Iciar Bollaín’s quirky docudrama wants you to fall in love with the Cuban ballet superstar and Havana, the majestically tatty city where he was born. Carlos as a child (played by newcomer Edlison Manuel Olbera Núñez) is easy to love. The boy crackles with life (he hates ballet!), and the racism that all but splits his family down the middle is shocking.
Acosta’s mother and ebullient half-sister Berta are pale-skinned Hispanics. His dad is the descendant of slaves. We see the women being encouraged by their relatives to leave Cuba for the US. That nightmarish moment never really goes away. Though Berta only features in a few more scenes, she haunts this story.
Scriptwriter Paul Laverty doesn’t romanticise either of Acosta’s parents. His mum seems chronically depressed, his dad Pedro (Santiago Alfonso) is pushy and prone to violence, if frequently tender (young Carlos likes dancing to Michael Jackson songs; it’s tempting to compare Pedro with Jackson’s famously tyrannical father, Joe). Anyway, Pedro’s conflicted relationship with Cuba is one of many rich themes. He wants Acosta to escape but never tries to do so himself. Present-day sections in which the real-life Acosta makes sense of his dad, through dance, are thrilling.
Less successful are the dramatic recreations of Acosta in his twenties. You get the feeling that Bollaín and Laverty aren’t interested in what Acosta got up to in London with the Royal Ballet, and can’t be bothered to tell us that Acosta now lives in Somerset with his English wife and three children. The film-makers’ hearts are in Havana and, yes, their enthusiasm is infectious.
Carlos Acosta - in pictures
