Opening
Nights

Little Women

ArtsWest, 4711 California Ave. S.W., 
938-0339, artswest.org. $17–$36.50. 
7:30 p.m. Wed.–Sat., 3 p.m. Sun., plus 3 p.m. Sat., Dec. 14 & 21. Ends Dec. 29.

Little Women was a fitting title for Louisa May Alcott’s Civil War–era novel, which chronicled the lives of the March women while their father was off to war. Each of the four sisters was given ample attention. But this 2005 musical doesn’t deal in pluralities. All four sisters are still onstage, yet this adaptation is all about Jo, the rebellious sister modeled on Alcott herself.

This might frustrate fans of the bulky novel, but the show yields some pleasant rewards for those willing to accept the conventions of a Broadway musical—including an all-consuming protagonist and the substitution of expository song for character development, courtesy of the show’s creators, Allan Knee, Jason Howland, and Mindi Dickstein.

EmilyRose Frasca attacks the role of Jo with an almost ferocious energy; she’s a spark plug struggling against the confines of class and gender in proper, puritanical Concord, Massachusetts. Her outlet is storytelling, which takes the form of adventure tales—“blood-and-guts stuff”—that she shares with anyone who’ll listen. These are related in frenzied production numbers, where director Matthew Wright turns the dial a bit too high. Jo’s passion verges at times on slapstick; one half-expects steam to shoot out of her ears, or for Frasca’s regrettable red wig—unintentionally clownish—to go full-fright.

Frasca’s performance would be completely overwhelming in the three-hour show (with intermission), except that her big movements are matched with a larger-than-life singing voice, a marvel that lends her character a commanding presence. In comparison, the rest of the cast—with the exception of Patricia Haines-Ainsworth’s delightfully snooty Aunt March—is anemic and too often off-key. Next to our heroine, the other March women’s lives, loves, and losses seem rather pedestrian; but again, this Little Women is all about Jo.

Oddly, Jo’s dominance allows the other performers their best scene. After receiving a response from a New York publisher considering one of her stories, Jo relates the story of a chivalrous knight and damsel-in-distress as the cast performs it behind her. She mimes the swordfights with them and even sings along with their lines. It’s a transfixing shadow duet—the centerpiece of a fine production in which Jo, naturally, lifts everyone else. Mark Baumgarten

PNutcracker

McCaw Hall, 321 Mercer St. 
(Seattle Center), 441-2424, pnb.org. 
$25–$140. Runs near daily through Dec. 27.

When Kent Stowell and Francia Russell went to their Pacific Northwest Ballet board of directors more than 30 years ago to say that they wanted to create a new Nutcracker, and that they wanted it to be designed by Maurice Sendak, the response was mixed. It’s an exciting idea, sure, but it sounds expensive—and don’t we already have a perfectly fine Nutcracker? The board committed to going ahead, but when the bills started coming in, things got quite tense. Yet in the best tradition of fairy tales and Hollywood musicals, ticket presales were strong, the show was a hit, and PNB has been hip-deep in the Stowell/Sendak production ever since.

Theirs was a very specific vision for Nutcracker: Unlike so many productions that borrow here and there from other sources, PNB’s has a unique and distinct style, going back to the original E.T.A. Hoffmann story—as spooky as it is sweet—for a scenario that puts young heroine Clara at the cusp of adulthood. And by shifting the second act to an “Oriental” court, full of Asian, African, and Middle Eastern references, the setting has more substance than a mere Land of the Sweets.

Saturday’s opening night was a welcome return to that familiar territory. In the Act 1 party scene, Uko Gorter was like an overgrown boy as the eccentric toymaker Drosselmeier, more at home making mischief with children than chatting with adults. Later playing the Pasha, he was a tinpot tyrant, cracking his whip but thwarted when trying to dance with Clara. Benjamin Griffiths was deceptive as the Nutcracker Prince—his technique is so clear, both in the dancing and the mime, that we almost miss the virtuosic nature of his solos. As grown-up Clara, Kaori Nakamura still had a childlike zest as she plopped down with a little bounce to sit on a cushion. Lindsi Dec was a very glamorous Peacock; and, in a last-minute substitution, Margaret Mullin swooped through the speedy choreography for the Waltz of the Flowers.

Between the ballet’s lavish details and the plethora of family-oriented activities at McCaw Hall, it was already a full evening. Things got even sweeter during intermission, when we watched a couple get engaged in the main lobby. There’s no guarantee this’ll happen at every performance, but you never know. Sandra Kurtz

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