Amal Choucri Catta finds Christmas is still Christmas The Nutcracker, Cairo Opera Ballet Company, Cairo Opera Orchestra, cond. Ivan Filev, director Abdel-Moneim Kamel, Cairo Opera House, Main Hall 25 - 29 December, 8pm. Softly, soothingly, like a lullaby, the prelude began in front of the closed curtain, the music quietly opening doors to dreamland, inviting the audience into a world of wonder, a land of marvels, filled with Christmas trees, dancing flowers, delicious chocolates, delicate sweetmeats and all kinds of dainty dishes. And on opening night the audience sat spellbound, for here was something new, something we had missed last Christmas, even the year before, when the prelude had been dispensed with and the curtain directly opened onto the street in front of doctor Stahlbaum's residence. This time, however, it was clear from the start: we were going to be served the entire ballet, with its three different scenes, all its mice and all its dances. The Nutcracker, or Schchelkunchik, composed by Piotr Ilitch Tchaikovsky to a libretto by Marius Petipa and choreography by Lev Ivanov, is based on a fantastic tale by the German author Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann: Nussknacker und M�usekönig, Nutcracker and the king of mice, included in Die Seapionsbrüder, a rather complicated story within a story. Simplified by Tchaikovsky and Petipa, the tale is a refined version for children, where the battle of the mouse king and his army against the Hussars and their Nutcracker leader, plays a major part. We were lucky to have them all: starting with the strange Mr Drosselmayer, the two Claras, the Nutcracker- Hussar, the beautiful corps-de-ballet and the excellent soloists. The curtain opened and it was softly snowing. Doctor Stahlbaum's guests were hurrying to his Christmas party. Later, in the main salon, children gathered around the huge Christmas tree, looking for their presents and giving Master Drosselmayer a hard time, begging for more of his famous tricks. True, the salon was somewhat weary, as were the curtains, the costumes and the entire scenography, but the music was filled with beauty and the dancers with enthusiasm, and the audience, many of whom must have been watching the ballet for the first time, never thought of complaining. They laughed at Grandpa and Grandma's trembling steps while they were trying to put on a show, lovingly aided by their children and grandchildren on stage; they admired young Clara's witty limitation of Drosselmayer's pas-de-danse and loved her splendid solo. There were lots of promising children, ballet students of the Academy of Arts, participating in the show, a most welcome sight compared to last year's chaotic spectacle. After all is said and done Christmas can't be Christmas without the Nutcracker: since the ballet's creation in St Petersburg in 1892 it has been programmed for Christmas. In Cairo, it has been on the Christmas programme for ten years, with the Academy of Arts Ballet School's collaboration beginning in 1993. Since then the children have become an integral part of the show, adding delight to the spectacle. The children went on dancing to cheerful melodies, around their presents, around the clown, the dark puppet and the colourful Christmas cake, until it was time to leave. Lights dimmed, the music softened, while the guests made their way onto the snow-covered streets. Back in the house Clara, doctor Stahlbaum's daughter, made her way into the darkened salon where the Christmas tree was brightly gleaming. She had come in her nightgown, looking for her nutcracker, the brave little soldier she had received that night from Drosselmayer. Nobody wanted Nutcracker, not even her brother who had tried to break the wooden doll twice. She felt strangely attracted to the puppet and as she picked it up the Christmas tree and all the surroundings suddenly grew taller, seeming to rise up into the sky, and as suddenly Drosselmayer appeared out of nowhere. Clara, scared, rushed to a chair, trying to hide when a tiny mouse unexpectedly appeared; a sweet little grey mouse, so small it amused the audience. But their amusement didn't last, for with every tingle of the bell another mouse appeared, twelve in all, each one bigger than the previous and the last one, King Mouse, the biggest of all. They prepared for battle with the little soldiers, with the horsemen and finally with Nutcracker who, in the end, manages to kill the king. This part of the ballet, executed by young students of the ballet school, may seem childish to older spectators but is always well-received by the young. Its music is animated, stimulating and lively, the tune quite lovely and the rhythm full of spirit. And while we keep on looking, we realise young Clara has disappeared: in her place we have a beautiful young lady, and in place of Nutcracker we are faced with a handsome Hussar in his red-and-white uniform, who decides to take his fair Lady Clara on a fascinating trip to Confitürenland, a place of jams and marmalades and of sweets of all kinds. They start off by dancing through the snow: the splendid white flakes receive them like kings in the spellbinding Dance of the Flakes. The music and choreography of this dance are as perfect as possible, the dancers in fluffy white tutus and immaculate headdress. And when they disappear, at the end of their dance, behind a transparent curtain, onto mysterious pathways leading into starlit skies, they seem to be stepping into heaven. The music swells in a closing crescendo to a tutti fortissimi, while the curtain falls on Act One and spectators snap out of their reverie. Act Two opens on a colourful seascape, with Clara and her Prince on their boat: their journey is not devoid of obstacles. Somewhere on the road to sweet-city Clara seems to be encountering King Mouse and his army in a hellish grotto. The Prince rapidly intervenes and the couple is finally greeted by Lady Chocolate in a lemon-coloured dress, executing a joyful Spanish dance. Her costume should have been red, as it used to be, though the yellow did just as well. Her movements, though, were too repetitive and rather boring. Then came a very graceful Miss Coffee executing her Eastern Dance with a quartet of ladies, all clad in pink and flesh- coloured hose, which is surely not the colour of coffee. They were followed by the quintet of Tea, executing the Chinese Dance in green-and-white costumes with assorted umbrellas, one of which was broken. It was, alas, the umbrella in the front row, which the dancer kept twisting and turning to the tune of the music, absolutely unaware of the catastrophe she was holding in her hands. Nevertheless, the kind-hearted audience forgave and forgot and clapped encouragingly at the end of the dance. Finally we had the Matroshika, the Russian red-and-white dance enthusiastically interpreted by children, while Clara and her Prince were greeted by the corps-de-ballet, all in pink-and-white, giving us a lovely version of the famous Waltz of the Flowers, one of Tchaikovsky's most popular tunes. Then came the abrupt end. Drosselmayer's unexpected appearance interrupted the audience's reverie: the Prince disappeared with his Lady Clara, and young Clara was suddenly back in her nightgown, holding her beloved nutcracker and realising it had all been just a beautiful dream. The audience stood up cheering the soloists, the children, the corps-de-ballet, the orchestra and the brilliant Ivan Filev, who has been conducting the ballet for ten years. The music was splendid, the tempo perfect, the entire show a lovely Christmas gift.
