Extravagance and familiarity collide in the return of an old favourite

DANCE
The Nutcracker ★★★★
The Australian Ballet, Ian Potter State Theatre, Arts Centre Melbourne, until October 31

The State Theatre has reopened after 2½ years of renovations, and Arts Centre Melbourne is keen to reassure audiences that its familiar character survives. The Australian Ballet has taken the hint, returning home with Peter Wright’s The Nutcracker, created for Birmingham Royal Ballet in 1990: an old favourite offering reassurance on a suitably extravagant scale.

John F. Macfarlane’s gigantic, dreamy designs seem almost to have grown out of the theatre. The Stahlbaums’ drawing room, swathed in dark red curtains, extends the auditorium’s crimson plush into the family Christmas party. With festive decorations glistering like seams of emerald in the shadows, the whole experience feels deliciously subterranean: a theatre and a household tucked into the same deep burrow. We’re all here underground together.

Yuumi Yamada supplies the youthful enthusiasm this cosy fantasy needs. Her Clara, a ballet student dreaming herself into a ballerina, is eager, unguarded and winsomely adolescent, and her delight in everything has an attractive freedom. Jarryd Madden’s fatherly Drosselmeyer offers a steadying presence.

The finest enchantment in this version remains Wright’s reimagined version of the Dance of the Snowflakes at the end of the first act, led here by Isobelle Dashwood’s graceful Snow Fairy.

On Saturday night, the second act sometimes felt rushed. The national dances were briskly dispatched, and the Waltz of the Flowers grew a little unruly, the ensemble’s lines scattering beneath Macfarlane’s overhead tangle of streamers. Intentional or otherwise, the visual rhyme was actually quite enjoyable: the flowers and their consorts seemed to have caught the delirium of the decoration. But the entrance of Sharni Spencer’s queenly Sugar Plum Fairy soon restored order.

The theatre itself still smells new. The seats are a considerable improvement, although the space between rows feels even more miserly than before. The additional aisles do, however, offer more accessibility. The gridlock in the stalls after the curtain comes down is now, I hope, a thing of the past. The acoustics require a more cautious verdict after one visit, but, still, Orchestra Victoria – led by Jonathan Lo – sounded very good to me, with a notably crisp brass section.

Familiarity has its attractions and there is still plenty in this production – such as the battle beneath the Christmas tree – that impresses. On the other hand, after nearly two decades and five seasons in The Australian Ballet’s repertoire, this Nutcracker is starting to feel a little old-fashioned. The building has had its renovation – now for the ballet?
Reviewed by Andrew Fuhrmann

MUSIC
Louis Tomlinson ★★★★
John Cain Arena, October 20

The screams that greet Louis Tomlinson give me a contact high. Die-hard fans have legged it to the barrier and thrust stage. The word “Lemonade” flashes on-screen, towering over Tomlinson and his five-piece band. He cuts an amiable, Gallagher-type figure in a puffy red jacket and jeans. Until he’s briefly engulfed in a confetti explosion.

Music videos are composed live, faces projected dystopia-large with film effects, high-contrast overlays or psychedelic sunflowers, with colour-saturated stage lights and even a synth-laser show for Broken Bones.

It’s a leap from the opening act, Rum Jungle, the kind of Aussie indie group you play driving to the beach on P-plates with your mates.

Tomlinson gets somewhat swallowed in the production. The mixing does no favours, his piping, Arctic Monkeys-style vocals no match for thundering drums in songs like The Spark. He’s often lost in backing harmonies and the word-faithful crowd, unless it’s the pared-back cover of the Foo Fighters’ My Hero.

But Tomlinson’s impeccable band shines. Oozing rock, they unify eclectic leaps from funk pop and acoustic ballads to nostalgic indie/Britpop like the Oasis-esque Saturdays and Franz Ferdinand-style dance riffs in Out of my System. Keyboard skips between plinking piano and glimmering synth as the guitarists and bassist pace like tigers to tumbling, chest-shaking beats and rip blistering solos.

Tomlinson performs a pop persona perfectly. Gracious and grateful. Hand on heart, pointing to swooning fans. His grinning, Yorkshire-accented commentary is lightly peppered with profanities: “Loud as you fooken’ can!”

In return, the One Direction star is utterly adored. For One Direction’s Night Changes, a sea of phones rise, recording intently. Tomlinson’s grim-faced guards have to pull him back from the barrier when ladies get grabby in the encore. I only wonder if he regretted the jacket in the fervent, feminine body heat filling John Cain Arena.
Reviewed by Kosa Monteith

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