A lot of the general population has this perception that dancers are dumb. I think we have the same percentage of idiots working in our industry as everybody else has in other business sectors. Idiots – you meet them everyday – everywhere. I’ve learned long ago that intelligence and advancement in any industry has no correlation what so ever. I’ve worked with some real idiots in my time. There’s not a lot you can do about them except try to stay out of their way.
Gina was an idiot – pure and simple. I was working for Harold – an independent choreographer in Montreal and both Gina and I were part of a couple of his productions. Harold’s main strength was his ability to put together large cast productions – made up from dancers on break from their companies and freelance dancers. Because all of the dancers in the cast had different and/or conflicting working schedules, Harold would work with most of us in small groups of twos, threes and fours. About two weeks before the performance period, Harold would pull the entire cast together. This man really did his homework. The complicated choreography would meld together seamlessly. We were doing the first rough run through of Shostakovich (the other work on the program was entitled ‘Clash’) – ten dancers – fast entrances and exits – difficult and differing patterns on the floor – absolutely no problems. Harold was a genius. Gina made her first entrance. As she moved across the floor – all of the dancers around her started crashing into each other in an effort to miss her. “Wow,” I said to Julie, “That’s never happened before. It’s not like Harold to miscalculate that much.” Julie raised her eyebrows and stared at me. “I don’t think Gina was doing Shostakovich,” she said. I looked at Julie, “What do you mean?” “I think Gina was doing ‘Clash’, she replied. “Please,” I said, “Nobody’s that stupid. Shostakovich is lyrical and with classical music and ‘Clash’ is with rock music.” Julie smiled, “I’m willing to bet.” I snorted at Julie, “OK – I’ll just go ask her.” I walked over to Gina who was standing in the middle of the room. “Gina, when did Harold choreograph this section of Shostakovich for you?” “Hmm?” said Gina turning to me. I repeated the question. It took Gina a few minutes to clue in. “Oh,” she said, “I was practicing ‘Clash’.” “Didn’t you notice that we were rehearsing the Shostakovich?” I asked her. “Hmm?” said Gina.
We started to tour a few of Harold’s pieces and it was during one series of performances that I ran into what became for me – the Gina factor. So – let me first explain what was SUPPOSED to be presented on stage. I would make my entrance on one side of the stage. Then I would slowly dance to the other side where I would meet Julie for a duet. Gina was to enter behind us and cross to the other side of the stage. Pretty simple stuff. We rehearsed it that way – every day – with no problems. Comes the first performance. I made my entrance, started across the stage – and here comes Gina – early – and aiming right at me. We’re on a collision course! No!!!! To miss her, I quickly jumped off the stage (which luckily was about three feet high from the audience), ran a few steps past a couple of surprised audience members, jumped back up onto the stage and met Julie to dance our duet. After the performance I went to talk to Gina and asked her to be aware of her timing and space. The next show came and she did exactly the same thing – which found me once again running through the audience in self preservation. Again, I talked to her after the show and asked her to be aware of my presence on stage. The third show came. This time I decided to be smart about the whole thing. I was going to make my entrance on stage a bit earlier. That way – I’d be able to get across the stage before Gina came on. Would you believe that Gina came out even earlier? Yep – aiming right at me. Once again – I found myself jumping off the stage to miss her. That was it – I had had it. “Gina,” I said to her after the show, “If you are terminally stupid – just tell me. Because if you are THAT stupid at least I’ll know enough to watch out for you.” “Hmm?” said Gina.
OK – I will admit that by this point I (along with several other dancers) had had enough of the Gina Factor. Talking to Harold was useless. Every time someone would bring up the possibility of letting Gina go – Harold always said, “She has something special about her.” Well yeah – try no brain. We went back to rehearsals for Harold’s newest work. Gina, Julie and I were cast together – yet again. OK – now before I go on with the rest of this story – I have to admit that my behaviour wasn’t exactly stellar. In my own defense – Julie was egging me on – which really isn’t an excuse. No – I was just being a little shit. Gina had problems remembering movement sequences. Every single day – she asked me to show her the steps and every single day – I did – for about two weeks. She never got it. My patience was wearing thin. One day when she asked me to go over the steps – yet again – I showed her a completely different movement sequence. For some unknown reason – she actually remembered this. When we began to run our section of Harold’s work – Julie and I did the original steps while Gina did my version. Harold stopped the rehearsal and yelled at her. Gina blinked at him with a confused look and said, “But that’s what Debbie told me to do.” I shrugged at Harold innocently and didn’t say a word. You develop your own coping mechanisms when dealing with the Gina Factor. Julie used to stand at the back of the studio and count how many stupid questions Gina would ask per rehearsal. We kept a running tally: twelve on Monday, thirty-two on Tuesday, etc. The great irony of all of this is that Gina is now considered a dance expert. Yep – some university actually hired her to teach. Like I said before – intelligence and advancement don’t always go together. Hmmm.