It may have been one of the worst-kept secrets ever but now, at last, I can reveal that some weeks ago I was asked to take on the job of establishing and chairing a board to direct the Cultural Olympiad (all alongside the day job, too!) by the government, the mayor and the London Organising Committee of the Olympic Games, and I have accepted . Over the past few weeks I’ve been putting together a group of people who I know are going to give the Cultural Olympiad the heavy lifting it needs.
The two Sir Nicks are on board – Serota of the Tate, and Kenyon of the Barbican. Mark Thompson, BBC director-general, needed little persuasion, I’m delighted to say, as the BBC’s role is going to be crucial, as is the Arts Council’s under their chief executive Alan Davey. Jude Kelly, artistic director of the Southbank Centre and the person who more than anyone else made the Cultural Olympiad one of the reasons why London won the 2012 Games, is carrying on her commitment. Membership is completed, for now, by Munira Mirza, director of culture for mayor Boris Johnson, and Vicky Heywood, executive director of the Royal Shakespeare Company.
We will invite more allies to join us after the summer, because the task is enormous. The prize, though, is that from January 2012 London and the rest of Britain will show off as never before what this country is the best in the world at: arts and culture. We now have £16m for the big projects but in this dreadful recession, let’s admit, that’s probably as much as we’re going to get. We’ll do what we know how to do, because it is what we strive to do, day in, day out – that is, put on shows that people will remember all their lives.
And that, judging by the e-mails and accounts I’ve been receiving, is exactly what the Royal Ballet is doing in Cuba this week. Ballet is big in Cuba, really big: dance, generally, is a part of everyday life, as much a national obsession as football. The Royal Ballet’s trip there is the first time that any foreign ballet company has visited since 1980; Carlos Acosta, our Cuban guest principal artist, was not getting carried away when he said it’s the most exciting thing to have happened in the country since the revolution.
When tickets for Tuesday’s first night at the Gran Teatro de la Habana went on sale last week people queued overnight, sleeping in the street, to get them. One of our team said it was like the first day of the Harrods sale, with people pushing and shoving to make sure they got what they wanted. All the tickets went within a couple of hours. The same thing happened a few days later when the tickets went on sale for tonight’s performance – the last of the visit – of Manon at the Karl Marx Theatre. Big screens will be set up in central Havana to cope with all those who’ve failed to get in.
When the trip was being planned we all knew it was going to be exciting but I don’t think any of us, apart probably from Carlos himself, realised just what a profound impact the Royal Ballet tour would have on the country. It’s the power of art to bring two completely different cultures together. By the time you read this I should be there myself, and, despite a forecast temperature of 35°, I can’t wait.
This week has also seen the last of this year’s BP Summer Big Screen relays, Barber of Seville, relayed live – and free – to 15 different towns and cities across Britain, from Trafalgar Square in London, to Bradford and Derby, Swansea and Cardiff. The last time we did this, a few weeks back, we were basking in a heatwave, and 11,000 people crushed in to Trafalgar Square to see Renée Fleming as an outstanding Violetta in Traviata. Overall, 23,000 watched that performance on big screens up and down the country, while another 27,000 were watching in cinemas here and across the rest of Europe. We’ve never had such a large live audience for a single performance before (other than, of course, when we’re broadcast on BBC TV).
At about the same time I was taking part in a debate with Ed Vaizey, the shadow culture minister, among others, and he said the arts should not be defensive: people understood their importance. I agree, and so do at least 50,000 other people.
The relay of Barber of Seville featured one of the most exciting casts I’ve seen. And on the first night it became even more exciting, for the wrong reasons, when Joyce DiDonato, the mezzo-soprano who’s playing Rosina, slipped and fractured her ankle during the first act. It was one of those heart-in-the-mouth moments theatre people dread but she decided to carry on. In Act II there’s a line in the score – “I have a cramp in my foot” – that brought the house down. Backstage afterwards – sitting down, thank goodness – she was relentlessly upbeat and laughing. Many a lesser mortal might have given up at this point – not Joyce. And for the rest of the run, sporting a pink cast on her leg, she’s performing in a wheelchair, itself quite a feat. On her blog – yankeediva.blogspot.com – she thanks the “ridiculously brilliant ROH staff”, saying, “I had a ball.” I must confess she is my heroine.
The singer-songwriter Rufus Wainwright’s first opera – Prima Donna, the story of a fictional singer who plans a return to the stage after some years’ absence – opened at the second Manchester International Festival last weekend. This biennial festival is a remarkable success story for Manchester and its director Alex Poots. Sitting in the square outside Manchester town hall having a pre-performance drink, we talked about how they’ve found a large, new audience for the arts in the city and the surrounding area. Many of them – younger, noisier and appreciative – seemed to be at the Palace Theatre for the first night.
Conversely, Rufus himself – much taller than I’d imagined – was dressed in a long black dress coat with a silver cane and top hat. With his beard, he looked quite the Edwardian opera-goer. His partner – wearing a straw boater – explained that Rufus was dressed as Puccini. “I’ve always loved opera,” Rufus told me, “and I come to your place, too.” (He does – and his sister Martha has performed here, too.)
Finally, I confess to being just a little upset that the critics, reviewing our final opera of the season, Tosca, missed something that I would have thought worthy of a little bit of praise. They concentrated instead on Bryn Terfel, which is, I suppose, unsurprising since he is the best Scarpia of this generation, and the last-minute arrival of Angela Gheorghiu, whose beautiful Tosca captivated the audience and under whose gaze any Cavaradossi would be jelly. It was a wonderful end of season, too, for our orchestra, who are playing right at the top of their game. But what the critics missed was that on the first night, for the beginning of Act III, this fine group of musicians was joined by someone who doesn’t fit that description in any shape or form: me. On sheep bells. As Cavaradossi waits for dawn and his execution atop Castel Sant’Angelo, a shepherd boy sings down below – and I was one of his sheep. I loved it. I had been invited to take on this role by Nigel Bates, the principal percussion who, sadly for us, is emigrating to Australia.
So tonight, just before Cavaradossi is shot, think of him. You’ll hear him strike four on the chimes, the gaoler will intone “L’ora [it’s time]”, and Nigel will have played his last with us and be off down under. Good luck, Nigel; we’ll miss you and we wish you well.
Tony Hall is chief executive of the Royal Opera House
