A Nutcracker Story: Tangle
As part of the 40th Anniversary Heritage Photos series, Helen—a BBT alumna, who graduated 10 years ago—shared a short story about her first Nutcracker divertissement role, Chinese Tea. The story features photos and a video of the performance.
Studio A always got crowded in the weeks leading up to the performance. I remember sitting quietly as a little girl with my back against the wall and legs folded up by my chest. The older girls, or Big Girls, commanded the floor when it was their turn to rehearse. My eyes were glued to every point, line, and flow of their movements. I wanted to be just like them.
Performance nights filled the theater with the best kind of energy. The low hum of parent voices and warm lighting always gave me a rush of excitement. As a little girl, it was easy to weave around the legs, handbags, and draped jackets that stood between me and the most valuable thing I could get my hands on: a pair of old, musty, worn-in pointe shoes sold at the stand near the concessions.
Five dollars was a bargain for the broken-in pointe shoes of my idols, the Big Girls. My classmates and I were always comparing our collections. We’d even slip them on at times, breaking the rules to dance en pointe when no one was watching, always wishing that the bright black signature across the toe would someday be our own.
The winter performance of 2007 was my someday. It was my first Nutcracker divertissement role: Chinese Tea. A delightful duet featuring two identical dancers, each holding long beautiful Chinese silk ribbons that bounce and spring with upbeat movements. Despite being extremely well-rehearsed, I was still nervous–all my friends and family had front row seats. Fortunately, the duet was with my best friend Breanna, which helped with my pre-stage nerves, along with the cracking of what felt like every joint in my body.
There I stood, just out of sight at the edge of the right-wing, looking across at Breanna in an identical orange unitard. We nodded to each other, took our stance, and scurried on stage with the hum of the music. My mind was so focused as we painted elegant curves in the air with our ribbons. It was as if the audience wasn’t even there. In perfect unison, we turned to face one another creating a synchronized flurry of ribbon across the floor. It felt effortless. Then it felt stuck. Our beautiful ribbons had effortlessly tied themselves in a knot. Suddenly, I was very aware of my friends and family in the audience. Locked in a swirling storm of tangled ribbons, my perfectly rehearsed moment to shine became an improvised display of on-stage survival. Soon, I found myself tangled in a beautiful silk web of my own making, barely able to move. We took a bow, shuffled off, and broke into laughter backstage. We had received the loudest applause of the night, I even remember hearing a “Bravo!”.
That was certainly not how I imagined that performance going. It was supposed to be my time to become one of the Big Girls I’ve always looked up to. My nine-year-old self didn’t imagine a hilarious entanglement that would have over 37,000 views on YouTube.
I had to put all of that behind me because the following season I was to dance the role of Clara. In the weeks before my performance, I remember the faces of the little girls sitting quietly against the wall of the studio, eyes glued to me as I rehearsed.
On the night of the show, the audience erupted in applause for my performance instead of for their amusement. It felt incredible, but nothing made me feel more like a Big Girl than when a little girl found me in the crowd that night. She presented me with one of my old, musty, worn-in signed pointe shoes that she’d bought from the stand near the concessions. She asked me to write her a message across the toe and sign it again. I’ll never forget it.
