‘The Nutcracker’ in a Nutshell

Sometimes, Christmas arrives looking just like a postcard, and then it gets better and better.

OK, maybe not at your house, but consider “The Nutcracker,” in which Clara’s fun Christmas Eve party gives way to a midnight fantasy of spectacularly picturesque proportions. Her ordinary tinsel-laden tree expands in a fit of gigantism, while Tchaikovsky’s emotionally expansive chords make it seem even more majestic. Snow starts to fall--not the messy kind that clogs roadways but the pristinely floating kind that turns Clara’s world into a snow-globe paradise. No one says a word, but graceful dancing speaks volumes about an imaginary world, full of positive pleasures.

Or at least that’s what happens when “The Nutcracker” fulfills its destiny. This season in the Southland alone, more than a dozen productions will attempt to deliver on the ballet’s holiday promise, from dancing school extravaganzas to pitch-in community efforts to big-name touring companies and local ballets of different levels. And all of them will participate in the evolution of the annual “Nutcracker,” a ballet that’s undergone constant change from the moment in 1892 when a tale by E.T.A. Hoffmann was radically simplified for the Russian imperial ballet stage. There are versions including a “Harlem Nutcracker” and a Barbie “Nutcracker”; there are stiff Russian versions and hometown American ones; and there are versions that make you want to see your shrink.

With so many “Nutcrackers” available, how do you decide which one to see? It’s all a matter of looking for the ballet’s core values, finding what you might call the Essential “Nutcracker.” First, you need Tchaikovsky; then comes basic fidelity to the story--girl gets doll, doll comes to life and fights battle, doll takes girl through a snow forest and into Candy Land, where everyone feels so darn good they just have to dance. Add to that liberal amounts of magic, crowds of children and a home-and-hearth holiday mood, and you’ve got yourself a real “Nutcracker.”

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In the beginning, there was Tchaikovsky, whose music buoys every production today. That is, when the score is used judiciously. Orchestras aren’t always necessary; a stellar recording of the score can be preferable to a sketchy live performance.

For all the variations in the story, setting and characters, there’s really no need to stray too far from the original ballet libretto, which Tchaikovsky used as his template for the music. Following the clues works out well: Scary music announces the entrance of a mysterious party guest, a lullaby is meant for rocking the injured Nutcracker, and fluttering flutes herald the first snowflake’s entrance.

Those who tamper too much with the sweetly simple plot often run into sticky territory. Barbie, for instance. Her new animated movie, “Barbie in the Nutcracker” (available on video), launches Barbie on adventures that stray so far from any previous “Nutcracker” story that she might as well have remade “The Wizard of Oz” or called it “Rebecca of Sunnybrook Candy Land.” Added to that, she hardly dances a step. When she does, she looks--not surprisingly--plastic, even though the animation is based on performances by New York City Ballet dancers (choreographed by Peter Martins).

Elsewhere, the temptation to improve the plot by making it more conventionally cohesive has resulted in the ascendancy of the magician Drosselmeyer, who gives Clara the Nutcracker doll. The well-researched Royal Ballet version (on a 1985 video; a revival of this production was taped last December and will be shown on PBS on Dec. 26) and a few others recover some of the Hoffmann tale, making the old guy the major character. That makes sense, but it sidelines the importance of Clara’s bravery and active imagination, thus striking down one of ballet’s best representatives of girl power.

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Another approach to the plot expands Clara’s role but at the cost of her peace of mind. Seeking to add psychological depth to “The Nutcracker,” the Russians started casting an adult as Clara, making her an adolescent. That means she can fall in love and replace the Sugar Plum Fairy character (who traditionally dances a duet with her Cavalier), thus providing a meatier role for a ballerina. Americans are more content to let Clara remain a little girl. Then she can have a fantasy adventure, come home safely and postpone all romantic dilemmas until later in life--or at least until after Christmas.

In Mikhail Baryshnikov’s much-televised “Nutcracker” for American Ballet Theatre (also available on videotape), Gelsey Kirkland is a luminous adolescent Clara and, as in Russian versions, takes the music of the Sugar Plum Fairy for herself. As breathtakingly as Kirkland dances, I prefer to see Clara remain a young, brave outsider and the Sugar Plum Fairy be a dancing monarch--there are so few of them these days, and who’s ruling Candy Land while we watch Clara struggle with puppy love?

The truly odd thing about the plot in the Baryshnikov version is the last close-up, when we see Kirkland staring questioningly out a window. Kids wonder what she’s confused about--didn’t she just have a great time and get good gifts? Adults probably see the un-”Nutcracker”-like truth--that finding your prince and keeping your prince are two separate things.

Rudolf Nureyev’s unfortunate “Nutcracker,” on the other hand, is not so delicate in suggesting Clara’s adolescent angst. As seen in videos featuring the Paris Opera Ballet and the Royal Ballet, her journey is such a psychological nightmare (the mice tear off her skirt, bats show up in Candy Land) that the word “Freudian” showed up in reviews a revealing number of times.

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Much of this psychologizing seems in aid of making “The Nutcracker” less an empty spectacle. But magic and special effects are among the ballet’s strong points. No matter what else happens, people are going to wait for some key moments--the tree must grow beyond the scope of most things with ornaments, and snow must fall in an enchanted forest, no matter how many dancers claim they can’t pirouette with bits of paper flakes in their eyes.

George Balanchine, making his “Nutcracker” for the New York City Ballet in 1954, knew that special effects could happily coexist with classical dancing. When a worried budget-watcher asked him if he could do his new ballet without the expensive, ever-expanding tree, his answer was brief. “No. Ballet is the tree.” That’s the spirit. Balanchine also added flying reindeer and so much snow the dancers make paths in it.

Unlike many of his Russian colleagues, Balanchine also never shied away from casting children in significant numbers. Good move, because watching adults skip along in fluffy dresses and short pants is just depressing. You end up wondering: Are there no more children in ballet schools? In this country, “The Nutcracker” is as much about youthful enthusiasm at Christmas and the appreciation of emerging dancers as it is about lofty aesthetic pleasures, as welcome as those always are.

American Ballet Theatre director Kevin McKenzie evidently found out about the appeal of child dancers after the premiere of his “Nutcracker” in 1993. Their absence wasn’t the only criticism of the production, but when the company comes to the new Kodak Theatre next week, local children will join the cast.

McKenzie’s version also flirts with plot and score changes--a revised narrative, by playwright Wendy Wasserstein, adds dolls and party guests that seem extraneous to the tradition (exactly who is Pippa, the big game hunter?). But more distressing in 1993 were McKenzie’s alterations to the score--adding, subtracting and rearranging. It was like watching someone tinker with a wedding ceremony and decide that the bride and groom might as well kiss first and say their vows at the reception. He’s promised to put the Tchaikovsky all back in order.

Oddly enough, two of the best “Nutcrackers” get away with ignoring a lot of these hallmarks, perhaps because they adhere to others in an offbeat way and capture the right “Nutcracker” attitude. In “The Hard Nut,” Mark Morris’ 1960s version, the plot is complicated by returning to Hoffmann’s story. This generally is a bad idea--it’s full of time lapses, back stories and arcane revenge plots (a morsel of browned fat plays a key role; don’t ask)--not exactly promising for a sparkling evening of Christmas delights. Still, Morris manages to make skewed sense of everything by the end.

Some ballet-goers might look askance at the rest of Morris’ unconventional changes--drag performances, party guests doing the twist to Tchaikovsky, men in snowflake tutus. But his version is actually very traditional in terms of following the score (he uses it in its entirety) and evoking both fun and sentiment with his extremely musical choreography.

Donald Byrd’s jazzy “Harlem Nutcracker” takes liberties with the plot as well, this time making Clara a grandmother looking back on her life (the second act becomes “Club Sweets,” her memories of the Harlem Renaissance). Byrd’s adaptation uses jazzed-up Tchaikovsky and tweaks stereotypes affectionately and effectively in the second-act dances (he calls his way cool Sugar Plum “a Bob Fosse woman,” and the Arabian dance revolves around a comical male bodybuilder). At his contemporary Christmas Eve party, hip-hop, salsa and gospel substitute for the usual European-based social dancing, and it’s a mood as festive as in any “Nutcracker.”

Any “Nutcracker” in North America, that is--this is where the ballet found its home-and-hearth mood, a must for the Essential “Nutcracker.” Parents at the Christmas Eve gathering are doting or dotty, and the Sugar Plum Fairy can look motherly and queenly at the same time. Watch the Russian versions from the Bolshoi or the Kirov and you’ll see that they feature more formal parties, where the kids don’t seem real and everyone moves to strictly defined beats. Their battle scenes can be dead serious, whereas American soldiers and mice get pleasantly cartoonish. Here, “Nutcrackers” have become friendly. There’s often a homey, bountiful chaos suggested--a plus when community-based versions feature non-dancers who can’t hold an arabesque but are great at Christmas party schmoozing.

To evoke all these essentials, it’s nice to see professional dancers, which this season might point local ballet-goers toward the ABT or Moscow Classical Ballet productions. But, though I’ll always go to see ABT’s Paloma Herrera and Julie Kent as the Sugar Plum Fairy, I also recommend less vaunted versions.

All you need do is look for a strong ballet academy in the background and an artistic director who can resist the pleadings of stage parents who want untrained little Susie to play Clara or she’ll just die! I’ve seen a low-budget “Nutcracker” shine in a high school auditorium and a touring company die in a vast concert hall.

Fortunately, the current production close to me, by the Inland Pacific Ballet in Claremont, has a great combination of “Nutcracker” ingredients--a core group of professionals; well-trained young dancers who look like they’re having fun; choreography and plot that honor Tchaikovsky and the tradition; and affordable wands and tiaras at the ballet boutique. Who could ask for more?

Yet people do. Back in 1892 and still today, critics berate “The Nutcracker” for its too simple story, but in North America, it has proved elegant--and flexible--in its simplicity. The Russians are still wondering what we see in it, while each Christmas we flock to hear Tchaikovsky’s brilliant music help tell a variation of the same story, full of hope and desire.

The best “Nutcrackers” deliver satisfying messages--families are chaotic but important; children are amazing; ballet is challenging; adventures are scary; rewards are spectacular. Oh, and the hidden message really is that life has a certain amount of continuity, because there will always be another “Nutcracker.”

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Jennifer Fisher, who teaches dance history and theory at Pomona College, is the author of an upcoming book for Yale University Press about “The Nutcracker” as a North American phenomenon. She also reviews dance for The Times.