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Thirty-six Rockettes are neatly arranged into the two levels of a double-decker tour bus that glides under the Tiffany snowflake, rolls into a wintry Central Park and then loops around to Times Square. There, the women hop off and peel away white-velvet cinched coats to reveal flirty halter dresses. Split into green and red halves, they form patterns that show off saucy shoulders and legs before reuniting for the number’s kicky finale, complete with fireworks.Consider, of course, that this is all happening on a stage.

Yet despite the high-tech wizardry of New York at Christmas—prepared for the 75th anniversary of the Radio City Christmas Spectacular—one thing is clear: What makes this sparkly addition come alive aren’t the special effects, or the big bus, but the scrupulous, adorably sassy choreography that culminates in one of the most explosive, quintessential-Rockette numbers ever created. For that, thank Linda Haberman.

“I wanted to do a New York number because the Rockettes are such a New York symbol,” the choreographer says after a recent rehearsal. “I’m always trying to push the dancing.” For her second season as the director of the Christmas Spectacular, Haberman has not only overhauled the entire show (including the dreaded Nativity scene), she’s also accomplished something even more momentous: Her Rockettes don’t just stand around like eye candy. They dance.

“We started planning the 75th anniversary two years ago,” writes Jay Marciano, president of Madison Square Garden Entertainment, in an e-mail. “We felt it was time to bring in someone with a new perspective to direct and choreograph.…It’s Linda’s artistic vision that will set the stage for the next 75 years.”

Haberman

Because the choreography in NYAC— pronounced “ny-ack” backstage—is so involved, rehearsals were moved from Radio City to the Church of St. Paul the Apostle in order to accommodate both full casts of Rockettes (80 dancers in all, including swings) at once. Two studios—nearly matching the width and depth of Radio City’s vast stage—were constructed. At one rehearsal, Haberman put the casts—arranged as if sitting in two buses—through their paces as the dancers engaged in a rapid-fire medley of picture snapping, synchronized arm waves and seated Rockette kicks. “We’re almost parked,” the choreographer assured her troops.

“This section could be worse,” dryly added Karen Keeler, one of Haberman’s assistant choreographers, scanning the room for any body part out of alignment. “Let me say that.” After the dancers mastered much of the quick, detailed movement, Haberman—as fit as any of her dancers in a black striped sweater, tights and character heels—offered advice in her usual succinct way: “It’s a ton of repetition. When it gets fast, stay in your little world. Stay calm.”