Seduced by the King of Schmaltz: Petronella Wyatt once had her heart broken over a bad waltz. So could a private performance from violinist André Rieu help her love to dance again?

By Petronella Wyatt.

PUBLISHED: 17:33 EST, 15 November 2012 | UPDATED: 19:59 EST, 15 November 2012

André Rieu, the ‘King of the Waltz’, who has audiences all over the world indulging in the kind of hysteria usually reserved for boy bands, is leading me a merry dance. Dressed in tails the colour of Viennese night skies, he is playing Moon River on his Stradivarius (worth a cool £10 million but actually priceless) as I attempt to waltz in a ball dress with a skirt as wide as the Danube.

I have been led a merry dance before, having first fallen for André and his music three years ago when I was invited to a ball in Vienna by an Austrian beau.

Rieu, whose albums have gone platinum 243 times, selling more than 30 million copies, is credited with single-handedly reviving the waltz. In Austria, he is known as the modern Johann Strauss.

Making magic: André Rieu, the 'King of Waltz' playing his Stradivarius. Hi albums have gone platinum 243 times, selling more than 30million copies

Accordingly, before my date in Vienna, I was instructed to take dancing lessons, as the ball would resound to the lilting music of the Viennese waltz.

‘It is my personality alone that has brought back the waltz and made it a global craze,’ says Rieu, in a voice as rich as hot chocolate, his smooth complexion belying his 62 years.

This week his new album, Magic Of The Movies, was just pipped to the number one spot in the charts by Robbie Williams — which is why I am here with him playing to me in Manchester Town Hall. Rieu has sold out more venues than Bruce Springsteen, and travels with an entourage larger than that of U2 or any film star.

Indeed, the King of the Waltz reeks of Hollywood showmanship, perhaps acquired in part from his close friend Sir Anthony Hopkins. Like a matinee idol from the Golden Age, Rieu has make-up artists, dressers, valets and two bodyguards.

King of the Waltz: Andre Rieu plays the violin as Petronella Wyatt takes to the dance floor

Second nature: Andre picked up a violin aged five. He said, 'I just assumed everyone played.'

‘Two!?’ I ask incredulously. ‘Well, actually they are for my Stradivarius,’ he says. ‘It was one of the last ones he made, in 1732.’ I ask if I can stroke it. ‘No. No one can touch it except me.’ Rieu, who made a guest appearance on Strictly Come Dancing last Sunday, was born in Maastricht, the son of a violinist and conductor. His father, conductor of the Maastricht Symphony Orchestra, used to play waltzes, and his five brothers and sisters all played the violin.

‘I first picked up a violin aged five — I just assumed everyone played,’ he says.

André attended the Brussels Royal Conservatory and won a ‘Premier Prix’. While there, he performed a waltz by Franz Lehar and was astonished by the audience’s reaction.

‘It was like when my father did Strauss as an encore after a classical concert. Everyone suddenly woke up and looked so happy and emotional — like a wand had been waved.’

Precious: Andre Rieu cradles his Stradiavarius which is worth £10million but is priceless to him

High maintenance: Rieu has two bodyguards which he says are for the violin which was made in 1732

It made him decide to pursue the waltz form as a career, even though his teachers were horrified by the idea. ‘They said, “You’re crazy, it’s schmaltz. Be a classical musician.”

‘But I believed. I knew, as soon as I played, that people would get up and dance in the aisles.’

Sometimes he sounds like a mass hypnotist. I wish he could hypnotise me into learning how to waltz correctly. Before attending my first Viennese ball in the famous Musikverein, I was not encouraged by my dancing teacher’s remark that my posture was akin to that of a sick giraffe.

On the night of the ball, I wore a long white gown and white gloves (the dress code was formal).

‘Ah, there should be more things like that,’ says Rieu. ‘My dear friend Anthony Hopkins loves to waltz.’

Doubtless, Sir Anthony would have done better than me. I literally fell into the arms of my beau, who glided across the polished floor like a swan. I waddled like a goose.

My beau, who in daylight resembled an etiolated asparagus stalk, took on the glamour of a Svengali — a puppet master pulling my arms and legs into position, as the other dancers were reflected in the gilded mirrors, refracting light from myriad chandeliers.

That night I fell in love with him out of gratitude for saving my face. A very costly mistake, as it turned out. I moved to Vienna and gave up my job. Nine months later, love gave up on me.

I tell André that I blame him for this entirely. I would like to put him on trial for reviving a dance that is guaranteed to make you look idiotic, and to succumb to your first dancing partner.

He remarks cheekily: ‘I bet you look good in a dirndl. Anyway, it can’t all have been bad.’

Rieu pursued the waltz as a career despite people telling him not to because he saw how it made people happy and emotional

André has been married for 35 years ‘to the same woman’, he says triumphantly. Though she shuns the limelight, his wife Marjorie is credited with being the force behind his success.

‘We were childhood sweethearts,’ says Rieu. ‘I met her at a children’s party when I was 11 and she was 13. I knew I would marry her.’

After their wedding, she gave up a career teaching languages to bring up the couple’s two sons, Marc and Pierre, and manage her husband’s career.

Rieu had founded his own orchestra, the Johann Strauss Orchestra, in 1987. It gave its first concert in 1988 and then toured Europe. After appearances in the U.S., Japan and Europe, during which audiences ‘cried like babies’ he was dubbed ‘the waltz king’ and won two music awards.

Music critics, though, were quick to mock his ‘simplified treacle’, while one called his rendition of Nessun Dorma ‘an abomination’.

‘They said waltzes weren’t “proper music”. But people like Brahms really admired Strauss. Nothing is harder to write than a waltz.

‘Critics or musicians who attack me are jealous of my success and the fact that I make people feel so happy.’

In 1995, he was on the brink of riches and world fame. ‘That was when my big break came. My wife and I went to Universal Records in Holland and suggested an album of waltzes.

‘Initially they said, “Go to ...” — but one guy believed in me and brought them round.

Making history: Rieu made chart history when his first three albums released in the UK entered the British pop charts

‘We made a disc called Strauss And Co that came out in the autumn. The Universal guy said we will probably sell 5,000 by Christmas. We sold 250,000. And in one year we sold 850,000, which broke all records in Holland. After that, we went global.’ He made chart history when his first three albums released in the UK entered the top ten of the British pop charts. No other violinist has made such an impact. Last year, his UK tour was a sell-out.

‘It’s all me,’ he says deadpan. ‘I am a showman in the traditional sense, but modern, too. I like to use sets and lighting to create magic.

‘From the first concert I realised the impact I was having on the audiences. I stand and face them when I play. I see their eyes light up. I like to have fun. My concerts are different.’

He took his female musicians out of their black evening gowns — ‘which made them look like crows at a funeral’ — and put them in brightly coloured ball gowns.

André takes particular interest in the design of each dress, right from the drawing board stage. The seamstress takes a selection of  materials to him and he says what he thinks is best for that particular dress.

Once the dress is finished, the musician will wear the newly designed dress for André to inspect and approve. No two dresses are the same, and each girl owns four of exactly the same design, as they are taken on tour in special flight boxes. As there are 30 women in the orchestra, there have been hundreds of dresses made over the years.

His sets, too, are known for their camp, Grand Guignol extravagance, costing hundreds of thousands of pounds. Once, he recreated the Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna on stage, complete with two ice rinks with ice skaters and dancers from the Vienna Ballet.

He grins, showing impeccable dental work. ‘I bought a golden coach and had it pulled around the stage by two white Lipizzaner horses. Boy, that was crazy!’

He has been canny enough to diversify, taking pop standards and reworking them for his orchestra. His new album, Magic of the Movies, includes the theme tune from Titanic.

‘I have mass appeal,’ he insists. ‘You can’t imagine the different people who love me.’

One of those, of course, is the Oscar-winning Welsh actor Sir Anthony Hopkins. Hopkins had hoped to pursue a career as a musician and composer until Richard Burton, an early mentor, told him to pursue acting instead . . .

‘One day, two years ago, a call comes through to my New York office,’ recalls André, puffing up his chest.

‘Apparently it was about a waltz someone had written.

Sweet music: Rieu's new album takes pop standards and reworks them for his orchestra.

‘A lot of people send me waltzes they have written, and they are awful, so I said I wasn’t interested. Then they told me who it was, so I thought I would take the call and I was just mesmerised by his voice. I said: “Send me the composition.” It was remarkably good. I was really surprised.’

Hopkins’ piece was called And The Waltz Goes On, and Rieu invited the actor to hear him record it at his studio in Maastricht. It had its world premiere in Austria in July 2011 and was part of the album that won the Classic Brits Award. A beaming Hopkins was at the ceremony.

‘We are now very close,’ says Rieu. ‘In fact, he gave me my favourite scarf. It’s Hermes, but very English looking, purple and brown.

‘Soon, because of Anthony, I am about to fulfil one of my ambitions, which is to go to a film set, as he has invited me to watch him film a movie in London.’  I reflect that Rieu’s life has been like the plot of a frothy operetta.  As befits the King of the Waltz, he lives in his own castle, just outside Maastricht.

‘Ever since I was a child, I wanted a castle like the one in the Tintin comics. One day, I went for a walk and saw this castle just outside the town. I thought: “I must live there.” Some of it dates from 1452.’

It also enabled Rieu to pursue his cherished hobby.

‘My weakness is not for fast cars or boats, it’s for butterflies,’ he explains. ‘I built a huge butterfly house in the courtyard, which is heated like a rainforest with all the foliage and trees. I have about 300 butterflies, which I am constantly replacing because they only live for three weeks.’

All this threatened to come to a tragic end, however, two years ago. Without warning, Rieu was struck down by a viral inner ear infection, which left him unable to stand. ‘The room was spinning. I had nausea and dizziness.’ The man who had never taken a day off, feared he had a brain tumour and was so ill he had to cancel two concert tours.

No medication had been developed to control all the symptoms, but a specialist taught him to learn how to balance again and he has not cancelled an engagement since, even though there is a small chance of a relapse.

‘I will die on stage, playing my violin,’ he states. ‘I will never retire. I love it so much.

‘I am so proud that I can make an unemotional race like you English laugh and cry and dance during my performances.

‘We have had to add two dates to my UK tour this year.’ But do the English know how to waltz properly, I ask? He looks at me like an elephant that has had its bun taken from it. For the first time, his all-singing, all-dancing MGM exterior crumbles.

‘Even I cannot do that,’ he says gravely. Then he adds, consolingly: ‘But maybe there is hope for you? I believe your mother is Hungarian.’

Then he is off, his bodyguards bearing his Stradivarius before him, like Roman slaves bearing the golden wreath of a triumphant warrior.

I take a last twirl around Manchester Town Hall. Suddenly my shoes seem to have wings. A transformation has occurred. For the first time ever, I am truly waltzing.

Magic of the Movies is out on Decca. André Rieu and his Johann Strauss Orchestra tour the UK December 7-20 (andrerieu.com for tickets)