Christmas dance party is all it’s cracked up to be Columnist goes behind the scenes to take part in RWB holiday tradition By: Jen Zoratti Posted: 7:00 PM CST Thursday, Dec. 22, 2022

Opinion

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 22/12/2022 (991 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Welcome to Jen Tries, a semi-regular feature in which Free Press columnist Jen Zoratti will try something new and report back. In this instalment, Jen Tries… being in Nutcracker.

Walk-on roles are a Nutcracker tradition for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet.

Every year, the organization asks all manner of Winnipeggers — business leaders, community builders, politicians, actors, musicians, media personalities and athletes — to join the cast as guests in Act I’s boisterous Christmas Eve party, hosted by Clara’s parents at their Wellington Crescent home.

Which is how I came to be onstage, briefly, at the Centennial Concert Hall with the Royal Winnipeg Ballet on opening night of Nutcracker, along with Dan Cannon, Ryan Spracklin and Ivanka Watkin, three-fifths of local Celtic band Dust Rhinos.

The process started a few weeks ago with a fitting at the RWB wardrobe department, itself a hallowed hall of tulle and satin and sequins, for our period dress (this Nutcracker is set in 1913).

They are efficient, kind and no-nonsense; if something doesn’t work — like my initial silver gown which proved to be, uh, a bit of a squeeze (OK, I couldn’t move my arms) — it is whisked away and a replacement is found.

The sage and teal number I ended up wearing slid on much more easily, but costuming still needs to be tight. I couldn’t believe the number of snaps on the back of this costume. This thing was harder to get into than my wedding dress.

Day of, I was not nervous despite the facts of it: opening night, the Centennial Concert Hall stage, the RWB company, lots of people watching. Truly, the most nerve-racking part of my day was applying magnetic fake eyelashes, which are supposed to be held in place by magnetic eyeliner but frankly, adhered better to the metal scissors I used to trim them. (Also, fun fact, you can’t go in or near an MRI machine wearing magnetic eyelashes, which makes sense but is nonetheless an unsettling warning to see printed on the side of a box for something that goes very near your eyeballs.)

Backstage at the Centennial Concert Hall was a humming hive of activity. Company members and RWB School students alike were getting into costume. A stagehand walked by with mice tails. In the hair and makeup room, I waited for my turn to be bewigged while second soloist Katie Bonnell was being transformed into Clara’s mom via an intricate ginger wig. She grinned at me in the mirror. “Are you having fun?”

I was having fun — it’s easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of backstage, especially for a show like Nutcracker. A brunette wig, coiffed to turn-of-the-last-century perfection, was placed on my head and secured with pins in two minutes flat, completing my makeover into Wellington Crescent partygoer.

“You have to tell me if it’s uncomfortable now, because it will be really uncomfortable later,” the hairstylist cautioned. It wasn’t painful so much as it was hot. I only had to sit and, occasionally, stand. I can’t believe people actually have to dance in these.

When we got down into the wings, the nerves found me. What is my character? Oh no, I forgot to get a fur coat from costuming and we’re supposed to be coming in from outside — did I ruin the ballet? What do I do with my hands!?

Our instructions, from associate artistic director Tara Birtwhistle were simple: have fun and stay out of the way. The first cue was to head to the green tufted couch. The green couch was our home base, our lighthouse.

“As we say in the business, ‘merde!’” Birtwhistle said, because you don’t say “break a leg” to a dancer. And that was that. Luckily, Dust Rhinos’ Spracklin used to work at RWB, so he was a wealth of knowledge (and reassurance).

In the wings, the company dancers are surprisingly informal. I don’t know what I was expecting — serious, focused silence? Instead, they were chatting, laughing and hanging out before flying out on stage.

Then, our turn. Adrenaline pumping. Out of the dark and into the bright stage lights. We made it to the green couch. The party was in full swing. Another thing I learned: you don’t actually need to pretend to talk or laugh while up there; we were actually talking and laughing.

Winnipeg Free Press | Newsletter

Jen Zoratti | Next

Wednesdays

What's next in arts, life and pop culture.

Sign up for Jen Zoratti | Next

Sign Up

I agree to the Terms and Conditions, Cookie and Privacy Policies, and CASL agreement.

Bonnell, now fully Clara’s mom, swanned over to us like a good host and greeted us with air kisses. The party kids crowded us on the couch. (All of the dancers were incredibly good sports and made the experience very comfortable: later, when Spracklin called out “Nice uniform” to dancer Joshua Hidson, dancing in the role of Aunt Josephine’s soldier fiancé Edouard, he responded, “Thank you, sir, are you a fellow veteran? Oh sorry, I have to go dance!” and practically jetéd away.)

And then, as I was sitting on the couch enjoying the party, I felt it. Pop. My dress was coming undone. Onstage. Quelle horreur. A huge shout-out, here, to Dust Rhinos’ Watkin for literally having my back. And then, as quickly as it started, our part was over.

The exposed wig bands, the heavy stage makeup, the tutus being done up, the dancers in chatty repose — these are the up-close-and-personal details of the ballet most people don’t get to see. And yet, when I returned to my seat for the second half, none of those backstage glimpses took away from the magic happening onstage. Principal artist Elizabeth Lamont was Clara opening night, and she’s such a beautiful dancer that one is instantly transported into Clara’s dream world where a Nutcracker can be a prince, and she can float through the air like a happy sigh.

In fact, seeing how the magic is made — and just how many dedicated people it takes to make it — only added to the experience. I was thrilled to be a tiny part of it.

jen.zoratti@winnipegfreepress.com

Jen Zoratti
Columnist

Jen Zoratti is a columnist and feature writer working in the Arts & Life department, as well as the author of the weekly newsletter NEXT. A National Newspaper Award finalist for arts and entertainment writing, Jen is a graduate of the Creative Communications program at RRC Polytech and was a music writer before joining the Free Press in 2013. Read more about Jen.

Every piece of reporting Jen produces is reviewed by an editing team before it is posted online or published in print – part of the Free Press‘s tradition, since 1872, of producing reliable independent journalism. Read more about Free Press’s history and mandate, and learn how our newsroom operates.