Battle with mice and oh, so many children

A Christmas tree grew in Glendale. Kind of. Even with the help of Sterlyn Steele of the Magic Castle as Drosselmeyer, the Media City Ballet production of “The Nutcracker” at the Alex Theatre on Sunday evening was a clunky, cluttered, way too kiddie-infested affair.

This version was choreographed by Media City artistic director Natasha Middleton after one staged by her father, Andrei Tremaine (he danced with Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and is the company’s coach). He in turn fashioned his steps after Petipa. But there was little in the staging to call enchanting. Except, that is, for the intoxicating presence of Arsen Sorobian as the Nutcracker Prince.

Sorobian’s solo showcased buttery-soft landings and razor-sharp turns, though he was mostly buried amid a sea of preening children when he wasn’t serving as a lifting device for a cloying Jacqueline Pagone as Clara and Gaida Paulovska as a Sugar Plum Fairy possessed of an elegant line but a chilly demeanor.

As for Steele, he proved an illusionist with zero flair and an arsenal of tired tricks, including pulling coins from ears and scarves from sleeves and sprinkling confetti to herald the snow scene.

Set to taped Tchaikovsky, the staging began with the usual party, where an endless parade of kids (the cast numbered 100) jumped around aimlessly before digging into presents. A bit of real dancing ensued when Drosselmeyer sprung Harlequino and Colombina -- Michael Forsch and Nicole Mathis -- from his magic box and the pair moved with quintessential robotic brio.

The clock then gonged, the cardboard tree grew, and the mice did battle amid uninspired painted backdrops by Bob Davies and John Pomeroy, of Walt Disney and Universal, respectively.

When Sorobian donned his prince garb and began to jete, folly ensued, as he was forced to dodge-dance with Clara as she sat atop a moving pink bed that seemed in need of an exorcism.

Relief arrived in the form of Askar Kettebekov, another charmer whose quicksilver turns and able partnering served him well as Snow King to Ellen Rosa’s Snow Queen. His buoyant presence also enhanced his pas de deux with Ruth Fentroy’s Dew Drop.

When actual dancers were allowed to strut their stuff, including Mathis and Jonathan Sharp as slinky Arabians and Atle Hoff and Anthony Wayne Johnson as squat-kicking Russians, the evening sprang to life.

But Middleton’s overstuffed storytelling needed red meat choreography, not a gooey, made-for-doting-parents’ production where her job was mostly traffic control.