The event, organized by the Association for the Support of Cultural Activities (OMEPO) under the auspices of the Ministry of Culture, was the leading social-cultural event this summer in Athens. In fact it was unprecedented that private enterprise and the socialist government got so cozily together on a project of such scope and importance.
Seven thousand people jammed the Odeon to see and be seen, while the Parthenon looming above and turning blushing shades of rose, magenta and vermilion during a Son et Lumiere show, beamed down on the glittering scene with benign approval.
The seats in the lower center rows were said to be reserved for those who had donated 100,000 drachmas or more, but so this whiff of grand bourgeois methods might not overpower an occasion indorsed by a socialist government, the best tickets officially only cost 15,000 drachmas (with the difference being donated under the table). As the seats in the uppermost tiers cost only 3,000 drachmas, nobody’s tenderly held political beliefs were bruised or outraged.
People had been enjoined days earlier in pious editorials from otherwise not-so-scrupulous newspapers to make the benefit a purely cultural affair soaring above political factionalism. As this would have been an impossible achievement, it was not surprising that Mrs Papandreou, entering alone, got a rousing ovation. More surprising, perhaps, is that President and Mrs Sartzetakis were greeted with boos which a number of responsible citizens quickly hushed up. Foreigners, who were numerous in the audience, appeared puzzled by all of these responses, although they recognized nobody but the divine Melina who always wins applause. Though the Prime Minister did not attend due to more pressing engagements elsewhere, much was made in the press over the fact that he had bought a ticket, although whether he made an under-the-table donation as well is unknown.
Toute Athenes, as they say, was there. Never were miniskirts so short and so tight, nor bouffon overskirts more puffy. In some cases shoulder padding was so voluminous that the fashionable ladies so encumbered could only sit sideways. There were the usual complaints over who was sitting in front of whom and why.
There’s no doubt that over the last 20 years the junta and PASOK have pumped a lot of new blood into Athenian society and turned that dowdy old right-wing oligarchy whose ladies wore turbans, brocade suits and sensible shoes, into something a lot flashier.
Yet bad old bourgeois habits linger even in this socialist heaven. When Athens society gets together it always has to complain about something, especially if it’s cultural. Usually it’s that programs are too short, and encore after encore is demanded of sweating soloists who have been competing all evening with cooing pigeons, manic motorcyclists, dive-bombing bats and, in some instances, the entire National State Orchestra. But on this occasion the program was said to be too long and not put into the right order. If this criticism sounded impudent to level at impresario Francis Francis who seems to have had no trouble in other parts of the world assembling armadas of tall ships and organizing centenary celebrations of oversized statues, it may be explained as a minority opinion of a society which a glossy magazine writer once described as “the liveliest of any Balkan capital”.
As everyone knows, no occasion in Greece is complete unless it involves eating. So after the performance an unusually good and well-appointed buffet, hosted by Minister of Culture Melina Mercouri and Deputy Minister of National Economy Nikos Skoulas, was held in the beautifully lit Stoa of Eumenes which joins the Odeon to the ancient Theatre of Dionysus.
And then several days later, as if to prove that PASOK tells the truth and nothing but the truth and that the climate for private enterprise in Greece is as perfect as it is for nude bathing, Rostropovitch and his Washingtonians came over here underwritten by private banks and companies stumbling over each other to see who could spend the most. So two more wonderful performances were presented which Mstislav dedicated to his beloved little Melinotchka.
Now, if these constellations of stars continue dancing and making music for the Acropolis, harvesting more millions than the Mont Parnes Casino and AGREX put together, then the new Acropolis Museum is going to be bigger than the British Museum itself and there will be a gallery the size of the Duveen Room for each and every piece of what were formally known as the Elgin marbles.
