A trip to Ballet's Austin's "The Nutcracker" can ease the burden of holiday shopping stress. Instead of the incessant department store echo of "Sugar Plum" and "Waltz of the Flowers," visions of Margot Brown's luscious Sugar Plum Fairy and the company apprentices' simple breeze through "Waltz of the Flowers" will spring to mind. These two scenes brought lovely closure to the annual holiday ballet Friday at Bass Concert Hall.

Dressed in a deep crimson tutu, Brown conjured images of icing a red velvet cake, her dancing creamy and delicious. Outside the final variation, choreographer and artistic director Stephen Mills has created a "Nutcracker" fashioned with more contemporary movements, leaning torsos and complicated arms than the Russian ballet's traditional classicism, which generally honors the vertical. At times, the mix of contemporary and classical, for which Ballet Austin is known, fit awkwardly with Tchaikovsky's score, flattening climaxes. But it often breathed life into the ballet.

The choreography worked well in the mysterious, tension-filled Arabian, danced Friday by Ashley Lynn and Paul Michael Bloodgood. The duet climaxed as the two left the stage, bodies and arms ingeniously snaking through and against each other. In another memorable performance, Jamie Lynn Witts clipped through the quick French variation, partnered by Reginald Harris. Powerful technique, marked by the ability to balance midturn en pointe, made Allisyn Paino's party scene Dresden Doll a success, though she led the Flowers stiffly.

Much of Austin danced Friday, the company's school filling the ranks of mice, angels and party guests, surrounding Michelle Nicole Alexander, a sprightly Clara. Austin Lyric Opera director Richard Buckley hammed as that night's guest Mother Ginger, flanked by adorable clowns. The Austin Symphony Orchestra, led by Jeff Eckstein, accompanied the ballet quite ably, though a bit slowly at times.

(7:30 p.m. Friday-Saturday, Tuesday-Wednesday and Dec. 22; 2 p.m. Saturday, Sunday and Dec. 23. Bass Concert Hall, University of Texas, 23rd Street and Robert Dedman Drive. $17-$75. 469-SHOW, www.balletaustin.org.)
— Clare Croft

Indie pop

AMERICAN ANALOG SET LANDS AT LAST

You have to admit, American Analog Set deserves credit for staying the course. Despite near-constant financial hardship, the band has released six albums of pillow-soft indie pop, culminating in 2005's "Set Free." Sunday Night as the Parish saw the Austin trio overcoming another trial: the rigors of a globe-spanning, three-month tour.

The final show was a victory lap, especially in front of a hometown crowd. Though the band has dispersed nationally, complicating the touring and recording process, they seemed happy, at ease and at home in Austin. They filtered onstage from their places in the audience, hushing the robust crowd that had grown raucous during Chris Brokaw's seated singer/songwriter Americana.

What followed pleased everyone who'd loved any stretch of the band's decade-spanning career. Andrew Kenny's wispy, lovelorn vocals rested lightly on Lee Gillespie's melodic bass lines and the energetic Sean Ripple's Vibraphone tones. Though drummer Mark Smith was mostly confined to basic timekeeping duties, his restraint allowed the slow, loping guitar lines to unfurl in peace.

Though their lullaby sound is hardly tailored for a night at the club, the band kept chatterers at bay, due in large part to Ripple. The man plays the vibraphone with passion and shakes a maraca with real conviction. Rarely do auxiliary instrumentalists seize the spotlight, but Ripple outshone the rest of the shoe-gazing crew.

Considering the difficulties of gathering a band from across the country, this might be the last time we'll see American Analog Set with this lineup. If so, it provided a fitting farewell.
— Bryan Berge

Comedy

ONE ELF TO BE THANKFUL FOR

Whoever wrote the Book of Genesis got it all wrong. On the seventh day, God didn't rest; she created Lee Eddy. Then she looked at what she had created, and, behold, Lee Eddy was very good.

Indeed, Lee Eddy, who is waging an all-out assault on audiences' self-control in "The Santaland Diaries," is divine. Playing a cranky New Yorker making rent as an elf named Crumpet in Macy's Santaland, Eddy becomes the third actor to fill the role in Austin. In doing so, she also restores a much-needed sense of outrageousness to the piece.

"Diaries," a holiday tradition marking its eighth year in town, is an amplified monologue based on the David Sedaris essay of the same name. Sedaris, though renowned for his witty prose, is not known for his compassion or political correctness. Eddy taps into the author's delightfully misanthropic motivations without resorting to a cheap impersonation. Instead, she uses her considerable talent for improvisation to keep the audience guessing and her singing co-star, the always-enjoyable Meredith McCall, laughing inappropriately.

Last year, actor Rob Williams succeeded original star Martin Burke as Crumpet. Williams was set to return until he accepted a television job in Los Angeles (in fact, Williams' image remains on some of the show's promotional materials). Where Williams bordered on being too sweet, Eddy teeters on the edge of offensiveness. Like Sedaris, though, she can employ a simple turn of phrase to bring an audience from tepid hesitation to unwavering devotion.

Case in point: Eddy's first act personal monologue titled "Vanessa Huxtable," in which the actress recounts the Halloween she donned blackface and went trick-or-treating as her favorite character on "The Cosby Show." The subject matter is provocative enough, but the real payoff comes when a picture of the artificially ebony Eddy, a preteen in the photo, flashes on a screen.

The holidays are a good time to reflect on the gifts of the previous year. At Christmas dinner in a couple of weeks, I plan to include Lee Eddy on the list of things for which I'm grateful. Catch "Diaries" before it closes, and you'll do the same.

("Santaland Diaries" continues 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays through January 8. Santa's Workshop, 1510 Toomey Road, $28, 476-0541, www.zachscott.com.)
— Tommy O'Malley

Choral music

A WARM, INVITING BLEND WITH CONSPIRARE

VICTORIA — The popular choral program, "Christmas at the Carillon," produced annually by Craig Hella Johnson and Conspirare, has recently expanded to include other venues in addition to the original West Austin stone chapel. The opening performance of this year's program was presented by the Victoria Bach Festival, located some 125 miles to the south of Austin, at St. Mary's Catholic Church.

The nave probably dates from the early 20th century, with elaborate artwork and lots of pillars to mess up the sight lines. Surfaces are mostly wood with a close-cut carpet on the floor and a high, arched ceiling, so it isn't reverberant like a cathedral, but music reaches the ear cleanly and easily.

Whatever I anticipated from these artists in terms of blend, purity of tone or a nicely sustained phrase was considerably surpassed by what they accomplished after an initial 15 minutes or so of getting in musical gear. Johnson's program (little of which, I was told, is repeated year to year) assembled what at first seemed strange juxtapositions that made sense in the hearing, with styles ranging from Burt Bacharach and Sting and Al Green's "Love God" to Phillip Bliss' exquisite hymn, "It Is Well with My Soul," to a handful of familiar carols to a sublime Mendelssohn "Sanctus" in German. Frequent guest soloist at these concerts Cynthia Clawson sounded tentative and careful until she cut loose, gospel-style, in "Love God." It was worth the wait.

The crowning glory, however, was the way that Johnson in his choice of selections and how he combined them tied together 95 minutes of music with a single thread of thought culminating in an understated glow of fulfillment and peace. I think I caught just enough of that glow to keep me calm until next year's program.
— David Mead

Musical revue

'WHEN PIGS FLY' IS AN OINKER

Arts on Real's mounting of "Howard Crabtree's When Pigs Fly" comes across as an inside joke that even the insiders might not find amusing. The campy plot involving a gay man who dreams of Broadway stardom bubbles over with musical-theater allusions designed to delight knowledgeable audiences. Perhaps in a more coherent production, the show would succeed in this aim. However, as unevenly assembled by director Blake Yelavich, this "Pig" remains earthbound, snout-deep in sludge.

Here's the thing about Blake Yelavich. He's a director who, when focused, produces great work. Just this summer, Yelavich scored a major success with his stellar presentation of the second-rate musical "Bat Boy." Moreover, Yelavich generally casts the right people. That said, when Yelavich isn't focused, the results can be painful. We're talking Ben-Affleck-in-a-dramatic-role painful. Sloppy tech and underprepared actors are two common characteristics of what I'll refer to as "Bad Yelavich."

"Pigs" unquestionably qualifies as Bad Yelavich. The musical revue begins when actor Kirk Addison's Howard Crabtree announces his dream of being a Broadway headliner. Upon hearing this, Crabtree's school guidance counselor — embodied by actor Doug Lebelle with equal parts Margaret Hamilton and Dana Carvey — tells the aspiring divo that his dream will come true ... when pigs fly.

Though several members of the cast seemed uneasy with their respective solos, the group numbers at least offered some excitement. The Act 1 finale, a display of patriotism, proved to be particularly annoying — not because it was bad, but because it demonstrated the material's sorely unrealized potential. Similarly, Nathan Brainard — who was easily the best vocalist — and Aicardo Rivera's tight harmonies in the jumpy "Light in the Loafers" gave the audience a fleeting taste of Good Yelavich.

("When Pigs Fly" continues 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, through January. Arts on Real, 2826 Real Street. $20. 472-ARTS. www.artsonreal.com.)
— Tommy O'Malley

Theater

THIS 'IDIOT' IS JUST ABSURD

Absurdism is the province of audacious youngsters. Austin playwright Kirk Lynn must have been a particularly audacious young man 10 years ago when he wrote "Pale Idiot," the inaugural show for the Rude Mechanicals, now revived at the Off Center in an anniversary production. It closely follows the peculiar language of postwar European absurdism, as if filtered through an American graduate student intoxicated with logic puzzles.

An outcast makes speeches on a dim stage. She/he sings, recounts folk tales, sleeps outdoors and attracts the disapprobation of the townspeople. Four of the solid citizens — oh, the bourgeoisie! — harass the outcast, while quibbling with each other, until a terror-invoking health inspector arrives to test them for exposure to idiocy.

Imagine Nikolai Gogol slapping Eugene Ionesco while poking Salman Rushdie in the eye.

Director Michael Mergen keeps the action simply absurd on a minimal setting backed by painted mountains. While the entire cast meshed well, three energetic women kept the action most lively. Jodi Jinx played a fiesty maid (a nod to Genet?) with scrunched-up features and a cartoonish voice. Heather Hanna's health inspector was a part posing ringmaster, part barking businesswoman, part hectoring schoolteacher. Adrienne Mishler's declamations as the protagonist left me baffled at first, but made perfect sense by the play's end, which, in true absurdist fashion, is the beginning of another play.

A historian looking back on Austin theater in the late 20th and early 21st centuries might note that John Walch's breakthrough play was the Beckettian "Craving Gravy," and his colleague Lynn's was the Ionesco-like "Pale Idiot." One could suggest that Austin's first great play writing period depended on a reverential rebirth of a midcentury European dramaturgical style.

("Pale Idiot" continues 8 p.m. Thursday-Saturday. The Off Center, 2211-A Hidalgo St. $10-$12 (pay-what-you-wish Thursdays and Sundays). 476-7833, www.rudemechs.com.)
— Michael Barnes