Everyone calls him “Walter.” His full name is Walter Veltroni, the mayor of Rome and one of Europe's most popular politicians. The former Communist journalist was re-elected last year with 63 per cent of the vote and hopes his reputation as a hand-pumping, baby-kissing “Signor Nice” will sweep him into the prime minister's office.
Still, Romans will argue for hours whether their city has become a better place since he took over in 2001. The denouncers complain about the potholed, garbage-ridden streets, out-of-control tourism, and the growing army of the homeless. The supporters might agree, but they also argue their man has ended Rome's reputation as a cultural backwater. And that's most apparent at night.
After dark – when the heat relents a little – the city is alive with music of every description, dance, theatre, book fairs and film, much of it in stunningly beautiful outdoor settings. The events are adored by the Romans. Of the four or five performances I attended this month, only one, the English-language comedy based on Caesar's life called Caesar – More Than Just a Salad, qualified as a tourist attraction. But even that delightful little bit of fluff had its Roman fans.
The summer festival is called Estate Romana and is sponsored by Veltroni's municipal government. To his credit, he knew he could never transform Rome into an industrial or financial centre. Rome, was, is and will always be a city of tourism, of restaurants, of the Vatican, of government and of United Nations diplomats (Rome, appropriately, has three UN food agencies). And now it's a city of culture, especially in the summer months.
Veltroni's culture effort got an endorsement in June from fashion designer Valentino. He showed his newest haute couture collection in Rome instead of Paris, where he had worked for most of his career.
The flattered mayor announced that Rome would build a Valentino museum in the historic centre. “Rome has changed utterly, thanks to the last two mayors,” Valentino said. “There are wonderful museums and hotels, you can eat everywhere. This is where I want my museum to be. I think of Rome not as a fashion capital, but as culture capital.”
It wasn't always so. For years, even decades, Rome was something of a cultural desert. There was always music of sorts, but theatre, film and festivals were in short supply. The action was in London, Paris and Berlin. Smaller Italian cities such as Venice, Verona and Spoleto managed to upstage Rome on the culture front. Rome always had terrific espresso, spaghetti alle vongole and decent shops. But just try going to a world-class opera or film festival.
Veltroni fought back. He encouraged museums to stretch their opening hours. Most now open into the early evening and some stay open well after dark for special events. Festivals sprouted everywhere, of every description. There are even math and philosophy festivals. The park next to our home in the Aventino neighbourhood, in the south end of Rome's historic centre, hosts a communist book fair (with decidedly capitalistic book prices) for much of July. There are readings from authors considered sympathetic to the cause and, of course, endless biographies of Che Guevara. This being Italy, no festival is complete without beer and wine gardens, food and music. The communist book festival is no exception.
The exact sums spent on the cultural revival are hard to pin down, but the results are known. Tourism in Rome was up 10 per cent, to about four million visitors, in the first six months of 2007.That's compared with the same period last year, Veltroni said.
The mayor is best known for the Rome Film Festival, launched last year with a guest list that included Nicole Kidman and Sean Connery. Venice is furious. It has had a film festival since 1932, making it the world's oldest, and doesn't like the competition. Veltroni is a serious film buff. He is also the voice of Turkey Lurkey in the Italian version of the Disney film Chicken Little. One of his best friends is Nanni Moretti, the director known as “the Italian Woody Allen.”
