Interview: How Acosta Danza is revolutionising The Nutcracker

“Regarding Tchaikovsky’s scores, which already stand out for their exceptional ability to transport us to fantasy worlds through sound, for me, the melodic and dynamic contrasts that Pepe Gavilondo added to this classic have often been even deeper and more fun.”

The Nutcracker comes with a contract. When you buy the ticket, you expect the snow, the Victorian parlour, and a Sugar Plum Fairy who looks like she’s never encountered a humidity warning in her life. It is, generally speaking, a non-negotiable agreement.

However, when The Nutcracker in Havana opens in Edinburgh tomorrow, that contract is getting – if not shredded, then distinctly renegotiated.

Speaking to The QR ahead of the company’s arrival in a decidedly frosty capital, Acosta Danza principal Paul Brando is remarkably calm about dismantling one of the most sacred texts in the ballet canon.

While the purists might clutch their pearls at the thought of infusing Tchaikovsky’s symphonic architecture with mambo and jazz, Brando’s take is refreshingly devoid of academic pretext. The new rhythms don’t just add cultural weight; they add joy.

“Regarding Tchaikovsky’s scores, which already stand out for their exceptional ability to transport us to fantasy worlds through sound, for me, the melodic and dynamic contrasts that Pepe Gavilondo added to this classic have often been even deeper and more fun.”

Paul Brando

“They awaken new sensations in me,” he says, “and different ways of feeling the music, but always respecting the classical steps.”

Audacity and the Monolith

It is a brave company that decides the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy needs more conga. Yet, this is precisely the vision of Carlos Acosta, a figure Brando describes without hesitation as “a monolith in the industry.”

**Paul Brando (Prince) in Nutcracker In Havana-Credit Tristram Kenton**

The production reimagines the classic tale not as a European fantasy, but as a Cuban reclamation. The Stahlbaum’s mansion is gone, replaced by a humble wooden shack. The Nutcracker prince is no longer a stiff-upper-lipped toy soldier, but a Mambí—a revolutionary fighter for Cuban independence. And the score? It has been handed over to composer Pepe Gavilondo, who has injected the Russian romanticism with the heat of the Caribbean: danzón, mambo, and jazz.

For the audience, it’s a feast. For the dancers, however, it is something closer to an endurance sport.

The Capacity to Withstand

Acosta Danza is renowned for a specific hybrid technique, demanding dancers snap from classical rigour to folkloric looseness in a heartbeat. It looks effortless—a seamless bleed between two worlds—but Brando is quick to strip away the glamour to reveal the graft beneath.

“It’s something that comes naturally when it comes to mixing various styles in the same piece, since I’ve had good preparation throughout this time,” Brando explains. That is to say, don’t mistake fluidity for ease. “Of course, I must emphasize that it’s not easy and can be complex at times when making changes that require a bit more rigor.”

It is not merely a matter of remembering the steps, but of surviving them. “You have to prepare your body based on what you’re going to do,” he notes. “It’s a beautiful and long journey to be able to constantly change all the time. It also demonstrates that there’s the physical and mental capacity to withstand it, always with a lot of work and discipline.”

That choice of word—withstand—is telling. It suggests that the fusion of balletic precision and Afro-Cuban soul is not just an aesthetic choice, but an athletic feat. The dancer is not just a performer, but a vessel built to endure the collision of two very different kinetic energies.

Redefining the Adagio

Nowhere is this friction between the old world and the new more palpable—or more rewarding—than in the famous Arabic Dance. In traditional productions, this is the ‘Coffee’ variation, often a slow, hypnotic adagio defined by extreme control and extension. In Havana, the temperature rises, and the relationship with the audience shifts.

“Actually, I haven’t danced the traditional version before,” Brando admits, revealing his status as part of a new generation unburdened by the ghosts of the Royal Ballet’s past. “But this version demands muscular endurance, specifically because of the arm positions.”

Yet, the payoff for that burning endurance is immediate. Brando identifies a feedback loop that simply doesn’t exist in the stiffer, more reserved versions of the classic. “I enjoy everything else a lot,” he says, “and I feel that the audience does too, since it’s a very virtuosic dance with its undulating movements, the mystery, and the sensuality it possesses.”

That word—sensuality—is key. This isn’t a sanitized, marzipan confection. It is a production rooted in the “vibrant, humble streets” of a real city, where the joy of Nochebuena (Christmas Eve) battles against scarcity.

The Outsider Takes the Lead

Brando’s rise to the role of Principal at just 21 mirrors the production’s own underdog narrative. He is candid about his non-traditional path, admitting he didn’t come up through the codified ranks that usually churn out Prince Charmings.

“It’s very exciting to get to perform a principal role, since only we know the work and dedication it takes,” he says. “Previously, those roles were performed by more experienced dancers with a classical background, something I didn’t have.”

For a young dancer, stepping into the spotlight under the gaze of Acosta—a man who has danced every major role on every major stage—could be paralyzing. Yet Brando seems to view the pressure as fuel. “I wouldn’t call it overwhelming, because we work every day to achieve those goals, but yes, it was a little tense at first because it demands a lot of responsibility on stage.”

He credits Acosta not just as a boss, but as a mentor who unlocked the role for him. “The maestro’s support and attention have always been important to me. It’s a pleasure that he shares all his experience and guides me with the wisdom he’s gained over the years. I’m always grateful for the opportunity and the trust he’s placed in me.”

Christmas Reclaimed

Beyond the technical feats and the genre-bending score, there is a poignant historical subtext to The Nutcracker in Havana. For decades, Christmas was effectively erased from the Cuban calendar, banned by the state until the late 1990s. Acosta’s production is an act of memory-making, gifting his culture the festive mythology it was denied.

“The maestro’s support and attention have always been important to me. It’s a pleasure that he shares all his experience and guides me with the wisdom he’s gained over the years. I’m always grateful for the opportunity and the trust he’s placed in me.”

When asked if the on-stage festivities—the family gathering, the food, the chaos—match his own experiences, Brando is definitive. “This show is a vivid example of what Christmas celebrations are like in Cuba. A whole family gathered together, celebrating in a cozy atmosphere. Despite any difficulties that may exist, these dates are always a time of great joy for Cubans.”

It is this authenticity that prevents the show from slipping into pastiche. The joy isn’t performed; it’s remembered.

Surviving the Scottish Chill

The tour arrives in Edinburgh at the start of February, a time when the city is beautiful but famously unforgiving to anyone without antifreeze in their veins. For a company bringing “Havana Heat,” the Scottish winter poses a very practical threat to their instruments—their bodies.

Brando, however, is taking no chances. The magic may be in the mambo, but the reality is in the warm-up gear.

“Coming from a tropical country with warm temperatures all year round, it’s difficult to adapt to the cold, but I always take care of my body and keep it well-wrapped up, as it’s my instrument of work.”

Featured Image: Paul Brando (Prince), Adira Díaz (Clara) in Nutcracker In Havana-Credit Tristram Kenton