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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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<text id=92TT2921>
<title>
Dec. 28, 1992: Reviews:Dance
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992
Dec. 28, 1992 What Does Science Tell Us About God?
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 67
DANCE
Visions of Robot-Rats
</hdr><body>
<p>By Martha Duffy
</p>
<qt>
<l>TITLE: THE HARD NUT</l>
<l>CHOREOGRAPHER: Mark Morris</l>
<l>WHERE: Brooklyn Academy of Music</l>
</qt>
<p> BOTTOM LINE: This radical reworking of The Nutcracker may
be uneven, but it's always good for a laugh.
</p>
<p> The bourgeois German household has been banished in favor
of an American apartment decorated in 1960s high tacky. The
Stahlbaum children get a giant Barbie doll and a spaceman at
their family Christmas Eve party. The guests are dressed in the
worst excesses of a quarter-century ago, and before long they
are drunk and lubricious. Postmodern choreographer Mark Morris,
never at a loss for a flip word or gesture, insists that his
take on the Tchaikovsky classic is not a send-up, but that is
exactly what it is--rude, boisterous and more than a little,
well, nutty.
</p>
<p> Much of his invention is fresh and to the point. As usual
with Morris, the production is gender-blind. Mother Stahlbaum
is played with zest by a man (Peter Wing Healey), who doubles
as a portly Dewdrop in The Waltz of the Flowers. The corps de
ballet comprises both males and females, some on pointe, some
not. The Snowflake Waltz, without doubt the show's highlight,
is performed by this motley assemblage of 22 in an ingenious
parody of classical choreography. But instead of the snow
drifting down from the rafters, the dancers carry it onstage by
the fistful, and each time they jump, they fling it into the
air. Silly? Definitely. But like all the best sight gags, it
gets more laughs with each repetition.
</p>
<p> The Hard Nut, which was seen on PBS last week, debuted in
Brussels' Theatre Royal de la Monnaie in 1991. Thanks to Belgian
government backing, Morris was able to mount a handsome
production, with especially lavish costumes. The largesse makes
it even more unfortunate that in the end the choreographer's
imagination is defeated by Tchaikovsky. In the second act the
music expands opulently, demanding matching grandeur onstage.
But Morris wastes the grand pas de deux on a routine group
number and sets the explosive coda as a small-scale duet for
Marie, the heroine, and the Nutcracker Prince. It's a bad
letdown.
</p>
<p> Still, Morris provides the audience with plenty of
inspired entertainment along the way. The rodents that infest
Marie's nightmare are purposeful robot-rats circling her with
unblinking orange eyes. The various outbursts of sibling rivalry
are pursued with a ferocity that prompts youngsters in the
audience to pinch the overdressed child in the next seat. For
the parents, Morris, 37, and his visual collaborator,
comic-strip artist Charles Burns, also 37, offer heavily
freighted tableaux--how it was, way back when people wore
bell-bottoms and leisure suits, and how it is now, when the wish
for a perfect family Christmas collides with the need to knock
back some extra holiday cheer.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>