My friend pissed me off yesterday.

She went to see Mao’s Last Dancer and all she could do was complain about how different it was to the book.

Hello???

Were we watching the same movie?

Did she see his courage and sense of humour while struggling with a language he had only learned from a book.

She must have missed the drama of separation not only between lovers but from Cunxin’s homeland.

Did she miss the uber-dedication from his early years when he danced like an unhappy frog to soaring so gracefully he introduced us mortals to the world of the divine.

Sure there was the usual hype of blatant stereotyping of the communist regime but the story balanced that with the emotional reunion with his parents and his eventual return to his home village. Stirring stuff.

I guess it’s all in the way you want to look at things. My friend was wanting a replica of the awareness she enjoyed with the book. The movie did it differently - no book could portray the awesome talent and elegance of actually watching the choreography.

So expressively. Who needed words when he told his story?

And inspired others to do the same.

To tell your story with movement.

You don’t have to be a Li Cunxin to do that.

To show your lover you’re for real.

When did you last dance?

Here’s to lovin’ and learnin’.