Previously on Dance Academy...
Weak ankles.
Behind technically.
At least you can catch up.
I need to be genetically reprogrammed.
What do you mean, I have to do pointe? Boys don't do pointe!
They do when their ankles are weak.
But I'll be a laughing stock.
Oop!
"Proven commitment to training for an elite career in dance
"would be compelling evidence
"that Christian would benefit from a non-custodial sentence."
This could be your ticket to freedom.
I've never met anybody so rude!
Doesn't your mother teach you manners?
She's dead.
And leaving me at the beach. Hilarious, right?
But you weren't even with us.
Because of you, the whole school is laughing at me.
What are you talking about here? I don't even know you.
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Shoulders down, Tara.
In pirouettes, you have to keep your eyes on the one fixed spot.
All your focus must be on your spot.
Everything else has to be kept out of your mind.
No distractions, just the spot.
What did I say about focus?
100% focus demands 100% commitment,
and that means some things have to be sacrificed.
Someone kept moving my spot.
Uh-huh.
I swear.
When you see Tara, can you give her this?
I think she might have accidentally dropped it in the bin.
It's sort of blurry.
It's sort of Ethan.
Oh.
Did you throw this in the bin?
Yep.
Not because you found a better shot of him?
No.
From now on, I'm sticking with my friends.
Gold elephant stamp for you, Tiara.
I'm a dead man.
Dude, it's only English.
And you got a B+, not an F.
Dead, dead, dead.
There is no pulse, OK?
I'm six feet underground.
For a corpse, you're doing a pretty good job of topping every class.
Are you serious, Kat? Yes.
Take a look around.
This is a dance school.
In my Dad's opinion, it's easy to top.
And I promised him straight A's and...
Straight A's and synagogue every Saturday.
I would love an excuse like that to get out of class.
Sorry, excuse? No.
See, Kat, that's where you're wrong.
It's not an excuse, OK? It's this web of lies.
One week I'm telling Dad, "I'm too sick to go to temple." Next week...
You're telling the school you're too sick to dance,
so you can go to synagogue.
You realise you can't keep that up. You risk serious implosion.
OK.
OK, so I've got it.
OK, I have to go to Shabbat tonight and temple tomorrow,
because I promised Dad I'll do a reading.
That's it. OK, I'll be firm.
- Young Lieberman. - Yes.
How's your health? No tickle in the throat?
You haven't eaten a bad sausage? No, I'm fine, sir.
Then we'll have the pleasure of your feet in my Saturday class tomorrow.
Yeah, with... See, with the class...
You do know the meaning of the word 'compulsory',
as in 'compulsory Saturday class'?
Yes. I'm kind of living it at the moment.
Good.
Come on, where is it?
Hey, man.
Oh, come in.
My stuff's in the way.
Oh, where is it?
There are crumbs in my bed.
What?
Crumbs.
Oh, yeah, that'd be the poppy seed cake. Sorry, man.
Wait, you ate cake on my bed?
Yeah, well, you know, my bed had things on it.
Mum only baked it yesterday and it's a really nice batch.
Go on, have some.
OK.
Hey, look, I get it. I understand.
I'll clean all this up the second I get back from Shabbat.
Yes!
OK...
Ooh, hey, do you want to come?
Um, no. I've got my own family stuff.
Oi, you!
Get out of it. I said get out of there.
I heard you. Want me to call the cops?
Ari! What are you doing?
- Ari! - But I'm da-a-ancing!
Get the chicken.
Don't you think I'm beautiful when I'm dancing?
You're not even funny.
Get your chicken.
Sammy, sit, please.
Would you like some more, Mum?
Dancing school wasn't supposed to interfere
with your studies or proper religious observance.
I attend synagogue.
On and off, when the mood takes you.
You're not a B+!
I know. You're a top-percentile!
Sam, you could have any career you want.
Yeah, as long as it's a cardiologist, right?
Oh, nonsense. There are plenty of other specialties.
I know we don't like to admit it publicly,
but your grandfather was merely a dermatologist.
Sammy wants to be a ballerini-ologist.
What? That's enough, Ari.
I worry that you're sacrificing your education,
taking liberties with your faith.
You tell us you're one of the best dancers at the Academy.
He is! You've seen him dance.
But what will that give you long-term?
Think.
But you made a promise. You have to attend synagogue.
It'll break your father's heart...
Don't worry, Mum. I'll be there. I promise.
Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! I'm the champion, my friend.
That was poetry in motion. You should bow down before me.
I am the reigning pool shark.
Best of three.
Best of five. No, I'm done!
Kitty Kat. Quick game?
Busy. But you can help me appliqué.
Uh, no.
Tara, you wanna play?
Sorry, I'm busy too.
Ah, one game won't hurt.
100% focus demands 100% sacrifice.
I'm helping Kat.
Hey.
Where is my stuff?
I chucked it.
You what?
It's in the garbage.
You can't do that!
If I ever have to pick up after you again, I'll get violent.
Is that a promise?
Hit me.
Come on, you can get me out of class.
What? Come on, free shot. Go the nose.
Lots of blood. It's gonna look great.
Actually, that'll heal by the morning so you'd better go the mouth.
Just give me a nice big, fat lip.
OK, and... go.
Go!
Yes! Crumbs!
Christian, you hate crumbs. Look - crumbs.
Reckless. Ha-ha! There we go...
What am I supposed to do?
Three generations of Liebermans made it through med school
without even feeling the urge to pirouette.
So why do I get the curse?
I'm going to ask you something.
Yeah?
Dancer or doctor?
Dancer.
Yeah.
Mr Lieberman!
It's just so nice to see your Saturday face.
Hey, I need you warm.
I'm ready.
No, you're not. You've been bludging all morning.
What's wrong?
Synagogue starts at 11:00.
I feel sick. The guilt is eating me up.
OK, turns a la seconde.
Ready? And...
Pivot en dehors.
Focus on lifting from your inside thighs.
Christian, you're turning in.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. You right?
Is there a problem?
Yeah, you.
Such a waste of time.
Did you say something?
This class is a waste of time.
Does anybody else think this is a waste of time?
What are we gonna do - waste your time or everybody else's?
OK, let's keep going.
I want to see the whole movement now.
Alright, ready?
Sammy, focus more on your supporting leg...
Promise me you'll go. It'll break your father's heart...
Don't worry. I'll be there...
Sammy?
No, I don't feel so good.
You'll have a rest in a minute.
Dancing school wasn't supposed to interfere
with your studies or proper religious observance.
- We had an agreement, Sammy. - You made a promise.
No lies.
Oh!
My fault for pushing you.
You'd better go wash your face.
I'll go check on him. Thanks, Tara.
Can someone find a mop?
Sammy, are you OK? You look terrible.
My stomach is in knots.
I'd be sick again if there was anything left.
Sit down.
No, I can't, Tara, OK?
I've got, what, 20 minutes to make the synagogue or I'm history.
You're not still going?!
I need you to cover for me.
This is crazy, Sammy.
Please, please. Tara.
Go.
Yes! Thank you. Thank you.
How is he?
Fine. I mean, he's not fine. Well, he's sick, obviously...
Maybe we should call a doctor.
Well, he's not doctor-sick yet, so...
He's pretty sick but he's not that...
You know, Tara, you have a total inability to lie. Where is he?
I did it!
I was five minutes late but I made it for the reading.
Great. That's... that's great.
Yeah, Dad was happy.
Good.
Patrick not so much.
He saw straight through me. I had to tell him everything.
Huh.
I'm really sorry, Sammy.
Yeah, yeah. Yeah.
So are you homophobic or what?
See? Must have touched a raw nerve.
Dude, seriously, you need to chill out.
Patrick's one of the few alright people working here.
He got in my face. I don't like people in my face.
He was correcting you.
I don't like people touching me either.
Must make you a fun date.
You'll never get to find out.
Can I have that in writing?
This too close?
What are you doing?
People pay their shrinks thousands of dollars for aversion therapy.
I'm prepared to do it for free.
Now, in 10 words or less,
describe how me touching your arm makes you feel.
It makes my skin crawl.
Hmm. And now?
Same.
What about that?
I've changed my diagnosis.
You're not homophobic, you're peoplephobic.
Don't worry. I don't think it's incurable.
Morning, everyone.
Mr Reed, you're back.
Sammy, Mr Kennedy wants to see you in his office.
Oh, OK.
Now.
Right.
OK, let's get started.
Come in.
Close the door after you, Sammy.
Mr Reed, you look bored.
Sorry, did you say something?
I asked if anyone would like to demonstrate.
Stop, guys.
When you're ready.
Not a bad turn, for a first-year.
But you let yourself down with a wavering working leg.
You were fast, but technically sloppy.
This time, slow it down.
I want nice controlled relevés with perfect technique.
When you're ready.
There is a reason we do the boring exercises.
Girls, change into your pointe shoes.
You've always said you wanted to dance.
You always suggested you might have been the best at it.
Clearly, you're not. Right? I'm trying my hardest...
We're thinking about your future.
It's over.
When Dad thought I was the best, it was barely acceptable.
Now he knows I'm the worst.
But we're working on that. We're going to be good.
He said I'm good at other things.
You don't care about any of those.
Doesn't matter. Dad's pulling me out of the Academy.
Must be a big relief.
What?
I just figured it out. You actually WANT to leave.
Yeah, how does that work?
Because then you won't ever have to face up to the question
of whether you're good enough.
You can just say, "Dad didn't let me."
It wasn't my choice. But you said 'dancer', not 'doctor'.
Don't be like Christian.
That guy, he has talent dripping from his toenails,
but he's too gutless to do anything with it.
- I'm going to ask you something. - Dancer or doctor?
You're a top-percentile.
I tried my best.
That's what I'm worried about.
You've seen him dance.
You could have any career you want.
Dancer or doctor?
Six months down the track I'm going to be even more behind,
then one day they'll come and kick me out because I lack focus.
They're not going to kick you out.
Three generations of Liebermans made it through med school
without even feeling the urge to pirouette.
So why do I get the curse?
Focus on your spot.
I'm going to ask you something.
'Dancer'.
Where are you, pointe shoes?
You beautiful little things, where are ya?
What are you doing?
I'm looking for my pointe shoes.
You're staying?
Yeah.
I told you your dad would understand.
Yeah.
Oh. He didn't.
Not even close.
Yes!
Sometimes the things you commit to
aren't going to please everyone.
Putting yourself on the line comes at a cost.
OK, right from the top.
Breathe in, and...
Energy out, and...
But if you want to be the best,
sacrifices have to be made.
Maybe not all at once.
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