The Nutcracker is on PBS right now and it's got me thinking about my youngest sister. When she was five or so, she spent an entire winter and spring watching the Mikhail Baryshnikov performance of The Nutcracker over and over until the plastic bobbins in the tape gave out. While the rest of us were busy trying to sneak an episode of Solid Gold or the Dukes of Hazzard (both forbidden), Laura only had eyes for Clara. We'd leave for school each morning accompanied by the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies and return to the Nutcracker Suite. She'd sit cross-legged a few feet from the TV so she had to crane her neck to see the TV. When the scary parts came on, she'd clutch her blankie a bit tighter, never blinking. I wondered sometimes if maybe her obsession was a sign of autism. . . or a future in dance. What was it that mesmerized her? The graceful dancing? The grand melodies? The flowing costumes? The dream sequences? The good vs. evil? Unfortunately, she wasn't old enough to explain herself. By summer, she was back to watching Reading Rainbow and watching the Nutcracker has never been the same.
1 comment:
As always julie, you have a way with words. Thanks for the blog. Infact i was just re-reading the nutcracker book and wishing i could watch it on tv. Wonder if blockbuster has it to rent?
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