From being born as the eleventh child in a poor family in the slums of Havana to the world's greatest stages, acclaimed ballet dancer Carlos Acosta can truly say he’s led an extraordinary life.
He has danced with the English National Ballet, National Ballet of Cuba, The Royal Ballet, and in January will become the artistic director of the Birmingham Royal Ballet.
Yuli, a film based on his autobiography No Way Home, sold out screenings during this year's International Film Festival and will open on general release around New Zealand on 3 October.
He retired from classical dancing in 2016 but continues with contemporary dance along with his own dance company in Havana and his own dance academy. He’s also appeared in movies including Our Kind of Traitor.
‘I hated the fact that ballet took me away from my family’
His father, a truck driver, was determined his son would become a ballet dancer. Acosta says that’s the beauty of his story - that against all parental norms of that time and environment, he was encouraged to head into the arts.
“Cuba has always been a machismo society," he told Kim Hill. "I think it’s partly ignorance but the fact is that the way ballet dancers dress – with tights, with revealing all the body - the refinement of the movement, the way we dance and everything, has all this stigma attached to it.”
In fact, he wanted to become a footballer – what Acosta thought most parents would have wanted their sons to aspire to in that society.
“My father, on the contrary, wanted me to dance ballet, so that’s why it’s kind of like a very odd way of looking at this story and also he was almost like illiterate in a way, so how can he have this vision?”
It’s possible that his father had predetermined his son’s career when a silent movie he saw from a long time ago on dance stuck with him. But there was another factor in pushing his son towards dance, Acosta says.
“Ballet was at the centre of the city and it meant that I was going to be away from my environment which was quite rough at that time, and I was almost leaning towards a world of petty crime … and the other thing there was free meal, food was always a problem for us.”
While Acosta admits his father was tough on them, he says his Dad meant it in the best way possible considering their circumstances and environment.
“Everybody does the best they can with what they know, and my Dad was no exception. He was born in 1918 - very very tough time with a lot of racial issues - and he always tried to remind me what’s what and how lucky we were that we were living in an environment or a society where the arts were for free.
“I remember even in the early ‘80s that parents used to say to the teachers and encourage them if we misbehave to spank [the students] or something like that.
“But he [his father] did it for love, believe it or not, he wanted me to have a better outcome, better future, and I sort of understand why he did it, and now you’d ask me if I would do the same to my kids, I would say no obviously because we know better now. But I don’t judge him.”
But the path that Acosta’s father had chosen for him wasn’t so easy on the young boy. Acosta says he actually hated ballet during his early school years.
“I was nine years old and I was going to the school in Havana I was waking up every day at 5am, I had to wrestle with two or three buses to get to the school, on my own, while everybody else was concerned about taking their kids to school [and took them] by hand.
“And little by little, I was becoming very lonely and at the end of the whole dancing training and school and everything, again I have to go on my own and take two buses again back home, and by the time I go to sleep it was like nearly nine or 10 at night and then wake up at 5am for the next day all over again.”
When he turned 13 he was expelled from the school, but that didn’t get easier. He went on to a boarding dance school that meant he was gone for about two years away from his family – returning on the rare occasion for a weekend if he had enough money for the four-hour trip to his hometown.
“I would stay in my half-brother Pedro’s house and that was terrible because that was a house without an even floor and filled with mosquitoes and cockroaches, and then [I went on for] months and months without seeing my family.
“And that’s what ballet meant, ballet at that point meant the worst because it was lonely … and I wanted to blame it for taking me away from my house.”
Step by step: Leaping into the world of ballet
The turning point for Acosta came when he witnessed the majestic brilliance of the National Ballet of Cuba.
“I thought ‘wow, this is really great’. And then I understood, that was the turning point, I saw I could do something with it.
“The other thing is also that I always liked the applause, every time I do something, and people applauded me I really liked that very much, I thought I could do that with dance, for once I had a place and people noticed me when I did something.”
From strength to strength, Acosta conjured up a skillset that helped him graduate with maximum qualifications and a gold medal from the Cuban National Ballet School. He then ventured out to Europe, winning awards and acclaim. Eventually at the age of 18, he was invited to dance with the English National Ballet, making him the youngest ever principal dancer.
If he hadn’t gone to Europe, he says, things might’ve been slightly different.
“In order for you to have a career like mine, you have to share your artistry everywhere in the world so that people can see you, talk about you, and those are in the biggest ballet capitals – New York, Paris, Moscow, London - you have to be able to be there and share the stage with the best in the world.
“The best in the world don’t go through Cuba, normally, they go maybe France but [Cuba is] not a place that you make an international career.
“Having said that … you could be a great soloist and have a name for yourself in Cuba but not be a principal dancer. So people can follow you whenever you dance but you know that your roles will be limited.”
His career ended up being “just too big to even dream” about, he says.
“And I was able to do it by travelling around and be in the right places and being coached by the right people and dance in the best repertoire because that’s also very important, Cuba’s repertoire is very limited.”
'It is possible to be nobody and be somebody'
While in the English National Ballet and relishing in the delights of his success, he suffered a serious foot injury that forced him to return to Cuba. So Acosta says he began to enjoy all the small things in life back in Cuba, which he wasn’t able to prior due to his strict ballet routine.
“I wanted to carry on that life because I could go to bed whenever I wanted, I could wake up whenever I wanted. It was wonderful, no pain, no nothing.”
Carlos Acosta performs on July 15, 2009 at Garcia Lorca theater in Havana during a special presentation with members of the Cuban National Ballet. Photo: STR / AFP
His teacher in Cuba saw him out of shape for ballet standards and falling in a slump, she reprimanded him, and he opened his eyes once again to, what he describes as, the only trade he knows.
“[When] I was back on stage it was a whole year without dancing and that’s a long time. Psychologically it’s hard to get in your system that routine and this world of abstinence that is ballet.
“In the beginning you have a sense or an idea of how you’re supposed to look when you’re dancing and then when you see yourself in the mirror and that image doesn’t match your idea, psychologically it’s very painful, but you have to go and battle on, to try and get the image in the mirror as close as the image you remember.”
While Acosta has already written his autobiography, he says this movie tells a necessary story – not just his – and carries a universal message that could be a muse for people.
“It has a message that it is possible to be nobody and be somebody. I think these kinds of messages are important and I think it will resonate in the minds of many people, especially young artists or dancers that are filled with insecurity.
“[People] will find the movie [to be a source of] strength, because I always said that hard work prevails and there’s a lot of hard work behind this outcome.”
