The Tango Lesson.

In The Tango Lesson (Sony Pictures), written and directed by Sally Potter, learning about life and love are elaborately intertwined with learning to dance the tango. Potter, who directed the Oscar-nomimated Orlando in 1993, was at work on another screenplay, Rage, when she began taking tango lessons. Her preoccupation with the tango and eventually her tango teacher, Pablo Veron, led her to make this film instead. She wanted to learn the tango; he wanted to be a film star. She cast herself opposite him. Understandably, the film becomes disconcertingly complicated as the barrier between fact and fiction blurs.

Potter's story is presented in black and titled "Lesson One," "Lesson Two," and so on. She works on her script for Rage in a bare room with only a chair and table, a sheaf of paper, and a pencil. But dramatic episodes from this intended screenplay are enacted in vivid color: models in vibrant gowns are mysteriously murdered in an atmosphere of surreal hyperactivity. The contrast between the imagined script and the restrained, sparse quality of the actual narrative in black and white is startling.

It is the tango that color's Potter's real life. She sees the Argentinean dancer Veron in a performance and asks him for lessons. But she ventures to Argentina to study with others before her lessons with him begin in earnest. There, in the milongas (tango clubs), she comprehends the inclusiveness of the form, watching men and women of all ages, shapes, and sizes succumb to its power.

Potter's previous experience as a dancer and her sense of herself as a woman prevent her from submitting easily to Veron's lead, as he insists that she must. Clearly, she learns something, for he asks her to be his partner. Their relationship accelerates, personal difficulties paralleling the professional. The low point occurs after their first performance. He accuses her of ruining everything, insisting that she does not allow him to be free in his dancing.

The dance scenes with choreography by Veron are as intense as the Argentinean tango, whether they take place as a private lesson, a performance, or in a milonga. This is not the flashy "rose-between-the-teeth" tango. It is subtle, concentrated--the dancers' heads angled together rather than flatly cheek to cheek. Their bodies are held as if they might explode, and their tactile footwork is meticulously timed. Complex turns in varying degrees angle the partners toward and away from each other in split seconds. Potter's camera captures the passionate implications of every move. This film also has a dance scene in the pouring rain--this time Veron and Potter on a street in Buenos Aires. (Has dancing in the rain become a prerequisite for dance films?) And there are moments of humor. Trying to impress Potter with his potential as a film star, Veron performs a rhythmic routine while making a salad that is quintessential Hollywood. A wild meeting with movie moguls is a wonderful spoof.

Although Potter masters the tango fairly well, she is never as good as Veron's first partner. Would someone of his integrity perform with a lesser artist just to be in a film? Should she have cast someone else in her role? Possibly, but then The Tango Lesson would have been a different film.