A Vision in Sugar Plum
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

It can be stimulating to see dancers aspire beyond what is easily in their grasp – as stimulating for the audience as it may be challenging for the dancer. This was demonstrated anew this past week, as Abi Stafford, a young soloist in New York City Ballet, danced the Sugar Plum Fairy in George Balanchine’s “The Nutcracker.”
Ms. Stafford is an unlikely choice to dance Sugar Plum. She is not the magisterial presence that the role customarily commands. Her body and temperament lean toward the soubrette. Nevertheless, it was at times exciting to see her strive to fill the dimensions of the role.
At moments she demonstrated real authority. She threw herself fearlessly into the supported falls in the adagio, suggesting complete involvement with the moment, the music, and the step. She also showed the lofty confidence in the outcome that instills our belief that she is a sovereign being. And she finished some of her phrases with a fullness that was persuasive.
Supported by partner Adrian Danchig-Waring, Ms. Stafford’s quick passes in the coda were perfectly Balanchinian in their speed and attack. Mr. Danchig-Waring joined NYCB in 2003, which means he is even younger than Ms. Stafford. He is a princely figure, technically rather raw but promising.
Neither Ms. Stafford nor I could do complete justice to her performance; this was one of the five-week run’s performances that were earmarked to be seen by the press, and she seemed at times quite nervous. I, unfortunately, didn’t see her entire performance; I was acclimating to the transit strike and arrived late, just as she had finished her variation.
Leading the Waltz of the Flowers, Megan Fairchild danced an uneven but interesting Dewdrop. Ms. Fairchild is also short and soubretteish, a smaller Dewdrop perhaps than ideal, but a more compact body is conducive to the speed this role requires. The onrushing flow and sweep of Ms. Fairchild’s movement was impressive.
Unfortunately, it sometimes comes at the expense of pristine execution. In the diagonal of leaps in which her working leg circles in ronds de jambs, for instance, her back leg and foot were desultory. But when she retraced the same diagonal moving upstage, in traveling arabesques, her arabesques were stylish, sustained with admirable poise.
Indeed, a challenge of this great role is the way it alternates rapid expansive movement with decorative poses the dancer must assume instantly, giving them full value in a confined time frame. Ms. Fairchild did this effortlessly throughout the Waltz, without seeming jerky or rushed.
I came back to the theater to see Wednesday evening’s performance in its entirety. The Sugar Plum Fairy was Jenny Somogyi and the Dewdrop Miranda Weese. Both women have sustained serious injuries over the years. In fact, Ms. Somogyi has just returned to the stage after an injury that sidelined her for no less than two years.
Each danced with a certain caution, yet with seasoned artistry. Ms. Semogyi was gracious in her variation, dancing with purling confidence. Her cavalier was Jonathan Stafford, who is Ms. Stafford’s brother but of a completely different phenotype. He is tall, poetic, attenuated; he danced with more technical control than Mr. Danchig-Waring had shown.
In both the matinee and evening performances, however, what should be a thrilling crescendo in the Sugar Plum Fairy adagio was needlessly sluggish. To the melody’s climactic statement, the ballerina pirouette rapidly in her cavalier’s arms, then throws her head back with what should be near bacchic flamboyance. It takes considerable trust between the dancers – as well as considerable rehearsal time – to achieve the precise musical and physical synchronization. But it is well worth the effort required.
In her Dewdrop, Ms. Weese was not afraid to highlight the old world decorativeness that makes the role so captivating. Throughout Dewdrop there are innumerable distinctive accents and details to engage the dancer’s discretionary facilities, among them head positions that might suggest the quiver of shining dewdrop glistening on the petal.
Ms. Weese made these accents playful, not too quivering. For my taste, Ms. Fairchild had put a little too much shimmy into them. Ms. Weese’s hands framed her face in a manner suggesting Cupid in “Don Quixote.” She supplied an expansive, even luxurious stretch to her arabesques. She was charming, feminine; saturating an attar of roses, she did not cloy.
It seems all New York City Ballet’s ballerinas now dance a simplified version of the downstage exit that has been thrilling since Tanaquil Le Clercq created the role in 1954. The ballerina poises in arabesque, but her arms continue thrumming as she balances on one leg. Only it’s now been dumbed down to a more or less standard stationary pose; the original exit is missed.