Review: English National Ballet’s new production of Nutcracker – “…the house went Nuts!”

“Everyone’s a Fruit and Nut Case… crazy for” a decent Nutcracker that will stand the test of time! And so, we find ourselves at the Coliseum for the London premiere of English National Ballet’s new production, co-choreographed by the company’s Artistic Director Aaron Watkin and dancemaker du jour Arielle Smith.

In a nutshell (boom boom!) it’s more of a hit than a flop… but there are numerous questionable moments regarding the choreography, or rather, where’s the choreography and what’s it doing? Off the bat, it’s important to acknowledge the consummate work of designer Dick Bird. His atmospheric, Edwardian Act 1 is apt and attractive, and Act 2 is a vivid, joyful realisation of the Sugar Plum Fairy’s homeland. And Bird, unlike many others, understands the correct usage of projections – to enhance rather than supersede the experience. That said, Act 2 opens with what feels like an elongated flight simulator experience, which is more nauseating than anything else!

Overall, the production follows the expected narrative structure, so I won’t repeat what we all know, though a different take is the use of Act 2 characters in the Act 1 party scene. Sugar Plum is Mum etc, and guests are the Divertissement. I can understand why but I’d propose two issues – confusion (if you don’t know the Nutcracker you may wonder why everyone needs to be someone else); injuries (considering the usual ENB Nutcracker season, is it wise to use fewer dancers and make them do more per show? Time will tell).

I couldn’t find obvious, specific choreographic accreditation, but hazarding a guess I’d say Act 1 is Smith, and the Snow scene onwards belongs to Watkin.

Smith’s work feels overly busy in general and disconnected from the visual environment. Group scenes are difficult to master, but Smith has gone down the perpetual movement route rather than less is more – and it’s a problem.

As the whole scene communicates as relentless and bitty, character development is near on impossible, which means it’s difficult for the observer to connect in any meaningful way. Junor Souza as Drosselmeyer is the closest thing to tangible, but he, like everyone else on stage, overworks facial expression in order to build character. ENB can often struggle with high-standard stagecraft capability, and couple this with a choreographer who doesn’t necessarily understand the required textures and range of dynamics that successful group scenes need, and we have an ickle bit of a problem.

In good news the transformation scene feels magical – minus the odd easily seen stagehand – and includes the moment that Clara matures into a company dancer.

The Battle starts well but loses its charm quite quickly. And also – where’s the tree gone?! A backdrop is brought in to encase the scene, but consequently cancels Christmas… bah humbug I say!

Overall, the Battle needs tightening in terms of execution, and also some editing of random characters and props. Suffragettes featured in the opening prologue scene work historically, but why did they rock up in the Battle? We’ve left Edwardian planet Earth, no? I felt sorry for three tiny Gingerbread people who did nothing except make it clear they couldn’t see a thing in their garb. Likewise, we had two random baubles who appeared spinning, spun some more, and then spun off. The cheese with additional silverskin pickled onion is funny, but a random sighting of a cocktail sausage starts to confuse matters even further.

Post Battle, we experience our first major, classical ballet moment. Often known as the Snow pas de deux (now Under a Silvery Sky), Watkin’s take is love fuelled, and here we start to enjoy Ivana Bueno’s luxurious dancing as Clara and Francesco Gabriele Frola‘s capable, but often cold in feel, Nutcracker Prince. Watkin uses space well and includes original lifts, but the setting is bizarre. We have a giant silver bauble acting as the moon and a large, branchless tree trunk. I kept thinking Vollmond by Pina Bausch.

Closing Act 1 is the Snow scene, here known as the Ice Realm, and it’s largely a no for me. Watkin evidently favours a pyramid scheme as we see the corps de ballet overshadowed by four soloist ladies and one principal lead. The ice approach allows for some fresh, sassy port de bras choices, but largely speaking I didn’t find the choreography evocative or with nearly enough movement. Everything feels step-based: endless preparation and pirouette for the Ice Queen, and what do Italian fouettés have to do with anything? I’d say lose the classroom combos, use the corps more, and make them move. Bring back the snow in Snowflakes!

Act 1 finishes as Act 2 starts, with Clara and the Nutcracker Prince airborne in a sleigh pulled by a Seahorse. Seahorse? Anyone…? But when they arrive in the Land of Sweets and Delights, things are looking good. Bird has gone down the circus tent, camp (as in Susan Sontag) flavour for the set, and it works, though the arrangement eats into the stage space, which can make numerous moments feel too tight.

The Sugar Plum and Prince are bedecked in lilac attire which is far more palatable in real life than earlier released promotional footage suggested, and off we go into the Divertissement. Watkin has towed the PC line by referencing global food and drinks for each interlude, which is cute, but the crux is fundamentally the same.

Spanish = Turrón, and the number is full of sass but choreographically light. Arabian is now Egyptian Sahlab (hot orchid root milk with cinnamon) and opens with a clever gag – (female) milk in cup with two, tall, amorous male cinnamon stick counterparts. What follows is lots of longing fluff, so kinda the same old. Chinese is Tanghulu (candied hawthorn berries) and is a reprise moment of the short-lived Chimney sweeps from Act 1’s prologue. The number feels largely about the oversized berries on sticks, and includes predictable martial arts-infused language. The two male dancers are also aiming to be the fruits in question, so they find themselves in hijabs with bowler hats on top. It’s a bizarre visual if honest.

Russian has become Ukrainian Makivnyk (poppyseed roll). This is a bit of a confused number with the male lead – a confident Erik Woolhouse – giving off both circus entertainer and racing car driver vibes. Watkin has included the expected level of bravado and feat, yet I’m unsure if the four, umbrella-carrying minions add to the occasion. I suppose they say “roll” as they twizzle.

Mirlitons are now Marzipan-Zwiebelfloten (German marzipan flutes) and enter the stage on a larger-than-life candy display that works well. Less successful are the costuming choices with candy helmets almost covering the eyes, neck ruffs breaking line and angular tutus being angular. Flutes we already know, and the choreography continues down the expected, articulated route.

Liquorice Allsorts is the kids’ number and it more than does the job. They all enter via a big box of sweets and are joined by an Allsorts Master danced by Rentaro Nakaaki. Watkin has given the role a Willy Wonka feel and Nakaaki is charm personified to the point I stopped watching the children! Is that the point? Watkin also introduces a distinct use of the upper body with a sideways bend/cambré to accentuate port de bras poses. This is seriously appreciated in both style and execution.

To many, Christmas means Waltz of the Flowers, however now we have Buttercream Roses. And actually, it’s less of a group waltz and more of a trickster pas d’action. The pyramid scheme approach is back with corps, four soloists and Clara and the Nutcracker Prince, and the dancing doesn’t stop. I couldn’t tell you a discernible, choreographic motif after just one viewing, but I can confirm that Frola jumps and turns like there’s no tomorrow (still largely cold though), Bueno continues her molten-like execution which included a triple pose pirouette en dehors as if the easiest thing in the world, and that the Roses’ headgear is too oversized to take seriously. Watkin uses some original floor patterning throughout, but the overall feel is squished and maybe a tad unmusical… but I’d need to see it again to confirm the latter.

Finishing the evening is of course the grand pas de deux, and the couple in question, Emma Hawes and Aitor Arrieta, were stunning. Hawes so much so, that one feels classical ballet has a future when executed with such generosity and sophistication.

The pas de deux flew by in a cloud of lilac harmony, and one can understand Watkin’s modern take full of historical referencing – and it works. I connected with at least two, undeniable Ashtonian poses, which is never a bad thing. And we also see the Sugar Plum using a specific port de bras (repeatedly) infused with style – a 5th position with crossed, wilted wrists and hands. The visual feel is reminiscent of Michel Fokine’s Le Spectre de la rose, but it works here as the ballerina seems to open like a flower each time she lifts out of the 5th.

The solos were less successful. Watkin has given the Prince some awkward phrases in relation to coordination, and I don’t think Arrieta’s opening night nerves helped matters. And the Sugar Plum variation feels like Watkin’s fantasy version. It’s too complex to fully understand with just one viewing, but cross-phrasing choices and heavily perfumed combinations warrant further study and understanding… an MA thesis even! And for the record, I very much appreciate the new take on gargouillade inclusion.

The ballet closes without any major surprises, and it must be said that the house went Nuts! Overall, the production is visually stunning, and with yearly ongoing tweaks, it definitely has longevity in its midst. I’m happy ENB has moved on from the previous production, as it was beyond necessary, and this one offers a valuable, and competitive alternative to Peter Wright’s version danced by both the Royal Ballet and Birmingham Royal Ballet. A shrewd move for ENB.

The English National Ballet Philharmonic sounded wonderful under the baton of Maria Seletskaja, who has great taste in tempi, and the dancers continue to shine under Watkin’s directorship, especially the men. Though the night absolutely belonged to Hawes – a modern-day ballerina no less – and we’re lucky she chooses to dance in London I say!

Matthew Paluch Guest Author

Matthew Paluch was awarded a place at The Royal Ballet School in 1990 where he graduated in 1997. His first four years as a professional dancer were spent working with London City Ballet, Scottish Ballet, K-Ballet and English National Ballet, becoming a full-time member of ENB until leaving in 2006.

Matthew graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance, Professional Dancers’ Teaching Diploma in 2007, and was formerly on faculty at The Royal Ballet School. He completed his Masters in Ballet Studies at Roehampton University in 2011, has been a freelance writer since 2010 and currently works in the Law Sector.

He is a member of the Dance Section of The Critics’ Circle.