"Every year Ron lectures the Party Parents on manners, explaining that since they’d be embarrassed if their real children were caught picking their noses in public, they’d better not let it happen at the Stahlbaums’. "

Mr. Nutcracker

If the Sacramento Ballet were to perform a ballet to celebrate Ron Cunningham’s 25 years as artistic director, naturally it should be his favorite one: The Nutcracker! As a dancer or guest artist with the company since 2000, I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing and sharing in Ron’s joy surrounding his choreographic creation.  He once told me that all year, child performers and their parents know him as “Mr. Nutcracker”—a fitting title.

Ron plays Dr. Drosselmeyer, who is Clara’s godfather, the Nutcracker Prince’s uncle, and the architect of their fantastic journey. He demonstrates admirable commitment to his character. Ron patterns Dr. D.’s makeup after what he sees as his own facial peculiarities, and he sometimes teaches company warm-up with his face on. Donning a black cape he runs, lunges and lifts with gusto during the Battle and Transformation scenes. Upon exiting the stage, he looks and sounds as spent as the Sugar Plum Fairy and Cavalier after their grand pas de deux. Never complacent, he continually refines and experiments with his production.

Once, just before curtain, Ron as Dr. D. told me and another dancer as Vivandiere and Soldier Doll that he planned to try out some “new moves” during Party Scene. Normally after he winds us up, we tread militantly before spiraling out of control and pretend-shooting him. During our dance’s final moments, Soldier Doll and Vivandiere lock hands and encircle Dr. D. as he cries for help and tries to escape. That night, Ron reached high and low with even more vigor than usual, delivering a sensational performance. He lost his balance and landed on his back, feet overhead, in near perfect time with the music. As we dolls froze, having fully wound down, both of us wondered whether Ron was okay and tried desperately not to bounce from laughing at his realistic portrayal of the toy maker overtaken.

But Ron doesn’t only love to play Drosselmeyer. As he rehearses the more than 500 children who appear onstage each Nutcracker season, rarely does he miss an opportunity to teach the Party Children to skip or Fritz how to shake a gift properly to guess its contents. Ron especially enjoys delivering the English translation of Clara’s mime during the opening of Act II: “I-thought-use-my-shoe!” to distract the Mouse King. Every year Ron lectures the Party Parents on manners, explaining that since they’d be embarrassed if their real children were caught picking their noses in public, they’d better not let it happen at the Stahlbaums’.

The company members take their elder responsibilities seriously, but not at the expense of fun. As the Candy Cane soloist I so enjoyed my little Canes, who drew me pictures, wrote notes, told silly sixth-grade jokes, and dressed in matching outfits even out of costume. During an Arden Fair Mall parade, when we were expected only to walk and wave, I harnessed their enthusiasm to march, then skip, and then emboité in front attitude with me down the parade route. Fondly I watched students grow from Teeny Tiny Mice to Flowers, through many Sacramento Ballet Summer Workshops, and now into a Sugar Plum Fairy, a first-rate contemporary dancer, or a Princeton University student. I loved to see Barbara, Chandler and Sarah grow each year in their recurring roles in Prologue and in their lives outside of performing.

May Ron’s hopeful and child-centered telling of a holiday fairytale continue beyond the years he performs Drosselmeyer or greets the audience with a curtain speech. But for now: Mr. Nutcracker, put on that cape!

Emily Hite