The world is brimming with intriguing, wonderful stories. Books and plays and movies filled with pages of tragic comedy, spiritual revelations and intricate plots.
You know what isn’t filled with any of these? The Nutcracker. You know, the ballet that pops up this time of year on everything from Christmas wrap to the elementary school stage. Or, as I’ve come to realize, the most ridiculous, silly storyline ever.
Don’t get me wrong: the dancing and music are artistic and so pretty. The costumes and sets are beautiful. GORGEOUS are the velvet ball gowns and paper snow and magical Christmas tree. The girls and I braved downtown Houston to see the world-renowned Houston Ballet perform the holiday classic, and the whole experience was enchanting.
But I’m feeling a little Nutcracker-ed out. This Christmas season, I’ve seen that performance, the televised version, read the book to Elisabeth hundreds of times, and watched the girls’ own living room performances.
The result? I have overthought the shallow plot, character stereotypes, and holes in the story. Really the whole thing is very long dream. If you’re not sure whether or not listening to other people’s dreams is entertaining, see how you feel the next time someone calls and says, “I have to tell you all about my dream!” You’re probably already zoning out before they get to the part about the seven-headed mouse sword fighting with an army of kitchen tools.
Elisabeth, however, has not overanalyzed the story. She still loves it. One of her Christmas presents was a (working) Clara nutcracker holding a non-working Nutcracker (oh, the meta irony). Now she and this Clara-Nutcracker act out thousands of versions of Herr Drosselmeyer giving her this odd gift.
In brighter literarily news, we saw Les Mis last night, and it was fantastic. An intricate plot, no character stereotypes, and spiritual revelations abounded.
And best of all…no seven-headed mice, creepy Godfathers, or long, boring dreams.
