Holiday Prep Update



The countdown to Mom continues. Only 2 days left! She's here on Monday. I am getting the tree today near Home Depot. $25 plus tax on a giant 7.5 foot balsam. Can't beat that price.



Might I add how Nutcracker Thursday night was divine, excepting one ballerina who was really off. It's my 24th year of chasing this music I love, and NYCB, once again, did not disappoint. I remember the days of Katherine Healy and Peter Boal from 1979-80...Katherine is now retired from ballet and guests occasionally with Ice Theatre of New York. Peter is a principal dancer with NYCB. This year's cast had many new faces, many of whom are daughters and granddaughters of people I remember from the 70's and early 80's!



As for that out-of-place ballerina, her name is Yvonne Bourree, a fine last name considering it's also a difficult ballet step. Her name couldn't save her this time around...coming out of a supported ronde de jambe, she actually fell INTO her partner, the incomparable Nikolaj Hubbe. The next step in the grand pas de deux is a turning shoulder lift, and she almost knocked him over. Lastly, two minutes later, during a pirouette, a piece of her costume flew off. My eagle-eyed focus and strong binoculars caught all this, of course, but any balletomane could see this was an "off" night for her. I like her, too. Not as much as that beguiling creature Miranda Weese.



Leading the marzipan shepherdesses, Miranda sparkled with high elevation and a crisp attack on her battements. Dancing slightly ahead of the music, she landed ON the note every time. This is what catches an audiences' eye! She is a dancer for whom gravity and its rules should not apply. I envision her skimming the floor, floating and never touching the ground. One jete begins where the last one ended. She leads your eye forward and you ache when she disappears into the wings.



Once more thing I noticed, too: on stage left, the set design from Act I shows a shadow of a yellow cat in the window. I swear on my life I never actually looked at the set before Thursday night! This cat is a visual reference to Mourka, George Balanchine's cat. She is immortalized on that wing, and I never noticed! How genius--George's sense of humor is still intact 20 years after his death. How sweet is that? Mourka even had her own book in the late 60's, it's a collector's item now if you can find a copy.



A quarter of a century and Tchaikovsky still thrills me. I hope I never grow up...