The answers would be more interesting if the movie weren't already shaped by Potter. In fact, an actual documentary by an impartial third party would've been a lot more interesting, since Potter is of course already controlling the way we see Veron. When he's performing the tango without Potter, she's still (literally) calling the shots about the placement of the camera, the lighting, and the editing, even if she does nothing more than lock down and roll film. It doesn't help that the film-within-a-film Potter struggles with is god-awful: The studio execs are presented as the usual vapid El Lay dimwits, but based on the evidence she shows us--basically a straight version of the lousy midgets-and-smoke dream sequence from Living in Oblivion--they'd be mooncalves to cough up a cent.

Potter has taken heat for casting herself in the lead, but she makes a pretty appealing heroine: The movie wouldn't be half as interesting without her in the lead, for cinematic novelty alone. She even dances honorably when she steps onto the floor with Veron, a human panther with charisma to burn. But it's behind the camera where she really shines during the dance sequences: They're exquisitely photographed in silvery black-and-white by the great Robby MŸller (Breaking the Waves), with the attention to setting and surrounding space that hack directors always overlook. For two sequences alone The Tango Lesson is worth seeing: an amusingly sexy dance of flirtation that plays teasing spatial games with parallel airport escalators, and an extended tango on a riverwalk that's simply magical. The scenes of practice and performance are always engaging, but off the floor The Tango Lesson has two left feet.