Chaos and bobbypins

Nearly through the annual Nutcracker grind wonderment. Part of the fun is the road show, where every year we get to experience communities in western Massachusetts we’ve never before visited — experiencing them in the cold, snow and dark. Always a quaint, lovely town that we promise to visit again in the summer — and then never do. This time it was the lovely little town of Great Barrington. And we were in a lovely renovated theater, the Mahaiwe Performing Arts Center, a rare example of an ornate small theater — the kind of which there used to be several in every city. For the most part only the grand movie palaces have survived, and few of those, so this was a special treat.

This was a two-night deal, with a dress rehearsal Wednesday night and performance last night, so a double-grind of late-night driving, bag suppers, and, for both parents and performers, a lot of waiting around. Dress was stressful and went late but the drive was fine and on the way back I said, “At least we’ve got clear weather — not like some of those nights driving down the Taconic in ice.”

So, little did I know that while we were taking in the rarefied Nutcracker air, the first major storm of the season was coming in. Before noon yesterday, the dump began, and generalized panic ensued. Schools were closing, roads were a mess, and once again the question of whether the Nutcracker is worth dying for came up. But the show must go on and there’s a reason I have a big Xterra with four-wheel drive and massive clearance, so I might as well use the thing for its divine purpose. And really, despite all the snow, the driving wasn’t awful, and we made the hour drive in an hour and a half, not bad at all.

But that wasn’t the case for everyone — some were delayed, some got caught behind a road-closing crash, and some decided not to come at all. So pre-show (while the earlier show was going on) was a flurry of Nutcracker census-taking, trying to determine how many mice, mini-mice, angels, soldier, and clowns were in attendance, on their way, or among the missing. In addition, there was a battle scene that still needed rehearsing, and the only place to do it was the downstairs lobby, smaller even than the cramped stage. In the end, there was a nearly full complement of soldiers and mice, but there was a woefully small complement of angels, so some of the battle players were pressed into service as second-act angels, having to learn the dance in a matter of minutes, scurrying for borrowed white tights and a hair arrangement approximating the regulation angel braids. But when they were onstage, you would never have known. The soldiers slew the mouse king in perfect time, and the angels fluttered about wonderfully.

Only two more shows to go, these right here at the Egg. But snow’s predicted, just to make it exciting!