This fly-one-the-wall style glimpse into the world of a ballet group successfully shows life both behind the scenes and on-stage.

To the audience, the overriding impression is one of grace, beauty and expression married to extreme physical skill.

However, when the lights go down the dancers are just like everybody else - they have their personal crises and fears while living a hand-to-mouth existence.

You can't really fault the authenticity Altman brings to the story and whether you like it pretty much depends on your tolerance levels of "courageous" luvvies.

In his favour, Altman doesn't deal in cliches although Malcolm McDowell's supercillious theatre director would win most Ham of the Year awards hands down.

Special mention must also go to Malcolm's yellow scarf - by the end you want to strangle him with it.

There's also a insufferable pompous French-Canadian playwright with a Michael Bolton barnet and grand designs for the group.

Cleverly, Altman makes these stereotpyes the targets of derision by the group itself so we join the players laughing at Malcolm.

There's a slight romantic storyline featuring former dancer Campbell (who got back into shape for the role after tens years "off pointe").

However, what is particularly strong is the shots of the dancers themselves - from practice in the rehearsal studio to the full-blown performance of The Blue Snake.

Perhaps one for the converted, this is never less than watchable if you fancy a pas de deux down the local picture house.

Tim Evans