Coming Home to Nutcracker by Anne Woodside Gribbins

The saying goes, “You can’t go home again.”  Or at least that’s what Thomas Wolfe titled his novel back in the 1940s. Perhaps in some cases this is true, but I’m not convinced the phrase holds so much water for me — because, what if you never really left?

As I prepare to return to the stage to perform in the first act for the 50th anniversary of American Repertory Ballet’s The Nutcracker, I find myself reflecting on all sorts of nostalgic memories about my ballet home and all that it means to me.

I was a student at Princeton Ballet School for more than 12 years. I danced in the professional company for six years and I have been on the faculty of Princeton Ballet School since 1989. My first performance as a child in theThe Nutcracker (in the role of a Mouse) was 42 years ago. I am now the Director of Marketing for McCarter Theatre Center, working in the same building where I made my stage debut in 1971. Once scampering around the stage with my mouse stuffing bouncing up and down around my big fat mouse belly, then years later showcasing a little more technique as the Dew Drop Fairy and the Snow Queen (and it seems like every role in between), I am very proud to be on the other side of the proscenium as a member of McCarter’s administration. (Pictured: Snow Queen in 1987, Photo Credit: Martha Swope)

I have kept my professional affiliation with Princeton Ballet School by continuing to teach classes and choreographing for the spring school productions nearly every season, but The Nutcracker has not been in the mix. This was completely fine with me actually, because for 20 years I either danced or was in the wings along with my mom, Gloria Woodside, who designed the costumes and worked every performance.The Nutcracker was central to my Christmas season for half of my life. My daughter Shannon, now 14 years old and who studied ballet at Princeton Ballet School until recently, had no interest in auditioning for the production, so I have enjoyed my weekends with my own family through the holiday season. Though I was never approached about working on The Nutcracker in any capacity, I didn’t offer myself up either…until now.

About a year and a half ago, when ARB’s Artistic Director Douglas Martin and I were having a casual conversation about the first act and the approaching 50thanniversary, the idea formed for me to take the part of Mrs. Silberhaus (Clara’s mother), and it was the first time I didn’t instinctively run from the thought of it. I wondered, “Am I ready for this?” Of course, at the time it was a far off  proposition, but now that it’s looming closer, it feels a little more real –—and scary. I have definite moments of near-panic and some people say to me — “Oh it’s like riding a bike” — and I think, “Yes, if the bike used to have flexibility and perfect rotation, and now is as rusty as the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz, you mean, that bike?”

I haven’t performed in The Nutcracker in a quarter century.  I haven’t been on stage performing in anything in 15 years, and for a dancer that’s about as long ago as the Pleistocene age to a geologist. In the ballet world where everything is about perfection, I wonder if my brain will pop back into the world of stagecraft to respond appropriately.

My colleagues at McCarter are so excited for me, which is very cool, sweet, and encouraging all at the same time. They say things like: “You will have a DRESSING ROOM!”  I love all of the quips and questions I get while walking down the hallway — “Are you ready for ‘THE NUTCRACKER’?” (Insert thumbs up here.)

Many people who work at McCarter have heard (or lived) the tales of the old dressing rooms in the tower. As a performer in The Nutcracker, you started up on the fifth floor and progressed down each floor as your role in the show improved. When you reached the stage-level dressing room, you were the Sugar Plum Fairy. If you were a Candy Cane in the second act, you had to leave ample time to get down the five (yes, five!) flights of stairs to the stage — then climb back up after you danced.  Of course, we can’t forget the legendary (and now defunct) fire escape circular slide, which started at the top floor of the tower and went all the way to the ground. It was filled between shows by adventurous (loudly screaming) performers who didn’t think it was at all problematic being ejected out a door at the bottom onto the back lawn of the theater. (I never went down this slide. Shocking, I know, but I am afraid of creepy things in the dark).  Some of the staff and stage crew who still work at McCarter were in the building working on The Nutcracker all those years ago, and I’m certain they went down it — multiple times.

My mother-in-law, Ethel Gribbins, who spent many years working as a wardrobe supervisor for McCarter and for Princeton Ballet, was visiting recently and we went together to see a show.  While driving into Princeton she said: “You know, going to McCarter always feels like going home.”  I made a quip about how for me it feels more like “going to work!” But I knew what she meant. 

So — to all of the Princeton Ballet School/ARB alumni out there who are considering whether or not to come back and celebrate the 50th anniversary of The Nutcrackerat your former ballet “home”, I really hope you will. There are places and people that will always feel like home to us —The Nutcracker is definitely one of those, and 50 years doesn’t come around very often. I have been so lucky to experience this particular production as a student, a professional dancer, and a teacher seeing my own students perform some of the same roles I did as a child. Returning to this production at this particular time is like a collision of all of my worlds.

McCarter, always my favorite venue as a performer, is a special place. The wardrobe room beneath the stage is exactly the same as when I was a mouse getting her stuffing crinkled and fitted, and later on, getting my tutus hooked up. Though many, many other things have changed in the building over the years, the people who work there remain the best in the business, the most passionate workers putting artists first. Coming back to perform in The Nutcracker, I look forward to the familiar voice of the legendary Pete Cook (the one and only Nutcracker stage manager I ever knew) calling the mice and soldiers to the stage. This time around, I will be able to walk down the hallway from my office to get to my dressing room (well, unless they put me back up in the tower…). I am proud, excited, daunted, humbled, and definitely a little emotional about returning to The Nutcracker stage. So yes, I feel I can go home again.  I’ve been home.  

Anne Gribbins was raised in Princeton, New Jersey. She currently works at McCarter Theatre Center, and is on the faculty of the Princeton Ballet School.  She has lived in Titusville, New Jersey for 21 years with her husband Joe, where they are raising their two children, Shannon age 14, and Joseph, age 10.