acts and the new story’s strengthened pace and clearer linearity means that it is no longer in danger of petering out rather aimlessly at the conclusion.
The re-ordering of Tchaikovsky’s score also works surprisingly well. I could demonstrate that success with many examples, but will make the point with just one. In the Petipa/Tchaikovsky version of The nutcracker, one of the best-loved episodes takes place at midnight in front of the family Christmas tree. It is accompanied by about five or six minutes of gloriously soaring melody (Scene, 6) – Tchaikovsky at his most Romantic (and yet, paradoxically, entirely at odds with the narrative which makes it plain that we are not at that point watching the tree growing, as the musical language certainly implies, but rather the young girl shrinking away to the size of a mouse). That whole scene is, however, absent from The nutcracker and the mouse king, which leaves that luscious section of the score free to be utilised elsewhere. Rather than frittering it away on matters arboreal, Spunk utilises it for a rather well choreographed pas de deux for Marie and the nutcracker prince that not only makes the whole story just that little more engaging at that point but also adds to the characters’ emotional complexity (though we probably need to make something of a leap of faith in assuming that a wooden doll can actually exhibit feelings at any level at all).
Christian Spuck’s choreography is a generally happy marriage between traditional and more contemporary styles. Of its dancers, the two romantic leads Michelle Willems and William Moore are both very fine but in truth the stage is dominated by Dominik Slavkovskı who takes the role of Drosselmeyer. He gives the character an even more creepily sinister persona than usual, which is quite appropriate to E.T.A. Hoffmann’s original and distinctly dark story. The other featured cast members acquit themselves well too. A special mention is due to the two clowns, danced by Yen Han and Matthew Knight, even though I was pretty flummoxed as to what purpose their characters actually served – especially when the whole action came to an unexpected halt at one point so that Knight could demonstrate his tap-dancing skills. The members of the corps de ballet give good accounts of themselves, particularly when skilfully impersonating the jerky life-sized puppets of the princess’s court. Meanwhile, the orchestra under Paul Connelly plays the rearranged score as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
This is a well filmed production that is dark, both literally and metaphorically. The Zürich stage is kept very bare, with virtually no props in use or recognisable scenery on show, while the background is often featureless black or dark blue. As a result, the costumes are frequently the most colourful visible items. That rather spare approach suits the production’s general atmosphere, too. While I might well think twice before exposing a very young child to some of its scarier or more disturbing moments, an adult audience that’s prepared to approach it with open minds will find its approach an intriguing new twist on a familiar ballet. I’ve watched The nutcracker and the mouse king through three times so far, and my appreciation has increased on each viewing. I couldn’t really ask for any more than that.
Rob Maynard