03x02 - New Rules

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Previously on Dance Academy -

Space has temporarily opened up
in the corps de ballet.

So the Company are considering
taking some third years in

for the rest of the Sydney season.

Jeffrey has a list
of who fits his vision.

Where am I in the list?
Your legs, he likes them longer.

I lied to everyone
that I know where you are.

I think I just need to believe
that you're OK.

You know, it's funny.

I've only ever taken that bus
once or twice.

It's a bit of a mission, isn't it?
It was OK.

Gave me time to hone
my Sudoku skills. Ha!

Thanks.
You're welcome.

So, it's great you guys
have been spending so much together.

Yeah. Yeah, he didn't tell me
that school had gone back.

It's nearly March, Raf. You probably
could have worked it out.

Hey! How are you?
Freezing.

Oh, yeah, I forgot.
Tara called the other day and...

I said she should come up
and say hi.

Anyway, you guys probably want to...
and I should...

So, what's happening? Have you
been doing any classes? Yeah.

At the Kingston Centre
for Classical Arts.

Christian, I'm sorry
for just showing up,

but you promised you'd come back.

And I can handle you
breaking that promise,

but then totally falling off
the grid?

You didn't think we'd worry
about you? Who's we?

Everyone. Your friends.

I've got friends here.
Have a great trip back.

So, no secret, I've dreamt
about it, and stressed about it,

and now I'm in it - the Company.

OK, so only temporarily,
but still, big step.

Look, it's genius on two levels.

They'll find me ironically hilarious
and actually remember my name.

I am taking this whole experience
in my stride.

I am not going to be
all deer in the headlights,

freaked out that I'm performing
alongside my heroes.

I'm just going to enjoy the fact
that I'm a part of it, that I belong.

Ben Tickle, or the Benster,
whichever.

The corps guys sent me down here.
Their dressing room's full.

Yeah, that happens sometimes.

These are for the principals,
but I'm sure you'll find something.

Please, try not to embarrass us
too much.

Um, OK.

Sorry, I thought the world's best
ballet student could take a joke.

Totes.
Yeah, I'm in inside laugher.

Tara.
Hi, Isabelle.

I can't believe you nabbed a spot
as well.

How's Ethan?
No way.

Is this the Tara who
stole-your-boyfriend Tara?

That was a very long time ago.

I was about to dump him for
that scuzzy motocross guy anyway.

But still...

There's no more rooms.
I don't understand the system!

I'm Abigail Armstrong.
Dancer. Performer. Artist.

Cut.

You know who's a show reel expert?
Ethan.

We could do a conference call.
That intro will stand out.

And I don't need his advice.

Don't think I haven't noticed
the weird cone of silence

surrounding
your Barcelonian summer.

How about you save pointless
guesswork for your own time?

The Company doesn't want me,
so I don't want them.

Plus, there are hundreds of dance
companies around the world

who would be lucky to have this.

Arrogance in adversity. Nice.

So, what's going to show you off?
Classical, contemp?

Tae bo?
I have no idea.

The Royal will want classical,
New Prague's gone all Twyla Tharp,

and NPB will probably want me
reciting Hamlet as I fouette.

We're covering all bases. Again?

If you forgot
the chicken salt, C-Dog...

Hey, look, for sale. We need wheels.

Yeah, you also need a job, mate.
Shut up. I got cash.

Is that why I bought you
chips again?

Look, the bonnet's dirty.
Reckon I could talk 'em down.

You're an idiot.

Ah! Our spring chickens
have arrived!

Come, nestle under my wing
and enjoy my numerous farmyard puns.

Where shall we start, Rebecca?

From the start.
Brilliant.

You girls just watch
your fellow fowl,

and join in
as soon as you've picked it up.

Right, stop there.

Tara, the next performance
IS tomorrow night.

Sorry, could I quickly ask
about motivation?

Oh, then I have a question
about dressing room allocations.

It's just that I grew up on a farm,

and one of our chickens,
Miss Speckled Hen,

she used to clean herself
with dirt, like this.

Are you suggesting changes
to the choreography?

Oh, no, of course not!
It's timeless.

I was just wondering if my motivation
could be sort of like, hen hygiene.

Off you go.

Two, and three!

And, Tara, chickens
may be pea-brained,

but they still need
to dance in time.

I'm assuming that wasn't part
of your hygiene routine.

Farmhands to the stage, please.

Oh, I thought
that was rather lovely.

It really wasn't. Next.

Now repeat after me. 'To be
or not to be, that is the question.'

Shut up!

Whoa!
Yeah!

Whoa!

How about a dance?

Yeah! Woo hoo!!

T, public embarrassment
is no excuse for sartorial butchery.

But the Company girls wear whatever
they want to morning class,

and I know you'll tell me
not to get sucked into

the whole Miss Popularity contest,
but...

Oh, who am I kidding? I'll keep being
the loserish new girl.

I think you're cool.
You're wrong.

Abigail, Kat said you're applying
to other companies.

Don't throw a victory party
just yet.

Could you have sh*t me
from a more unflattering angle?

Someone's having an objectivity
crisis. I'll speak to you later.

But let me work my editing magic
overnight,

while you, petal, rustle up
some supporting material,

like CV, reference letter
from an esteemed authority figure.

Don't you have to focus
on your deluded plan

to fast track Second Year?

Thing is, since I came back, you've
been... you're my danceperation.

Did you just combine dance
inspiration or dance desperation?

Well, well, well,
someone crawled in late.

You can keep sleeping,
but you'll have to put a mask on.

Come on, you're here to work.
We're losing daylight. Let's go!

You're getting good at this.
Here you go.

You have been paying attention, eh?

When we have a night out,
I'm borrowing those arm warmers.

Thanks. But I think we all know
who wins fashions on the field.

Ah! Rebecca?

Right! Giselle!

Some of you may know it
as the ballet

we start rehearsing next week,

Or the one for which we have yet
to name our leading lady.

Now, if you will care to indulge me
in a little dramatic reveal,

I have managed to lure back
one of the Company's leading lights.

Ah! Speak of the devil.
Devil? That's a bit unfair.

If I wrote you a reference letter
now, do you know what it would say?

'Abigail has not yet finished
her training.'

It's my job to prepare dancers
for the National Ballet Company.

In my eyes, you're as much
a contender as anyone.

We both know at the end of the year
it's not your eyes that count.

I don't know why Rebecca told you
what she did.

I'll speak to Sir Jeffery
and clear it up.

Rebecca's the only one
telling me the truth.

Two years ago in Audition Week,

you should've taken one look
at my body type,

and known I didn't stand a chance
with the Company.

Instead, here we are.

With or without your help, Miss
Raine, I'm finding other options.

This is nice. Great rails, mate.

A few kids have asked me to teach
them this stuff over the years,

but none of them
really have the knack.

Looks like it's in the genes
or something, eh?

If dancing doesn't do it for you,
at least you'll have a backup.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What are you doing? Christian!

Working in your crappy garage isn't
my idea of a dream job, OK? OK.

Listen, mate, it's been great
having you around here.

But you're over it, right?
I didn't say that.

I get that you needed time to chill
out after your mate d*ed, I do.

And you know what, I haven't
pushed school or anything.

But bumming around in Kingston
with those dropkicks...

Are you serious?
You're calling them dropkicks?

Well, it's not helping, is it?

Great Dad voice you've been
working on, Raf. Really close.

Hey, C-Dog.
Told you I'd talk him down.

Get in already.

So, what was the damage?
It was an absolute steal.

Look at him!
He seriously believed it.

Dude, this is stupid.

We have to... we have to return it
before somebody realises.

Fine, let me out.

Let me out, you idiot!
I've got a record!

Yeah, so does me mum.
Stop the car!

Have fun walking home, douche!

Christian! Christian! Hey!

Hey!
Ben! Must you always be naked?

What?

Tara!
Hey, I was hoping that we'd...

Are you OK?
Um, yes. Hi.

I heard about Sammy.
I'm really sorry.

Last year was...
It was a tough year for all of us.

Anyway, I got you something.

Sir Jeffery, bless him,

doesn't always encourage
a lot of creativity in his corps.

So whenever I got frustrated,

my mentor had me write things down
as a way to stay inspired.

Thanks.

If you want me to quickly take you
through the peasant variation again,

your phrasing was just
the tiniest bit off.

It'll be better tonight.

I'm going to enjoy the performance
and focus on artistry.

Were you just listening?
Don't stress about artistry, OK?

Just nail the steps
and try to blend in.

So, you know, I was pressed
for editing time.

Oh, you'll be getting notes.

Where's my intro?
That was an early casualty.

Hey, look, it's a dancing foetus.

No, no, no, seriously, I feel like
some child labour laws were broken.

Shh!

Where did you get this stuff?
Apparently I'm a hoarder.

My collection is extensive.

So, what do you think?

She used to live over there.
Kaylah Runikov?

I think her and the Commish Crew
got a job in Brisbane or something.

Don't you have her deets?
I used to.

It doesn't matter.

You're never going to plant it
if your hand's that far across.

Yeah!
Woo!

Whoa-ho-ho!
Whoa!

I did what you asked.

But I still don't think
I made a mistake accepting you.

I can't... I can't face
every other Company in the world

telling me I'm not right for them,
that I'm not good enough...

OK, enough!

The speech you're giving me,
the 'I quit' speech,

I've heard it a hundred times.

But I won't hear it from you.
Not yet.

For the next two weeks, you're
off sick. No classes, no work.

Tell everyone you have glandular.

Can we make it something
a bit less disgusting, please?

After two weeks, if you still want
to quit, well, we'll talk again.

Good luck.

Look, you were good. It was a
perfectly respectable chicken dance.

All I could think about was Saskia.

Weird guilt present aside,

she basically told me
not to dance my best.

Act Two.
Beginners to the stage.

I'm playing a farm girl,
and Tara Webster knows farm girl.

So do your own thing.

Attention! Ah, sorry, this
broom closet is now off limits.

Bensters only, so...

Miss Speckled Hen, come hither.

As a member of the corps de ballet,
your entire responsibility

is to stay three inches
from the dancer on your left side,

three inches from the dancer
on your right side,

and perfectly mirror
their every movement!

I have no idea what inspired you
to ignore this fundamental rule,

except perhaps the chicken voices
in your head!

Oh, give her a break!
We were all new once.

She'll be better next time.

This is not one of those times

when I'm going to be disappointed
with the reality.

It's the Company. It's too important.

At least you had Saskia
in your corner.

Which makes everything
so much less confusing.

Excuse me,
can you please sign my program?

I'd love to. Are you a dancer?
Yes.

Time for a change in perspective.
Saskia could be right.

I have to inspire myself.

I'm thinking maybe I'll keep
a record of this year.

The good. The not so good.

The twists and turns.

You may want to sleep elsewhere.

Have you heard of dengue fever?

And that way, I won't take
anything that happens for granted.