Come the twilight of the year, the deathless "Nutcracker" begins its march across American stages, bearing tidings of comfort and joy.

Oh, goody.

Yet to those of us who despair of its pervading tweeness and wish ballet had something better to do at this time of year than endlessly reminisce like a sweet, whiskery auntie, it bears some bad news, too. "The Nutcracker's" stranglehold is all but squeezing ballet dry.

That warm and welcoming veneer of domestic bliss in "The Nutcracker" gives the appearance that all is just plummy in the ballet world. But ballet is beset by serious ailments that threaten its future in this country: American dancers are less likely than ever to hold the top rank in American companies. African Americans have dismal prospects of inclusion -- of all of the nation's performing arts, none is more segregated than ballet. And the companies are so cautious in their programming that they have effectively reduced an art form to a rotation of over-roasted chestnuts that no one can justifiably croon about.

The tyranny of "The Nutcracker" is emblematic of how dull and risk-averse American ballet has become.

Let's start with "The Nutcracker's" role in all this. No other ballet has been performed by more companies, danced by more dancers or seen by more Americans. This season marks the 65th anniversary of the country's first full-length production, by the San Francisco Ballet. It wasn't such a smash hit back then, but certainly over the past half-century "The Nutcracker" has become the category killer in ballet, what "The Night Before Christmas" is to American poetry -- the most known, the most quotable. Tchaikovsky's tunes seem to toot around every corner this time of year, while attending the ballet has become a secular ritual, a tinseled micro-Mecca for thousands of families.

Starting Tuesday, Washington audiences can see the version of the ballet that's credited with launching the national "Nutcracker" obsession: George Balanchine's 1954 account, originally created for the New York City Ballet. The Pennsylvania Ballet will perform its Kennedy Center premiere.

Because "The Nutcracker" can turn a profit, it can account for as much as half of a ballet company's total annual performances. Chances are, the other, non-"Nutcracker" half of a company's season relies on a couple of standards and too few new works of consequence. And most companies cannot bring in enough funding to exist without relying on "Nutcracker" sales.

This all sounds pretty Scroogish, but I'll be straight with you: While I have grown tired of "The Nutcracker," I don't hate it. I don't discount that the ballet brings great happiness to many -- even, off and on, to a critic. What I do regret is "The Nutcracker's" ubiquity, the way it stifles any other creative efforts in dance during the holiday season. Most of all, I regret its necessity as an income source.

Money problems weigh on ballet like a stone around its neck: salaries, rent, costumes, toe shoes, insurance, musicians, storage and so on. Debt is a big factor in all the conservative programming out there.

But the main problem is this: Ballet suffers from a serious lack of confidence that is only growing more and more paralyzing.

Plie it safe

There were moments throughout the 20th century when ballet was brave. When it threw bold punches at its own conventions. First among these was the Ballets Russes period, when ballet -- ballet -- lassoed the avant-garde art movement and, with works such as Michel Fokine's fashionably sexy "Scheherazade" (1910) and Leonide Massine's Cubist-inspired "Parade" (1917), made world capitals sit up and take notice. Afraid of scandal? Not these free-thinkers; Vaslav Nijinsky's rough-hewn, aggressive "Rite of Spring" famously put Paris in an uproar in 1913.

Out of Bounds A 2003 Washington Ballet production of "In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated," a 1987 work that played down the art form's beauty. (Sarah L. Vosin/The Washington Post)

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Later on William Forsythe, in works such as "Steptext" (1985) and "In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated" (1987) shattered ballet's pretty lines and spiked his works with an acid edge, and showed us that ballet wasn't only about decorum and accepted ideals of beauty.

Where are this century's provocations? Has ballet become so entwined with its "Nutcracker" image, so fearfully wedded to unthreatening offerings, that it has forgotten how eye-opening and ultimately nourishing creative destruction can be?

The last time I heard real rumblings of discomfort at the ballet around here was in 1984, at the Kennedy Center, when American Ballet Theatre premiered "Field, Chair and Mountain," by experimental modern-dance choreographer David Gordon. It involved a lot of metal folding chairs and a pastoral panoramic backdrop that unspooled as the dancers picked their way regally around the furniture. It was more quirky than brilliant, but it forced you to look at a consummate ballerina like Martine Van Hamel in a new light. For reasons I still puzzle over, this was one of her best roles; she came across as all the more witty and above-it-all surrounded by the gray and ordinary.

The 1984 premier of "Field, Chair and Mountain" at the Kennedy Center may have been the last time the local ballet audience was pushed beyond is comfort zone. (Ray Lustig/The Wasington Post)

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And it drew a few boos! Some audience members walked out. You felt you were at the center of something, at that hot spot of friction between expectation and result that meant an artist had scored an upset.

Nowadays, the shaky economics of ballet drive the field continuously toward a standardized repertoire. And so, aside from a program or two of inexpensively produced short works, most companies rely on a rotation of "Swan Lakes," "Sleeping Beauties" and "Don Quixotes," familiar full-length ballets consistently on view throughout the country. And "The Nutcracker." Could any book publisher, fashion house, automaker or, for that matter, symphony orchestra reasonably expect to exist with so little to offer?

But there are signs of some cooling on "The Nutcracker." Kennedy Center President Michael Kaiser says that "in a lot of communities I see the interest starting to wane, particularly because of costs. It's a very serious issue."

When costs go up and donors are tapped out, ticket prices rise, Kaiser says. Audiences get more choosy, less adventurous.

Now think about the dancers. If you are a ballet dancer in America, chances are you will spend a good chunk of your career cycling through various "Nutcracker" roles. Maybe you start out at a small troupe, and you want to move on to a larger one. At the audition you might find yourself competing against European or maybe Cuban dancers who have trained in well-established academies, and, coming from outside our "Nutcracker" vortex, they're experienced in various dance styles and roles. Who stands to get hired?

Eurocentric values

A 2006 survey by the service organization Dance/USA found that among the two dozen largest ballet companies in the nation, 54 percent of principal dancers were foreign-born, and 46 percent of soloists. It's a different story for entry-level corps dancers, 89 percent of whom were U.S.-born. American dancers fill out the bottom rungs, but in the premier positions their numbers don't hold up against the Russians, Japanese, Spanish, French and Cubans.

To be sure, ballet doesn't have a terribly long history here. Also, there is still a mystique to the foreign dancer. An international roster is a marketing plus.

But the outsourcing of ballet stars is a troubling trend nonetheless. We're producing an inauthentic domestic art. What's American about ballet in America? The field lacks commitment to its own dancers. Rather than groom someone unknown and untested, directors want a star now, stage-ready, tonight. One who already knows the roles, as ballet in this country rests on the standard, European-derived full-lengths.

The European repertoire returns me to the issue of diversity.

In 1968, when Arthur Mitchell decided to found Dance Theatre of Harlem as a separate-but-equal black ballet company, Mitchell had been New York City Ballet's only African American principal dancer. Today, City Ballet still has only one African American principal dancer. And compared with the rest of the field, which seldom elevates black dancers (particularly women) to the top rank, it's at the peak of racial diversity.

The absence of African Americans in ballet companies is not only a pressing equal-opportunity issue. It's also an artistic issue. What better way to demonstrate how an Old World art has been reinvigorated on these shores than by showcasing a broad range of dancers -- of all colors -- in it? Instead, ballet directors are communicating some disturbing views: American dancers in general are somewhat second-best, and African Americans in particular are not part of their vision.

But why not make an artistic statement with a mix of races, and use the spectrum of humanity deliberately, in a provocative way? Why not harness differences to evoke the America of today, or what we might become if only we had the imagination of an artist?

Balanchine once talked of seeking equal numbers of black and white dancers. Nothing came of that plan, but black choreographer Donald Byrd sees vestiges of an African American aesthetic in at least one of Balanchine's strikingly modern masterpieces.

" 'The Four Temperaments' is very black in terms of the impulse of it," says Byrd. "The thrusting hips. I always think of black girls. The feeling is very funky."

Ellicott City native Alicia Graf, 30, was one of Dance Theatre of Harlem's leading ballerinas until the company folded in 2004. Elegantly proportioned and dazzling to watch, she found no other ballet offers and joined Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. She sees diversity as fertile ground for American ballet to stake its individuality.

Keep it real

"Americans, we're very physical and athletic in our dancing, but artistically, where are we going? I think race could have a huge, positive impact on that vision," she says. "In looking for new directions and innovative ways of moving, you also have to look at innovative ideas of what your company looks like, and the different pools from where you draw your talent. I would like for artistic staffs to look beyond what they're used to. It's all very safe."

There's nothing more boring than safe, pretty art. Nothing feels less relevant. Ballet needs to think bigger. Yes, money is tight, but ballet here has gotten itself into trouble by aspiring to opera-house prestige without the more stable budgets of its European counterparts. To survive into the future, I think the average ballet company would do better to downsize, aim for excitement, stir the pot -- and drop the full-length ballets, which are better left to the few larger, richer operations. All sorts of creative possibilities might open up if "The Nutcracker" weren't needed as an anchor. Just imagine what might happen if some bomb-thrower took a chance on personnel, built a roster that looks like America and blew up the whole notion of dull, comfortable conformity.

Ballet in this country ought to demonstrate that when the art form came across the Atlantic it was transformed by the journey -- and is transforming still.

Wouldn't it be remarkable if we saw that onstage? If "Nutcracker's" dreamscape could give way to art that looks and feels real?