CATRIONA BURNS struggles to make sense of her first exposure to ballet.

“YOU TALKING TO ME?” Where’s that line from? Yeah, Taxi Driver.  I’ve never seen the film (I know I’ll, get round to it) but I know that line.  There are lots of things like that, The Nutcracker being one of them.  Until now I’ve never seen The Nutcracker as a ballet but I know the story pretty well.  I’ve read the books based on the story, seen several animated versions of it on TV and even coloured in pictures of it.

So what do I get from seeing the ballet?

Eden Court isn’t that big a theatre, you can see clearly from one side to the other, so why do the people in the box beside me have….opera glasses?  This conforms with every bizarre anti-snob prejudice I’ve ever struggled not to have.  But, looking around the three-quarters full theatre it is mainly full of normal people who can see the stage without magnification and don’t use the word “summer” as a verb.

When the ballet begins the set is stunning.  A massive house which opens up, like a doll’s house, to show a party inside.  I don’t actually watch what’s going on for a bit and just stare at the spectacle.  Then it’s the costumes that catch my eye rather than the action.  To be honest it’s a bit of a problem, there is so much to look at I can’t take in what’s happening.  It’s fantastically surreal.  There’s a window in the background with sweets, rats and people all flying past. I can’t understand it, and, by this time, I’ve given up trying.

In this scene there are children playing and opening up Christmas presents, people dancing at a party, this part makes sense. Then the mice come in, I like these guys, they are dark and twisted.  Anything with a dark side against all this prettiness suits me fine.  Just in case you are wondering, I do wear a lot of black.

The second half, frankly, loses it.  I don’t have a clue what’s going on.  There’s a costume change and I forget who’s who, so at this point I completely lose the plot and get confused by all the action.  The orchestra is amazing, despite being sprayed with sweat from the dancers.  Being in the pit looks like some kind of doom.  I can’t fault the dancing (perhaps because I know nothing about it).  There are little explosions of applause as certain members of the audience “in the know” are delighted by the dancer’s moves.  I have no idea how hard any of this stuff is, because I can’t do any of it.

Something about ballet makes me uneasy.  Maybe it’s the slightly elitist thing, (I mean, opera glasses, really).  Part of me rebels against seeing unnaturally thin people doing things they physically shouldn’t be able to do and just knowing that these people have sold their soul to dance and are wrecking their feet for my viewing pleasure makes me uneasy.

The second half doesn’t make any sense and I begin to wish Dad hadn’t taped over the cartoon version we had a couple of Christmases ago.  It becomes so wrapped up in its internal sense, it forgets the audience is there and forgets to tell a story.  The audience watches in awe but we aren’t really involved, like it’s nothing really to do with us. I miss the story, it’s beautiful but it’s shallow.

Tonight, there is more than the orchestra between the performers and the audience – or this member of it, anyway.

© Catriona Burns, 2005

Related Links:

Scottish Ballet website
Nutcracker review by Helen Slater