
This sucker was a bit tough since there were a couple of questions which had a couple of really good possibilities (La Bûche de Noël).
Knowledge of languages helps in this quiz!
A very intelligent canine. I've gone to court more than Michelle Bachmann, Harriet Miers, and most US Law School professors ever have. I am ghost written by my human companion. I actually live in the Second largest English speaking city at the time of the War for American Independence. These are my opinions and I don't care if you read this. I don't really want to hear from you--unless you agree with me or can offer intelligent and constructive comments. And I refuse to sell out (no ads here).
One cannot desecrate what is already filthy. The Nutcracker story has nothing to do with Our Lord Christ’s birthday at all—it’s filled with unnatural pairings of humans and dolls, as well as gratuitous violence. The original author of The Nutcracker, E. T. A. Hoffmann, was a Prussian who wrote novels with pagan, perverted, and non-Christian themes, and was influential to generations of decadent writers. Tchaikovsky, composer of the ballet version of The Nutcracker, was a Russian incestuous pedophile who lusted after his own 13-year-old nephew. Tchaikovsky eventually committed suicide to avoid having his sins publicly revealed, and is now burning in hell. Ballet itself has always been a cesspool of whores (only a loose woman would ever show her legs in public) and faggots (no real man would be caught dead dancing onstage in tights). I hope none of the readers here have their daughter in ballet classes, otherwise they may as well hand them a stripper pole and a whip. Say what you will about Islamic dictatorships, at least they don’t allow their women and homosexuals to flaunt themselves like this in public—they stone them to death.
Perhaps we should be grateful to the maggots of Slutcracker for reminding us how rotten the meat of the Nutcracker truly is.
Bourne does away with the sanitized Victorian scenario of Christmas. Bourne, often at his most brilliant at re-working traditional ballet librettos (e.g. “Swan Lake,” “Cinderella,” and “The Car Man” -- all seen in Los Angeles within recent years), delivers no less with “Nutcracker!” Instead of the cozy Victorian home, Bourne gives us a veritable Dickensian Third Reich where the ballet’s only family embodies not holiday charity but avarice and exploitation. Instead of the bourgeois domesticity of the Stahlbaums, Clara is an inmate of Dr. Dross’ Orphanage for Waifs and Strays, a kind of Dotheboys Hall run by Dr. Dross (Scott Ambler as an SS commandant Wackford Squeers) and the Matron, His Wife, (Annabelle Dalling as a nightmarish combination of Mommie Dearest Joan Crawford and Bette Davis’ Baby Jane). These symbolic inversions are only a starting point for Bourne.