Whenever I read about people who are in thrall to a dance craze, my world suddenly seems too small. Oh, to dance the mazurka until my footmen are forced to carry me home on a makeshift gurney at dawn; oh, to spurn a dinner invitation to Scott and Zelda's because I literally cannot stop doing the Charleston.
Hip-Hop dancer and teacher Jonathan Lee shows you how to master floats, clides and slides.
Dance teacher Wayne Williams stood at the lip of the Newark Arts High stage, his back to the two dozen black-clad students lined up behind him. "Where are your hands?" he asked over his shoulder. "Out" they shouted. "Chin?" he called. "Up," they said. "Stomach?" "In," they replied a few giggles distupting their perfect unison.
A boy in a tutu. That was the image Lee Hall saw in his mind's eye when he began the original screenplay for "Billy Elliot," the tale of a striking coal miner's son who crashes the gates of the Royal Ballet School in London.