Re-visions of Sugar Plums

ll of this belongs to Tiekka Schofield. I remark at how perfectly placed everything seems.

"Oh, yeah," she says. "Actually, we have fun with Laurie Volny's stuff. She's so exacting about it, sometimes we'll come along and do this." Schofield leads me to Volny's cubicle and turns a pair of tweezers upside-down. "When she comes back in here, she won't say anything. She'll just kind of glance down and know that something's not right, and turn these tweezers back the way they were."

It's almost time for the Act Two curtain, so I head back up the elevator. Corps dancers in their yellow and green "Waltz of the Flowers" costumes have taken over the warmup area. Standing near the black curtains in richer light, their faces deep in thought, they look like figures in a Goya painting.

Dancers have been commenting all afternoon on Janie Parker's incredible opening-night Sugar Plum Fairy performance, her feet so flawlessly silent that even the stagehands were spellbound. Now an introspective Rachel Beard, today's Fairy, stands by, anxious for her show to be under way.

Suttin calls, "Places for Act Two," and the backstage routine is about to begin all over again. I linger for my favorite Nutcracker musical moment -- the delicate Sugar Plum solo. Beard's Fairy is technically masterful, and she and Arvin also dance their Grand Pas de Deux beautifully. "Mark is an incredible partner," someone comments. I glimpse Anderson, already in street clothes, watching from the other side, before I head out to the rude surprise of lingering daylight, the music still with me.

Several of the mice/snowflake girls beat me to the door. Their turn finished, they now look every bit like normal teenagers in their grunge attire -- baggy jeans and flannel shirts -- waiting for their moms to take them home.