Cracking nuts! etc
I'm not going to call this a review because I wouldn't know where to start actually reviewing a ballet. This is only the third one I've ever been to, and all of them have been directed/choreographed by Matthew Bourne, so I'm hardly the expert. Although I might go back next year to see Insane in the Brain, "a street-dance version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" partly because there's some kind of law that I have to see any production with a naked man on the poster, but mainly 'cause IT'S A STREET-DANCE VERSION OF ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, I mean how many layers of WTF does that cover? Ahem. In the meantime, I went to see Matthew Bourne's Nutcracker! (their exclamation mark) tonight.
You know when you go to see a Matthew Bourne ballet that there should at least be a decent amount of male flesh on show; tonight it started even before the curtain went up. You know when a guy takes his sweater off and accidentally pulls a bit of his shirt up as well? The adorable guy sitting next to me did that, but pulled the shirt up a lot further than usual. There was nipple! (It's Nipple Thursday! Apparently.)
At this point you may have figured out why I don't quite feel myself qualified to do a ballet review. Tell you what, just find a positive review in one of the papers, and assume my opinion is "er, yeah, what s/he said." Bourne's take on the story sees Clara, a girl in an ophanage being broken out by the Nutcracker, a creepy doll who turns into a hot guy (Adam Galbraith - woof!) You can understand why she's pissed off when an oversized snowball to the head makes him lose his memory, and get stolen by her rival, Sugar. The second act is all Technicolour in Sweetieland, where the fact that all the characters are confectionery gives everyone an excuse to lick each other and look really pleased about it. Which I'm sure has no double meaning that'll go over the kids' heads or anything. The dancers were all excellent, Anthony Ward's designs are lavish, and I wasn't bored so there you go.
On the way out the company were collecting money for AIDS charities. The fact that I made a beeline for a topless Adam Galbraith should be taken as a sign only of my generosity. Carefully planning my exit route to avoid half a dozen pink-clad ballerinas shaking collection tins is completely irrelevant. (Up close he's actually quite craggy-faced, but I still *would*. Which is perhaps not a huge surprise since the list of men under 40 I *wouldn't* is hardly War and Peace.)
So in summary, my review of Nutcrackerexclamationmark is: Nipples.
Oh for fuck's sake, Olivier Awards committe, it's not like I was applying to be on the ballet panel, you can hardly hold this against me.
Matthew Bourne's Nutcracker! is booking until the 20th of January 2008 at Sadler's Wells.
You know when you go to see a Matthew Bourne ballet that there should at least be a decent amount of male flesh on show; tonight it started even before the curtain went up. You know when a guy takes his sweater off and accidentally pulls a bit of his shirt up as well? The adorable guy sitting next to me did that, but pulled the shirt up a lot further than usual. There was nipple! (It's Nipple Thursday! Apparently.)
At this point you may have figured out why I don't quite feel myself qualified to do a ballet review. Tell you what, just find a positive review in one of the papers, and assume my opinion is "er, yeah, what s/he said." Bourne's take on the story sees Clara, a girl in an ophanage being broken out by the Nutcracker, a creepy doll who turns into a hot guy (Adam Galbraith - woof!) You can understand why she's pissed off when an oversized snowball to the head makes him lose his memory, and get stolen by her rival, Sugar. The second act is all Technicolour in Sweetieland, where the fact that all the characters are confectionery gives everyone an excuse to lick each other and look really pleased about it. Which I'm sure has no double meaning that'll go over the kids' heads or anything. The dancers were all excellent, Anthony Ward's designs are lavish, and I wasn't bored so there you go.
On the way out the company were collecting money for AIDS charities. The fact that I made a beeline for a topless Adam Galbraith should be taken as a sign only of my generosity. Carefully planning my exit route to avoid half a dozen pink-clad ballerinas shaking collection tins is completely irrelevant. (Up close he's actually quite craggy-faced, but I still *would*. Which is perhaps not a huge surprise since the list of men under 40 I *wouldn't* is hardly War and Peace.)
So in summary, my review of Nutcrackerexclamationmark is: Nipples.
Oh for fuck's sake, Olivier Awards committe, it's not like I was applying to be on the ballet panel, you can hardly hold this against me.
Matthew Bourne's Nutcracker! is booking until the 20th of January 2008 at Sadler's Wells.