But as the Sugarplum Fairy, Silvia Selvini used her delicacy to great effect to match the twinkly celesta in the score of her solo. If one is going the precise and gentle route, one has to nail it—and she did. She alit in dainty tendus after both solo pirouettes in the pas de deux. And she smiled graciously as she hit every carefully placed balance. Duclos, who had debuted as Cavalier just a few days prior, was similarly refined and secure despite his greenness. Both he and Selvini had gorgeous, tapered limbs and soup-ladle feet. Their approach was the opposite of the recent performance I caught in NY, where Emily Kikta’s grandeur was amplified by the towering Owen Flacke, in his debut. But both pairs were lovely. And I must mention the terrific bending of the demi-flowers, Ji Min Hong and Victoria Ball. It seems to be a strong year for demi-flowers, as Ava Sautter and Kloe Walker also stood out at City Ballet.             

The RDB’s Flower and Snow corps could have used more sweep and attack, however, especially since the tempi were so generous. (The Danish orchestra sounded amazing, I didn’t mind their indulgence.) The tall Snowflakes, for instance, hardly moved side to side or front and back in their piqués arabesques and bourrées in their first entrance. These were civilized flakes, not bold windblown ones. But I loved how the RDB’s Snow set incorporated the northerly latitude and mysticism of Denmark. Instead of the snow-capped pines of Rouben Ter-Arutunian’s sets for NYCB, Anthony Ward framed the dancers in a sort of fairy ice cave, with the North star low on the horizon. It was as if they were on the top of the earth at the North Pole, or perhaps in Elsa’s lair in Frozen. And instead of confetti, the falling snow was a projection, which worked well in that imaginative realm. (Projections in the party scene were effective too—my sons loved the possessed owl on the grandfather clock.) And how nice that the dancers didn’t have choose between shallow, insufficient breaths and choking on paper flakes in one of the most aerobic dances in the ballet!

Ward’s scenery was tastefully Nordic throughout. In both acts there was a surprising amount of blue and white, evoking the Royal Copenhagen fine china (as in the Tea costumes and teapot, and the simple pinstripe wallpaper of the Stahlbaums’ drawing room). I was also shocked that the famous growing Christmas tree—a huge focus and budget buster for Balanchine—was not subject to the trademarking. Ward’s version didn’t relentlessly rise from hidden panels in the floor as in NYC; it was gradually revealed through layers of cutout scrims, which was more subtle but still impressive. And instead of the Battle Scene set being a magnification of the drawing room set, Ward’s fight milieu was more fanciful, with ornate bird decorations floating in on the cymbal crashes.