High Life
Loose opera-talk
Taki
And before Wyatt of Weeford and the ample member for Crawley reach for their pens, let me give you some more details about my private conversation with Menot- ti. I left Bushido, the boat that has let me down more than any other where girls are concerned, in Porto Ercole, and in the company of two friends proceeded by car to the originally Greek town of Spoleto, once inhabited by the mythical Cyclops. That is where Oliver Gilmour was conduct- ing Le Nozze di Figaro, the mainstay of Spoleto's Festival of Two Worlds.
Now as many of you know, Oliver and I are great friends, therefore I must declare an interest. But an interest has nothing to do with great conducting, and this is what Gilmour has done in Spoleto. In fact I will go a step further. It was probably the finest version I have heard, and I've heard the opera as many times as Alastair Forbes has written abusive letters to the newspapers. (In one year, that is.) For starters, 011ie got the overture right. It was written as Allegro con brio by Mozart, but through the years, self-indulgent conductors (Karl Boehm, for example) have slowed it down to as few beats as Alastair Forbes writes nice letters to newspapers in one year.
I sat in Menotti's box with Christopher Gilmour and the great choreographer Jerome Robbins. The latter was delighted by the overture and said so out loud. He and everyone else applauded long and loud at the end. A night of merriment followed to celebrate, the details of which I shall spare you.
The next day we met at the Piazza del Duomo, and had a few beers to clear our heads. Then it was time for lunch at the Palazzo del Campello, where Maestro Menotti billets himself and his family throughout the festival. I sat between Giancarlo and his son Chip and, feeling rather unmusical in their company, did perhaps take a glass of wine too many. It was just about that time when I began to make my contributions, and although I have to say it myself, they got the attention they deserved. My point was that Frederi- ca Von Stade is such a sexy CheYubino it is almost impossible to see anyone else in the role. Needless to say, Frederica was not singing in Spoleto, which meant that I hadn't enjoyed the Gilmour version. Which of course I had. So I backtracked, giving a speech about Mozart's qualities where women are concerned, his interest in their devotion as well as their deception, and finished up talking about lesbian love and how it excites me.
Menotti seemed interested but, after all, he is an extremely cultured and well- mannered man. His son came to my rescue — Oliver sat open-mouthed trying to control the damage — by bringing up the subject of money instead of sex where art is concerned, and this is where, dear readers, we came in.
And speaking of Mozart, there was a child lunching with us that may or may not be a prodigy. He was certainly good- looking, and impeccably mannered, and plays the violin. He is the son of that wonderful photographer Derry Moore, now Lord Drogheda, who has the dubious honour of being my NBF. Next week, more private conversations reported from the most expensive place in the world, and for once I ain't exaggerating.
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