"Previously on Dance Academy..." "All I want is a nice, simple crush." "Just stop." "I'll like you if I want, and there's nothing you can do about it." "Fine." "Like me, then." "Fine, I will." "I'm not doing this dance." "Darling, you're just tired and you are run-down, no doubt from rehearsing that ridiculous musical." "It's not ridiculous." "And it makes me happy." "I know what makes you happy." "I have sacrificed everything for your happiness." "Finn, hi, it's me." "Um, you're gonna have to find a replacement." "Just rehearsals were interfering too much." "This is for the teachers at the Academy." "For overlooking me." "And that's for my dad." "I'm in the Nationals at the Prix de Fonteyn." "Book a ticket." "Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells" "It's here, after nine months of training and agonising over our solos... the National Finals of the Prix de Fonteyn." "Judgement day." "Only two girls and two boys out of the country will make it through to the Internationals." "And the worst part?" "That all of our technique, our artistry, our individuality... the judges take these hard-earned things and transform them into cold, unforgiving numbers." "Grace Whitney, National Academy, Classical Round." "7.7." "7.6." "7.5." "7.6." "6.9." "8.9." "Thank you, Michael Slade, Tasmanian School of Dance." "The Slade has spoken." "Beat that." "Zach, who appointed the judges?" "They hate us." "It's rigged." "Everyone, just calm down." "Zach, we're not sevens." "Whoa, you might be, but we're not." "What?" "!" "They're playing favourites." "Enough!" "I will be making enquiries with the Committee as to whether there is bias involved." "As the National school, we enjoy certain privileges." "It can work against us." "However, that's not your concern." "You are going to suck it up and focus on the Contemporary Round tomorrow." "There he is." "Hi." "Your mum's at a conference." "We thought we could be your fan base." "You weren't at the theatre just then, were you?" "Sorry" " I got stuck at the hospital." "But you're on again tomorrow, right?" "Saw your 'Stalkbook' update." "6.9." "No-one gets..." "Yeah, Ollie, this is my dad." "Wow, the famous Dr Lieberman." "So, it didn't go so well today?" "I'm sure his girlfriend made him feel better." "Ari." "I checked your relationship status, too." "So why don't we do lunch tomorrow before you perform?" "You could invite this girl along." "Yeah, that... that sounds really, um... really good." "Um, look, I've got to get changed, though, so..." "Alright." "I'll call you." "OK." "Ari." "Lunch with the family and you changed your status." "This is getting serious." "Look, you can't come to theatre 'cause we might give off vibes." "My family's not like yours, OK?" "My mum would cry." "Dad would just blame ballet." "Right." "And his opinion counts 'cause he's always been so supportive." "Hello." "Hey." "Thank you!" "Finn has done the rewrites but we are just, like, devoid of all choreography skills." "So are you going to do both roles now?" "Yeah, yours and mine." "It's a Jekyll-and-Hyde acting challenge." "Finn, look who heard the distress signal." "Ah, I told you - we don't need any help." "That is just a lie." "It's OK." "He thinks I let you down." "I got the voicemail." "I..." "I couldn't have done it anyway, now that it's opening tomorrow night." "It's a direct clash with the Nationals..." "I know, darlin'." "He gets it, and so do I - super prestigious ballet competition trumps unpaid fringe musical every time." "That Slade kid needs taking down." "The headband's got you rattled." "It's you I'm worried about." "Nothing is gonna psyche me out tomorrow." "That's why I'm beating you." "OK." "So if I reminded you" "I beat you in the preliminaries, that wouldn't be unsettling?" "I was luring you into a false sense of security." "And that girl you like..." "I'm with now?" "Kat?" "That is so six months ago." "And plus, it's your ex who thinks I'm hot." "She loses her way sometimes." "Hey, Tara." "Want to go to the beach?" "Now?" "Where have you been?" "Just training." "Good." "I wouldn't worry about those judges." "They'll be eating their scorecards when you win the International." "Have you thought about where you want your scholarship to be?" "No." "I, um, didn't want to jinx myself." "I've always thought - picture New York." "We'll get an apartment near Lincoln Center." "You'll be in the Company by the time you're 18." "And soloist by 21?" "Principal by the time you're 24." "Oh." "It's all gonna happen for you, sweetheart." "Excuse me." "Can I borrow you for a second?" "Yes." "Um, sorry, Mum." "OK, all you gotta do is..." "shoot me adoring looks and if I say something witty, be like," "'Oh, Sammy, you're such a character!" "'" "A sane person would just say, 'No, Dad, I don't have a girlfriend.'" "Yes, but he's expecting one." "And if I can smooth just this one situation... you know?" "As my entire life has become about pleasing other people, why not?" "It's so sweet of you to do this." "It really puts stuff in perspective." "Do you reckon you could eat this raw?" "Like sushi-style?" "Perspective, like, remember how a couple of weeks ago" "I said I wasn't ready to go out with anyone?" "Vaguely." "So... if it makes a difference, I think I'm past that." "Um, OK, look." "The problem is, there's, like, a friend ladder and a girlfriend ladder." "And you can move up and down these ladders, but you just can't cross from one ladder to another." "And I'm on the friend ladder." "Close to the top, but, yeah." "Got it." "This was where we left our stuff, right?" "Have we been robbed?" "Who steals from people in the middle of an important competition?" "Slade." "I would not put it past him." "Somebody, elite athletes in distress!" "We can walk." "Trust me, I've done it before." "What?" "Nothing." "Let's go." "Heading into the final day of the Nationals, to avoid any disputes about influence, fictional or otherwise, the judging panel will keep their scores private." "Results will be announced at the end of competition today." "Benjamin Tickle, National Academy." "Don't hurt yourself." "T, that must have been some seaside adventure." "We're on the friends ladder." "Yeah, no, he didn't just look at you like a friend." "OK, so just stick to neutral topics... like the weather, Sydney traffic." "Look, let's just abort." "You obviously want to be backstage." "Too late." "Sammy." "Hey, Dad." "Ari, this is Abigail, my girlfriend." "It's my girlfriend, Abigail." "This is Dad." "This is Ari, who you've met." "Mr Lieberman." "Abigail." "Hi." "It's a lovely day." "Hi." "Was traffic OK?" "Yeah, it was fine, thanks." "Shall we eat?" "Yeah." "Yep." "Incredible, isn't he?" "Maybe ask him why he's suddenly all over you." "Because he's enchanted by her winsome charms." "He's trying to psyche me out." "Really?" "I'm so hideous that no-one would ever like me unless there's an agenda?" "And why, pray tell, would it psyche you out, boyfriend?" "That's the thing, it wouldn't." "Just don't get hurt, OK?" "Ignore him." "The competition is warping his brain." "Don't be nervous on my account." "I don't expect anything today." "Just seeing how my money's spent." "Just making sure you're not wasting it." "So, how, um, how bad do you think I'm going to be today, exactly?" "Honey, tone warning." "Sammy, I'm just trying to make conversation." "Yeah." "How would you know what to say to me when we're basically strangers?" "Hmm?" "Sorry." "He's just a little temperamental." "Excuse me." "What are you doing?" "Did you hear that?" "No matter how I do, I'm a disappointment, regardless." "I can't..." "I can't do it, OK?" "I'm out." "OK?" "I can't get up there and try and prove him right." "You pushed me in the fountain!" "You were irritating me." "Can you stop complaining about your dad's low expectations?" "Do you know what I would give for low expectations?" "And who cares if he doesn't think you're good?" "You're not dancing in that competition because of him." "Right, OK, so why am I dancing, then, huh?" "'Cause that's where you want to be, more than anywhere else." "You want to be on that stage, doing what makes you happy." "I was gonna sneak out the back so we didn't give off vibes." "I could sort of use you side stage instead." "I'm sorry." "No." "I'm just happy I'm so well-adjusted compared to you." "Hmmph." "So I'm thinking, if anyone was to have the skillage to cross ladders, it'd be you." "How would that work?" "Well, um, the ladders, they would have to be pretty close." "And then if you just leaned over..." "Or I could..." "Next to the stage, Christian Reed, the National Academy." "Tell me you didn't just do that to mess with Christian." "What?" "No." "I mean, asking you to the beach was... it was a tactic." "But it didn't end like that..." "Stop talking." "This crush, or whatever it was, is officially over." "What is going on with him?" "Don't tell me there's a boy lurking when we're off to New York." "'Break an eyelash." "Finn and Mistii.'" "Who's that?" "Oh, those musical theatre people?" "How sweet." "Right." "Mum?" "Mm?" "I have to go." "Sit down, please." "We need to get your make-up done." "Come on." "Right." "Here we go." "No, Mum." "I know how much you want this." "And you could be right - I might win the Prix." "But I might not." "The thing is, I don't care either way." "Sweetheart, it's just the nerves talking." "Just relax." "No, Mum, listen!" "I'm not dancing today." "I can't breathe." " Don't." " Oh, I can't breathe." "Mum, I can't be responsible for making you breathe." "That's not my job." "Sweetheart..." "Once again, the Slade is superior." "Not with that headband." "Samuel Lieberman, National Academy." "Hey, what are you doing?" "What are you doing?" "What are you do...?" "!" "How about... how about we make this an immersive experience and you guys just..." "imagine the music?" "Hey!" "Get... off me!" "It's usually less bumpy." "I've never seen anything like it." "We didn't get to finish our lunch." "Do you think you could come home soon?" "You too, Ollie." "You're welcome anytime." "There's this argument that there shouldn't be competitions in ballet because it's an art, not a sport." "The following four dancers will be representing Australia in the International Round of the Prix de Fonteyn." "But competition brings out the best in some people." "For others, it crystallises what's important to them." "You're all so touchy-feely." "The part I don't like is ranking everyone best to worst." "In the Girls' Section, the Silver Medal is awarded to..." "Grace Whitney, National Academy." "But I might just be saying that right now to prepare myself for disappointment." "And the Gold Medal goes to..." "Tara Webster, also from National Academy." "In the Boys' Section, the Silver Medal... goes to Michael Slade, Tasmanian School of Dance." "Let me out!" "Which, uh, he'll collect later." "And the Gold Medal is awarded... to Samuel Lieberman, National Academy." "Australia, these are your representatives." "Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells"