In the Land of Loki

In 1954, George Balanchine created a “Nutcracker” that was based on the classical Mariinsky production he danced in his childhood, utilizing the neoclassical style he honed in NYC. His version has become so renowned that in 1993, his name and the trademark symbol have been added to the title (even on the merch). But what does that branding mean, exactly? Does it encompass only Balanchine’s steps? What of costumes, style, scenery, and tempi? I recently crossed the Atlantic to see what Balanchine’s “Nutcracker” looks like in translation. At the beautiful Royal Theater in Copenhagen, the Royal Danish Ballet has been performing “George Balanchine’s Nøddeknækkeren” since 2011. Though the RDB is the only company outside of the US to present “George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker®,” the Danes have more kinship with Balanchine and the New York City Ballet than many of the seven domestic troupes (and one school) who annually mount the production.

Performance

Royal Danish Ballet: “Nutcracker” by George Balanchine

Place

Royal Theater, Copenhagen, Denmark, December 5, 2025

Words

Faye Arthurs

Jonathan Chmelensky as Drosselmeier with dancers of the Royal Danish Ballet in “George Balanchine’s Nøddeknækkeren.” Photograph by Henrik Stenberg

Former longtime NYCB principal dancer Nikolaj Hübbe brought the Balanchine “Nut” to Denmark a few years after becoming the RDB’s artistic director in 2008. But there has been a steady exchange of personnel between the RDB and the NYCB over the years, starting long before the creation of City Ballet, when Balanchine served as a guest ballet master with the RDB from August 1930 until January 1931. Balanchine drafted his successor, Peter Martins, from the RDB. And current NYCB Artist in Residence, the choreographer Alexei Ratmansky, was also a principal dancer with the RDB.

There is a more intrinsic, muscular connection too, as Balanchine hired the great Danish teacher Stanley Williams to teach for the School of American Ballet in 1964, where Williams’s rigorous yet serene classes shaped the lines of several generations of dancers—including those of Amy Watson, the current artistic director (and former longtime principal) of the RDB. And ballet master Jared Angle, himself a former Williams student and NYCB principal, has been coaching the “Nutcracker” grand pas de deux in Denmark for three years now.

Beyond the administrations of both troupes, more dancer swapping—mostly men in the westward direction, interestingly—has occurred. The Danes Adam Lüders and Ib Andersen were, alongside Martins, famed Balanchine muses. And Nilas Martins and Ask La Cour were NYCB principals in the era after Balanchine’s death. Current RDB principal Ryan Tomash is guesting as a soloist with the NYCB this year. In the “Nøddeknækkeren” performance I saw, the Cavalier was Philip Duclos—with whom I danced many a party scene in NY when he was an SAB student. The Dewdrop, Holly Dorger, is also an SAB alum.

The Danes’ Bournonville style, so grounded in leg strength, plays well with the athletic Balanchine aesthetic, echoing how easily the Danish citizens slip in and out of English in every shop and restaurant. But there is a frankness to the Danes’ dancing that sometimes prevented them from getting to the heart of Balanchine’s ethos (the daring to be off-balance, to eat up space, to push limits). Their politeness often kept them in a complacently pretty zone.

Ludwig af Rosenborg and Johan Olhoff in “George Balanchine’s Nøddeknækkeren.” Photograph by Henrik Stenberg

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.

Afonso Coelho and Ditte Baltzer in “George Balanchine’s Nøddeknækkeren.” Photograph by Henrik Stenberg

The mice were more whimsical too, and fabulous because of it. Unlike the uniform fat suits at City Ballet, the Danish mice were anthropomorphic and expressive. They were also involved in the set change, so it felt like a home robbery as they carried off furniture in their ragged overcoats and suspenders. And Jimmy Coleman’s Mouse King interpretation was nuanced and hilarious (later in the show he was a wonderful Mother Ginger as well). He swaggered on in his leather trench, then twitchily expired with perfect comedic timing. And I laughed out loud at the mouse who trailed behind and mimed seppuku as his peers carried the Mouse King’s body offstage.

The Danes’ storytelling chops were superb, illuminating every section, but especially the party scene. The parents were engaged in their own world-building the entire time. And the children, who appeared older (or at least much taller) than the ones in NYC, were also fully invested and imaginative. The hobby horse segment was clear and exciting, and they were all dramatically responsive to the life-sized dolls. I liked how the children were not divided into attackers and baby doll rockers by gender too. The staging was sensitive and realistic, making it feel simultaneously modern and timeless.

For once, the grandparents acted convincingly elderly. Yet curiously, the Drosselmeier read as way younger than I’d ever seen before. With his sky-high bouffant and bright green suit, Jón Axel Fransson was like a Hunger Games leprechaun or the Riddler, with a touch of rockstar à la Prince. Even beyond the Balanchine version, “Nutcrackers” generally feature a visual link between Drosselmeier and the Nutcracker doll he introduces to the plot. At a recent City Ballet show, Adam Hendrickson stressed the connection by opening and closing his mouth to mirror the doll while he made his midnight repairs. Balanchine himself used to dance the part, adding layers of meaning to Drosselmeier’s role as the architect of the onstage machinations. The RDB’s youthful prankster Dross was, to my mind, the biggest and riskiest change, yet I admired how he symbolized the many legends of impish sorcery in the land of Loki.

Faye Arthurs

Faye Arthurs is a former ballet dancer with New York City Ballet. She chronicled her time as a professional dancer in her blog Thoughts from the Paint. She graduated summa cum laude with a B.A. in English from Fordham University. She lives in Brooklyn with her partner and their sons.

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