Carlos Acosta dances the
pas de deux for Agon.

It is often said that being admitted into the Royal Opera House’s inner sanctum is like being on an ocean liner from the golden age of steam.

This afternoon I am there to meet Carlos Acosta, the world’s foremost classical ballet dancer, so it certainly feels this way. Buzzed in through the stage door entrance and into a cosy, old-fashioned reception area, I am led into a labyrinth of narrow corridors and endless double doors. Aside from the rehearsal calls for performers and production staff reverberating over the PA system, there is a hushed, almost reverential air to the place.

Once inside, time seems to slow and real life is left behind. It takes an eternity to make our way to the office where I am to interview Carlos Acosta, negotiating the lifts and complex colour-coded floor levels.

It is as if the building itself is a mirror to the intricacies and traditions that drive classical ballet.

The Cuban superstar literally hobbles in and wearily sits himself down. He has only recently had surgery on his foot to repair floating bones and is astonished at how quickly his body is recovering. ‘I’m still in pain’, he says matter-of-factly. ‘But surgery and injuries are a normal aspect of dance.’ He appear slighter than the muscular form that gracefully dominates the stage in his performances and lean in the way only athletes can be, but the dynamic, alpha-male presence that Acosta is so famous for, is definitely there.

‘Our body is our instrument,’ he says, referring to dancers. ‘But anything can affect your work and it’s very hard to be 100% all of the time.’ With humility, which I later come to realise is typical of Acosta, he sounds like any other sportsperson sizing up his performance. However, this is no average athlete, and the ‘body’ he refers to, no ordinary instrument. Wowing audiences ever since he first emerged onto the international ballet scene as a teenager, Acosta has taken what is arguably one of the last bastions of high art by storm, lending it something real and very human. He is routinely compared with the great classical stars Nureyev and Baryshnikov, and is often described as one of the most influential dancers of our time.

His story is all the more compelling when you learn of his impoverished upbringing in the back streets of Havana, his ambitions to be a footballer and his father’s insistence that he study ballet to keep him from fraternising with street gangs. Artistic expression For an artist so universally lauded throughout his career, there is no trace of arrogance or sense of entitlement about him. He is relaxed, friendly and open, displaying a wry sense of humour throughout the interview. He seems happy just to chat while on a break from his intense rehearsals for the one-act ballet Winter Dreams.

We begin with Acosta’s latest undertaking outside of dance. After three years in the making, he has just completed his first novel. A story about the history of Cuba from the time of slavery to the current day, it is his first work of fiction, and follows his 2007 autobiography No Way Home.

‘I’m finished and I’m proud of it, but I never want to write another word again. My hair is falling out because of it!’ he jokes. ‘I enjoyed the process, but writing drains you. I was doing it between breaks in dance rehearsals and production meetings, so it was tiring. But I am trained to finish what I start. We’ll see if people like it.’

Indeed, it’s hard to imagine where Acosta finds the time for all his numerous projects, from writing and staging his own ballets (the highly acclaimed and successful Tocororo), to appearing in the feature film New York, I Love You last year with Natalie Portman, as well as a packed schedule of international guest appearances and tours.

Despite turning 37 this year, a time when a dancer might traditionally contemplate retirement, Acosta is doing nothing of the sort. ‘I need challenges otherwise I get bored,’ he says, leaning back into his chair, his strong, commanding physique draped in tracksuit pants and a sweatshirt.

One of these new challenges came in the guise of Premieres, an experimental, mixed media Sadler's Wells collaboration blending dance and film, staged at the London Coliseum over the summer. I ask him if this kind of production is the future of dance.

‘It’s just one aspect of dance,’ he replies, his English shot through with a rich Cuban lilt, ‘and an idea that hasn’t been explored much before, so it was interesting to see the results. Sometimes I succeed in producing something worth seeing and sometimes I don’t,’ says Acosta, perhaps referring to the production’s mixed reviews. ‘But I’m not afraid to explore.’

He goes on, ‘An artist should never be afraid to explore. In exploring lies the search for a new world waiting to be discovered, or a new path that hasn’t been taken before. This is how art and dance evolve.’

Listening to Acosta talk freely about himself and his art is an almost poetic experience, partly because he avoids convenient, trite sound-bites and also, I suspect, because there is no PR present to curb his musings. Something that is both surprising and refreshing.

Inner drive
Throughout his career, Acosta has danced all the big classical roles – Giselle’s Albrecht, Siegfried in Swan Lake, the demanding Spartacus – bringing to them his signature strength and physicality. But he is brutally honest about how his familiarity with the roles at this stage in his career has its limitations artistically.

Carlos Acosta as Prince Rudolph in Mayerling.

‘I have to ask how I can deliver what I know so well in a new and interesting way. I need to constantly find other challenges outside of these classical roles to help me continue with my career. If the only thing I have to look forward to is the classics, that would be very boring.’

Acosta’s tireless drive and pursuit of achievement is tangible. Beneath his disarmingly charming and easy-going manner, is a steely resolve. It is visible in his eyes when he talks, an unwavering focus. This is a man who never stops. He goes on to reveal that part of this inner drive also comes from disaffection in his life.

‘I find if I have a lot of time on my hands, then thoughts get into my mind. I don’t like to think. I begin thinking and I get depressed.’ I ask him if his well-documented home-sickness for Cuba is at the root of this. He nods sadly, ‘I miss Cuba.

here is a guilt at not being there. But as long as I have new doors opening for me, then it’s okay.’ Acosta accepts that his phenomenal success has come at a cost.

A faraway look comes into his eyes, ‘Cuba is a long way away. It’s not like travelling three hours to Spain. I have had all this wonderful success, but have not had my family around me to share in it.’ Our man in Havana In 1991, aged only 18, Acosta was invited to join the English National Ballet as a principal by its then director Ivan Nagy. It was the start of a career working with major ballet companies in Europe and America, but it also marked the start of prolonged periods away from his home and family in Havana. In the 1990s, it was extremely difficult to travel to and from the socialist island nation. Now, he feels, it is more open and, as an international dance star, he has the freedom to go back and forth. He tells me about his big house in Cuba and his future plans to live there with his English girlfriend.

‘Eventually, I want to help the dance field in Cuba and be involved in everything that is happening there,’ he explains. ‘Cuba has been disconnected from the rest of the world for a long time now.’

Dance is an enormous part of Cuban life, and the huge success of ballet as an art form in Cuba is deeply entwined with the revolution itself. Since the political events of 1959, ballet has been a significant and accessible part of Cuba’s cultural heritage. Much of this success is attributed to the work of Cuban national treasure and the Godmother of Cuban ballet, Alicia Alonso.

Director of the Cuban National Ballet since its official founding in 1960, Alonso set up the company and its training programme with considerable financial support from Fidel Castro’s new political regime. To this day, the Cuban school of dance is universally recognised throughout the world as exceptional.

As Acosta explains, ‘The Government was very involved in ballet from the beginning and gave it the seal of approval. It formed the schools. Ballet was always on TV. Fidel Castro himself was always attending ballets.

Everybody in Cuba embraced the idea. After 50 years of this, what you have is a country very well educated in ballet and the arts.’ For the time being, Acosta lives happily with his girlfriend in north London and hopes to start a family here in the UK in the near future.

However, his yearning for Cuba seems to inform much of what he does and he envisages a life of commuting back and forth between the two countries.

‘I have plans to go back to Cuba but also to stay connected with the UK. It’s a great balance for my life to be in both countries.’ He has nothing but appreciation for his adopted home of the past 12 years.

‘Britain, to me, is the best country in the world,’ he says smiling. ‘London is a great city. The British embrace uniqueness, ethnicity and most of all, talent.

In London, if you are talented, it doesn’t matter where you come from. If you prove yourself, the sky’s the limit. The Royal Ballet is proof of this.’

In control
A permanent member of the Royal Ballet in Covent Garden since 1998, Acosta is currently principal guest dancer with the company. When I ask him what his favourite dance role has been to date, he says all of them, and reveals a more spirited and playful side with just a dash of Latin American machismo. He mentions Romeo and Juliet: ‘Romeo is very demanding, and a role that doesn’t come naturally to me.

I am powerful and big. I am Apollo and Spartacus. I’m not boyish. Other people can project that boyishness naturally, but you see my thighs?’ he says with a puckish grin, pointing to his celebrated physique.

‘I am really powerful. When I walk on stage you see someone in control. To try to inhabit those kinds of roles – therein lies my challenge.’ If Acosta is made for these kind of macho, superhero roles such as Apollo and Spartacus, then who better to promote ballet as a vocation to young people, especially boys? It’s something he is passionate about. ‘In order to train the kids, you need to educate the parents about ballet and dance. There is a preconception around ballet and the sexuality of a male dancer. But dance and ballet is a wonderful world and will not alter the psychology of a child,’ says Acosta, referring to the fact that sexuality has nothing to do with dance.

Carlos Acosta rehearses with
Marianela Nunez for Winter Dreams.

The hard work, athleticism and discipline required to become a worldclass dancer are well-known, but where does he find his inspiration? ‘What inspires me most is my audience. It’s the people who come to my shows again and again. Their recognition of what I am producing really helps me.’ Acosta has a huge following and fan base, with his name alone on a billing selling out shows.

‘I can get inspiration from anything; a book or a painting,’ he explains. ‘The city also really inspires me, as there is so much good art out there. I want to be able to share in that elite. It inspires me to be the greatest I can be.’Carlos Acosta glances at his watch and realises he is late for his rehearsal.

He gracefully apologises for his outfit and hobbles off again for more hours of rehearsals and the pursuit of perfection – a true danseur noble.