Children dancing

FIRST POSITION: The feet are aligned and touching heel to heel, making as nearly a straight alignment as possible. The knees are also touching with legs straightened. In beginners' classes, most exercises at the barre start from first position.
--Wikipedia

I'm not a "balletomane."  In fact, I've only watched live ballet a couple of times in my life -- both times, attending Christmas performances of the Nutcracker with family.  But I've been moved by the dedication that children and teenagers bring to their training in dance -- a dedication I first noted in the Billy Elliot musical, and in the attendant videos that illustrated the search for and training of youngsters to play the lead and supporting roles for that production.  And I was moved last night by the documentary First Position, a film that followed six boys and girls in their pursuit of honors at the Youth America Grand Prix (YAGP) finals in New York.

For me, the attraction is less the dancing itself -- as beautiful as it is -- than the intensity of effort displayed by the kids and the varying relationships that exist between the dancers and their parents.  This film was produced in the same manner as was Spellbound, the documentary about spelling bees that I discussed in 2008 -- introducing the featured contestants, showing us their families, noting how the parents and children interact as the competition grows near, and finally watching the competition itself and its aftermath.

The YAGP competition is open to dancers between 9 and 16, divided into three age brackets.  The film followed one boy and one girl in each bracket.  Each child was amazing in his or her abilities and willingness to work.  Even the one  goof-off, relatively speaking, a grinning 10-year-old boy from Palo Alto who ultimately told his mother he didn't want to continue with dance, gave a creditable performance in the semi-finals.

Especially moving were the back stories of the two oldest dancers.  The girl was a refugee from Sierra Leone, where she had watched her parents killed and her teacher's limbs hacked off by the rebel army.  She found herself captivated by a picture of a ballerina while living in an African orphanage. She began lessons after being adopted by a Jewish couple in America.  She wanted to prove that a girl of African descent had the grace and lightness of foot to perform classical ballet, a claim that apprently is often disputed.

The boy, age 16, was a resident of Colombia.  He had left his family behind and come on his own to America to continue dance lessons and enter the YAGP competition.  The documentary caught his phone conversations with his parents at home, conversations that seemed to be primarily parental lectures, lectures filled with admonitions that he was his family's only hope and warnings that there would never be any employment for him back home in Colombia.  My impression of his parents --a horrified impression, just from sensing the burden their warnings placed on their son -- was totally reversed when the camera followed him for a brief visit with his family in Colombia, shortly before the YAGP finals.  The love and closeness that existed between him and his parents and kid brother was overwhelmingly obvious.

In the end, most of the six contestants did well.  Aside from the youngest boy, who seemed more interested in playing computer games than dancing, only one -- a girl in the middle grouping -- did not receive a prize.  She was devastated, but the epilogue revealed that one of the judges called her a couple of months after the contest and offered her a position with the Washington (D.C.) Ballet.  The girl from Sierra Leone received a scholarship from the school of the  American Ballet Theater (ABT) in New York.  The Colombian received a scholarship to the Royal Ballet school in London.

I'll admit to occasional tears in my eyes during the movie.  For children of their age to care so deeply about their chosen career -- a career that, at best, will rarely last past the age of 35 -- and to be so willing to give up many of the enjoyable aspects of childhood, was incredibly moving.  But from the kids' point of view, they were giving up nothing.  They were doing what they loved.  As one of the girls pointed out, they all managed to maintain a certain balance in their lives, and had some time to be kids as well as dancers.  (The camera followed an amazingly graceful 11-year-old dancer as he zoomed around Central Park on his skateboard.)   I recall one of the Billy Elliot dancers saying in a YouTube interview that it was the other way around: He felt sorry for the lives of his non-ballet friends, kids who seemed so often bored and aimless -- he felt no envy whatsoever.

Finally, I was also impressed by the parents.  One mother was driven to push her children (the boy who quit -- but also a highly motivated older sister), and at one point her teacher had to restrain her from from excessive interference in her kids' instruction.  Some, such as the Jewish couple, simply observed in awe their children's talent and determination.  The father of one boy, a teenaged dancer who wasn't one of those featured in the documentary, confessed -- in his slow Southern drawl -- that a career in ballet was the last thing that ever came to mind when his son was born.  He'd just hoped he might grow up to be a good ballplayer -- but that, as it turned out, "I couldn't be prouder!"  

And the film made clear that the sacrifices weren't all those of the children -- all the parents were struggling with the demands that their children's lessons and travel expenses placed on their time and pocketbooks.

I'm simply happy knowing that kids like these exist.  I'm reminded that the school of the Pacific Northwest Ballet, here in Seattle, is ranked one of the three best dance schools in America, along with ones in New York and San Francisco.  Within a couple of miles of my own home, young people just like those in First Position are also struggling -- both painfully and joyfully -- to be the very best dancers they can become.