Opinion: Don Cameron

Yachting provides New Zealand's opera to the world


Over the decades some New Zealanders have climbed high in the world of international music - Inia te Wiata, Michael Houston, Kiri te Kanawa, Split Enz coming to mind - but New Zealand has never had the distinction of being the focus, the setting for that ultimate of muscial drama, the Grand Opera.

But not any more. In recent weeks on Auckland's very own and watery doorstep there have been dramas and tragedies and triumphs, accompanied by thundering clouds and shrieking winds and ravening storms. Had Wagner been about he may even have conceded defeat and stuck his quill back into the goose.

This is, of course, the staging of the Louis Vuitton stage of the America's Cup yachting contest - a superbly rich yet untouched field for the great composers of Grand Opera.

We have been through the rehearsals which were the opening round-robins as a dozen or so yachts began the process which has left AmericaOne and Prada in the second-act duet.

The sets have always been there - the vast expanse of the Hauraki Gulf. Mother Nature provides the orchestra, ranging from the soft zephyrs of the violins to subtle strains of the cellos in the waves to the shrieking wind-pitch of wind in the rigging to the cymbalblasting, tympani-thumping climax that turned men to quaking mortals last weekend.

The cast are now familiar. They are led by Peter Montgomery, the Pavarotti of world yacht broadcasting, that breathless hewer of hyperbole, the maestro of the high seas.

The velvet baritone tones come from Chris Law. The supporting cast is led by John McBeth, the conductor, the prompter, the continuity glue that holds the parts together (and probably the egos apart) at last relieved from the smelly depths of the scrum and ruck. Peter Lester has the fair-dinkum Kiwi part, the laconic local lad, his yachting expertise laced with droll humour, and Ed Baird brings a bit of slightly bemused American sanity to the bass role.

Montgomery is the passionate one, who can apparently dial up drama from watching the tap-water gurgle down the plughole. The amazing thing about Montgomery ( "PJ" to the opera-goers in the peanut gallery) is that he can hoot and holler while keeping one eye on the yachts, another on the monitor, and maintain his vertical posture even if the rest of the liquid world is turning upside down.

Fortunately, Montgomery has the technical stability of Law to keep him upright. While Montgomery lets his passion flow unchecked, Law offers the cool, calm counter-point.

He obviously knows intimately the ins and outs, the shining and shady sides, of yachting. Law often seems wiser than the men in the yachts. If Law knew as much about horse-racing as he obviously does about the intricacies of yachting racing I would happily peep over his shoulder at the tote window.

Only occasionally a missed note. Montgomery spent rather too long calling a hawser (pronounced "hoar-zer") as a "how-sir," and as he expertly rattled off the names of the Italians on Luna Rossa, Law complimented him on his "pronounciation''.

Montgomery and Law are becoming better at keeping the language within laymen's reach. McBeth still likes a self-deprecating reference to the "pointy end," as distinct from the blunt end which, knowing McBeth's impish ways, is understandable.

The plot may need a little further work ere the final act, before the opera is defined as triumph or a tragedy.

Whether it should be titled Haere Mai Hauraki or Hauraki Haere Ra.