As enchanting as it is mystical, Hoffmann's "The Nutcracker" is a marvel, not least because it lies open to a multitude of diverse interpretations. The French choreographer Patrice Bart has chosen a reading with a historical slant.
Unlike the classical version, which begins with idyll and the anticipation of a feast, Bart's production—indeed, the very life of its heroine—commences with dreadful trials. His Marie is the daughter of a Grand Duchess, stolen from her home in childhood and torn from her mother during an armed rebellion. Marie lives with a foster family, yet the phantoms of her past refuse to release their hold. One Christmas, the girl receives the gift of a Nutcracker, dressed in the uniform of a guardsman; the doll stirs memories of the tragedy she endured long ago. From the realm of nightmarish shadows, she is saved by the mysterious Drosselmeyer, who leads Marie to her true mother, who now reigns in a kingdom of snow. And it is there that the maiden at last discovers her happiness.
One should not, perhaps, search for precise historical references in Bart's staging. After all, it is not for this that we love ballet. A performance set within a certain historical context remains, in its soul, classical in structure and breathtaking in the purity of its dance.
Its principal star, of course, is Vladimir Malakhov. A famed graduate of the Moscow Ballet Academy, who has forged a career both in the West and the East (he now serves as Artistic Director in Tokyo), he is possessed of a singular gift, one which people say makes him "dance as naturally as he breathes." His Prince is the very picture of an aristocratic ballet style, yet no less magnificent are the performers in the two leading female roles: Nadja Saidakova (Marie) and Beatrice Knop (the Grand Duchess). This Marie, with her dreamy pensiveness that somehow calls to mind Pushkin's Tatyana, is not the merry, sprightly girl often portrayed in "The Nutcracker." Her sorrows, fears, and hopes find an echo in Tchaikovsky's score, which is far from mere confectionery sweetness. Her love—lucid and pure—resounds not as a fleeting fantasy, but as a hard-won, long-awaited happiness realized at last.
This "Nutcracker" from the stage of the Berlin Opera is no naive children's fable, but rather a journey home, a pilgrimage to one's true self—through trials and dreams, and the dawning of new feelings.