The ballet is a staple of the winter season, telling the story of a young girl whose mysterious Christmas gift, the titular Nutcracker, whisks her on an adventure through a magical land of evil rats and dancing sugarplums. From Nov. 24 through 26, the American Repertory Ballet gave this show a home here in Princeton, New Jersey, on the McCarter Theatre’s stage.
Fall break. For most, those two words evoke images of relaxation, catching up on TV, sleeping, visiting family, leaving midterm essays until the last possible second, and sleeping some more. It is essentially a week-long nap mixed with a frantic bingeing of “Stranger Things” season two.
As a doe-eyed, inexperienced baby pre-frosh, I imagined parties at Princeton in three ways: A) The frat boy dream. Hordes of sweaty people dancing with the apparent intent of getting even sweatier. Muscle-bound econ majors doing keg stands while some poor lightweight pukes his third beer all over a pretty girl’s shoes. B) Intoxicated geniuses spewing pretentiousness. Screams of, “Oh, no, I got a stain on my new Lilly Pulitzer.” You take a shot of hundred dollar vodka for every amendment to the Constitution you can’t quote verbatim. C) Nonexistent.