Fantastically Nutty

For audiences, Minnesota Dance Theatre’s annual Nutcracker Fantasy is an energetic and beautiful holiday show—a few hours of color, music, and dance to celebrate the season. But for those involved in the show, it’s a different story.

Behind the scenes, a lot happens in this forty-three-year-old Nutcracker production that you would never guess from watching the show. You wouldn’t know, for example, that dancers such as Christina Marchiori, last year’s Marie, train five days a week and begin rehearsing in October. You wouldn’t know that the costumes, which look so fresh and bright onstage, are some- times thirty years old, with rows of “armor” (hooks and eyes) on the backs from generations of dancers. You wouldn’t know that the Sugar-plum Fairy’s costume is still the original tutu made for Lise Houlton, now artistic director of the company that her mother, Loyce Houlton, founded. You wouldn’t guess that dancers say the French epithet “merde” to each other before performances—the dancers’ version of “break a leg.” You wouldn’t know that the Nutcracker doll is named Bob.

Backstage is its own frenetic world. Parents are doing makeup, dancers are warming up, crew members are hoisting set and lighting elements—“It’s like Grand Central Station back there,” Houlton says.

Plenty of things can go wrong in this swirl. The “fog” (dry ice) can be a culprit. One night, conductor Philip Brunelle says, the fog came into the orchestra pit and momentarily blinded all the musicians. Shoes, tiaras, the Rat Queen’s sword—all have landed in the orchestra pit. Company member Melanie Verna once dislocated her knee onstage: “There was fluffy tulle in the air and I was trying to crawl off,” she recalls.

This Nutcracker has accumulated many stories over the years, Houlton says, “some of them really sad and tragic and some hysterical—in retrospect.” Peggy Seipp, now retired from the James Sewell Ballet, was once a mouse at MDT. Unable to see clearly in her mouse mask, she danced her best—straight into the orchestra pit. But, says Houlton, “she grew up to be a Sugarplum Fairy, so that was a happy ending."

Crazy as it is, Nutcracker season is a happy time for the cast and crew. “It’s a challenge for everybody,” says Verna, but “we all have fun together.” Twelve-year-old Christina Marchiori loves working with the older dancers in the company: “They’re such good dancers, and they’ll tell you their tricks.” For Houlton, seeing the children explore the many roles of the Nutcracker keeps her going through her hard work. She also loves the cooperation behind the show: “There’s such a wonderful feeling of camaraderie.” For the parents, watching their children dance is the biggest thrill: “I cried,” says Pam Marchiori, Christina’s mother. “It was just wonderful.”

And the art itself—Loyce Houlton’s choreography and Tchaikovsky’s music—continues to move even those who make it year after year. Conductor Brunelle has a favorite moment toward the end of the first act. The orchestra, he says, can tell by the look on his face how much he enjoys this climax. Sounding more like an audience member anticipating the opening of the curtain than someone inside the magic, he says that every year he can’t help but think, “Oh, good—here comes that wonderful moment. Oh, wonderful—here it comes.”

Dec 20–24. State Theatre, 805 Hennepin Ave., Mpls., 612-673-2007