‘Nutcracker’ Gets Tinseltown Touch

When “The Nutcracker” is set in 1932 Hollywood, young Clara’s dilemma upon waking at midnight Christmas Eve changes. There’s still a battle in her living room--this time with an Art Deco tree that looks more like the Empire State Building--it’s just that the forces of evil, usually scurrying gray mice, become gangsta rats, who slink by in pinstriped zoot suits. Their leader is not--as you might expect--Jimmy Cagney, urging on “you dirty rats,” but a femme fatale Rat Queen who looks like a cross between Cyd Charisse and Anjelica Huston.

State Street Ballet has some fun with deco design and vintage film types in its “Hollywood Nutcracker,” seen over the weekend at the company’s home, the Lobero Theatre in Santa Barbara. And why not give a Tinseltown twist to a ballet known for its visual opulence and popular appeal? The first-act celebration can then be a wrap party with Clara (talented 14-year-old Jennifer Whalen) idolizing her favorite ingenue (Olga Chekachova), who later turns into the Sugar Plum Fairy; the Rat Queen can be called Gruella de Mille (Rebecca Thompson); and the snowflakes and flowers can look like Busby Berkeley glorifications of the American girl.

Sets (by Daniel C. Nyiri) are angle-filled confections in shades of purple, steely blue and gold. And the prologue and closing “credits” roll by on a screen, just like in the movies. But in between, things go awry.

Not with the goody-goody girls in green polka-dots and pinafores who prance to the saucy flutes in the “Mirlitons,” or the athletic “specialty” duet between a saucy-wench maid and a wine waiter (replacing the Russian dance).

But Tchaikovsky’s lyrical snowflake waltz (from a good recording of the score) seems a bit wasted when used for “showgirl ballet” in jeweled bras and silver fringed skirts. And somehow a flapper version of the Sugar Plum Fairy doesn’t work when she vamps to the delicate, rippling celesta, or, in the majestic adagio, grins like Norma Desmond, ready for her close-up.

In fact, this version has too much Hollywood at times and too little at others. There’s plenty of hyperactive excess--choreographers Rodney Gustafson (artistic director) and Gary McKenzie (a company dancer)--have allowed flashy and often unevenly executed technical feats to dominate, usually sacrificing the classical balance that can enhance the score so effortlessly. On the other hand, they could have used more film references, especially when it comes to sense of humor and that crucial “It’s a Wonderful Life” feeling.

It’s not that “The Nutcracker” isn’t adaptation-friendly--Mark Morris’ “Hard Nut” successfully has ‘60s party-goers frug to Tchaikovsky and presents more scenes of family dysfunction than a Reagan reunion. But so far, the “Hollywood Nutcracker” is less audacious and comprehensive when it comes to concept. In time, it could be--like most of Hollywood, “The Nutcracker” is not averse to plastic surgery.