BACKWARDS and in HEELS: An Analysis of Sally Potter's The Tango Lesson

BACKWARDS AND IN HEELS:
An Analysis of Sally Potter’s The Tango Lesson

(Lit 383: Psychology Of Women Through Literature And Film)

“Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in heels.”
~Author unknown~

I was constantly reminded of this saying during Sally Potter’s The Tango Lesson, the story of a British film director and an Argentine dancer who search for common ground, both in the tango, and in their love affair. Who leads, who follows, how, and why – these are all questions that Potter tackles in the film.

Potter demarcates the film in lessons – initially referring to the dance lessons themselves. However, after Lesson Three, the dance falls away and becomes a backdrop to their relationship, and the lessons themselves are about learning to love, to trust, and to surrender control.
One of the first things that Potter says to Veron after watching him perform is he doesn’t “give away too much,” meaning he isn’t overtly expressive or emotional. Tango is, by nature, a study in subverting and underreporting emotion, allowing it to simmer between the dancers, without being overtly expressed. In a way, it mimics what Jean Baker Miller refers to in Toward a New Psychology of Women, when she talks about the “covert conflict” that exists in dominant-subordinate relationships. By contrast, Potter, an outspoken, independent women who is not used to taking the passive role in real life, brings their differences into the open, by telling him what she does and doesn’t like about the way he behaves with her.

Yet even in her “passive” role in the tango, Potter finds ways when she’s dancing to assert herself, whether intentionally or unintentionally. Veron is constantly giving Potter the message that she must subvert herself – her will, her feelings, her energy (which he refers to as “tension”) -- in order to make the tango work. This is especially emphasized in the film when, while he and Potter are rehearsing to perform together, Veron berates her for “doing too much.” He tells her over and over to “let go,” but she seems unable to give him what he wants. He explains that it is her job, as the subordinate partner – as the follower – to simple let go, let him lead, let him do all the work and take all the credit, so that it appears that they are one. It is clear that, though, when he refers to them being and moving as “one,” he is talking about his one, not hers. In the tango, if she completely submits and subverts all aspect of herself in the dance, she ceases to exist, and the only one that will be seen is him.

Potter does make a concerted effort to submit to the extent that she is able, no matter how difficult it is for her. She starts the film being a terribly British woman – everything contained and inside her space. In one of her first dance hall experiences, before she learns to dance, she is seen sitting in a too-small chair against the wall, trying not to catch anyone’s eye. Her hair is pinned up, her long legs are tucked into nearly the fetal position and her hands grip her knees tightly. She is a sensible woman, in all walks of life. Her hair, her shoes, her clothing – they are all practical and without embellishment. Bit by bit, she begins to release things that have thus far defined her – her hair comes down, she purchases a pair of three and half inch high heels, her clothing slowly evolves toward the alluring, with attention to detail.

It could be argued by some that perhaps this is only because of her attraction to Veron. However, this is not the message that Potter conveys. Potter isn’t merely trying to attract Veron, but is wrestling with a side of herself she has suppressed for a long time – the sexually attractive side, the side that seduces. She is struggling about taking on a role that she’s never sought before, that she doesn’t trust, and that she may not want in the end. She is allowing herself to surrender to her own status as a subordinate – perhaps because she is seduced by Veron and the tango, or perhaps because it is just another part of herself that must be revealed so it can be done away with.

For his part, Veron is walking bundle of contradictions. After he stands her up for their New Years Eve date, he later charms himself into her apartment, and tells her that it would be best if they didn’t act on their attraction – that they should “sublimate our attraction into the work.” “Sally,” he tells her, “I really have to keep my distance.” Then he lies down on the bed beside her and promptly falls asleep. He doesn’t get jealous, he tells her, yet when she dances with the Spanish tango dancers in the last third of the film, we see that he does indeed get jealous. He is constantly rewriting his “rules” of what is acceptable and unacceptable.

In terms of what Baker Miller terms the “covert” vs “open” conflict between dominants and subordinates, as opposed to equals, The Tango Lesson plays the different conflict levels out not only between the lovers, but also between the dancers. Tango is a classic case of the struggle between dominant and subordinate, where the more invisible the subordinate becomes, the better the dance works. Much as in society, if the woman can simply manage to blend her aspirations with the man as cleanly and effortlessly as possible, the smoother everything runs – for the man.

Though this film is certainly about conflict and struggle, it also depicts the other side effect of dominant and subordinate positions – trust. If one person is indeed the subordinate and one the dominant, then it follows that at no time can they ever fully trust one another. The subordinate must never tell the dominant her true feelings, lest she risk the structure that she’s come to depend upon. And the dominant must never let the subordinate see signs of weakness and vulnerability, as part of the agreement is based on the man “leading,” and so his step must not falter. How do you have an intimate relationship with someone you cannot possibly trust? Yet that is what men and women are expected to do every day. No wonder the divorce rate is around fifty-eight percent. In the film, as in life, each wants something from the other, yet neither is able to come right out and ask for what they want – he because he doesn’t want to admit that she might have something he needs, and she’s because she has been conditioned not to come out and ask for what she needs.

In the end, it is Veron who finds himself confused by their encounter. When Potter tells him that she loves him “with her eyes – through her work,” he asks, much as a woman might, “Is that all?” He confesses to her that he belongs no where – not in synagogue, not in church, not in France, not in Argentina. He tells her he wants to know why they met. Ultimately, he tells her, his worst fear is that he will vanish and leave nothing behind to show for his life.

Interesting how the worst fear this man has is the reality that most women have – that their lives are relegated to playing second lead in someone else’s psycho-drama, and that there will ultimately be nothing left of them but what was allowed them by the people who were leading in the dance.

~C~