Nutcracker

Nutcracker by English National Ballet

English National Ballet delivers a Nutcracker that glows with warmth, wonder, and superb artistry

Well if this doesn’t get you feeling festive, nothing will. Unlike other productions, this one is set in Edwardian England, a nod perhaps, to the London Coliseum first opening its doors in 1904, yet it still feels every bit as Christmassy as if we were in Victorian London, postcard snow and all.

From the outset, there’s a real sense of bustle: the shop, the street scene, the glow of a winter crowd. While I’m on atmosphere, I should also say how much the production leans into movement as storytelling not just “pretty ballet”, but dancing that genuinely builds the world around Clara. You feel the joy of the season in the way ensembles sweep through a picture, the way a character steps into the rhythm of a scene, and the way the choreography keeps flicking between charm and mischief.

In the early street section, seeing the small child pickpockets with their rat tails made me think the production might be about to take a slightly different turn. It seemed to stay on track, which did leave me questioning why the tails appeared here at all. That said, the Chimney Sweeps (Miguel Angel Maidana and Rhys Antoni Yeomans) are full of heart, and full of flair too. They roll and leap with the sort of buoyancy that makes you grin, using their sweeps to support some gorgeous jumps. Those props aren’t just decoration; they’re part of the vocabulary of the dance. The sweeps are even placed on the floor for young Clara to perform a mini Ghillie Callum, which is both clever and oddly endearing in a “look what I can do” childlike way.

Young Clara (Delilah Wiggins) is every bit full of personality and expression, so lovely to see, especially when she’s playing with and pretending to be a Nutcracker herself. It’s one of those performances where you don’t feel like you’re watching “the child role”; you feel like you’re watching a child with an imagination that’s already dancing with the music.

As the Christmas party gathers momentum, the production gives us some genuinely warm, musical storytelling, with the Maid and Butler (Eireen Evrard and Shunhei Fuchiyama) joining in and being rather merry, in the old-fashioned sense of the word. The scene has that satisfying, theatrical swell where everything is twinkling and everyone is in motion. There was, however, one performer upstage centre doing a little too much miming and laughing, to the point it became distracting. Still, this is also where Drosselmeyer does most of the magic and illusions, so keep an eye out.

Whilst Clara sleeps, the tone shifts, and it’s beautifully done. The rats emerge through projection mapping: silhouettes running and crawling around the stage, with one morphing into the Rat King. It’s eerie without being grotesque, exactly right for a family audience who want a shiver, not a nightmare. Clara shrinks down to size and is now performed by Ivana Bueno. There were a few moments in the next sequence that felt slightly odd: Suffragettes appear when Clara fights the Rat King (they were in the street scene earlier), but seeing them alongside shrunken Clara and the rats jarred a little. There was also a curious, blink-and-you-miss-it moment with an oversized cocktail sausage coming on and off in a way that made you wonder if it was an in-joke you’d somehow missed. Add to that some servants appearing throughout in slightly creepy masks. And yet, in spite of the occasional “why is that here?”, the props and visuals are superb, the kind of stagecraft that keeps your eyes busy in the best way.

The Ice Realm is simply beautiful. There’s a moment where white snow falls against a black background, and it’s breathtaking (set and costume design, concept by Dick Bird). It’s one of those images that feels properly magical, the sort of theatrical picture that reminds you why this ballet becomes a tradition for so many families.

Because this is The Nutcracker, music matters. Tchaikovsky does so much of the emotional lifting in this piece; the sparkle, the swell, the quiet ache and under Music Director and Conductor Maria Seletskaja, the score has that crisp, wintry clarity that makes the big moments feel bigger and the delicate ones land properly. It’s that exact balance you want at Christmas.

I must also say how lovely it is to see English National Ballet still supporting and encouraging young performers and graduates alike. Especially at this time of year, having seen a few pantos, I’ve noticed that children (often from local dance schools) don’t always feature as much as they used to. Here, though not “local” schools, it’s genuinely heartening to see involvement from Adagio School of Dance, Tring Park School of Performing Arts, English National Ballet School, English National Ballet School’s Graduate Artiste Programme, The Royal Ballet School, along with the dancers we have the choir who join us from the box. It gives the whole evening that extra festive texture, like the theatre itself is a community, not just a cast.

A new addition, looking beautiful, though it did cause a bit of confusion is the chariot to take them to the Land of Sweets: horse-drawn by an ice seahorse as it flies across the stage. It’s whimsical, certainly, and very “storybook”, even if your brain does a quick practical check of what it thinks it’s seeing and how it fits in.

My favourite moment, and one that will stay with me is ,what is usually called the Arabian Coffee, but is here the Sahlab (Egyptian hot orchid root milk with cinnamon). Performed by Minjy Kang, José María Lorca Menchón, and Elvis Nudo, it’s breathtaking. Costume and props once again elevate what is already a magnificent dance into something genuinely special: we see the cinnamon sticks come to life as the men, while Kang appears as the milk (though I’ll confess, to my uncultured mind, it read like a creamy hot chocolate with flakes). The sleeves accordion and unfurl, pulled, whipped, and manipulated with real artistry, not to mention the sheer skill it takes to make something so fiddly look so fluid. It’s sensual, strange, and spellbinding in exactly the way this section should be.

I won’t give you the full blow-by-blow. I felt the Rat King could have put up more of a fight, but overall everything; set, costume, lighting, and that constant undercurrent of different dance works so well together. The performers and the choreography (Aaron S. Watkin and Arielle Smith) are magnificent: festive, magical, and exactly what you want from English National Ballet at this time of year.