It takes two to tango but everyone is welcome to try

A festival devoted to the sensuous dance begins tomorrow. Jo Kerrigan puts her dancing shoes on — and gives it a whirl

I know the tango from the movie Scent of a Woman. That sinuous, sensuous twosome, where the man and woman seem glued together, yet challenge each other with every step, his machismo equalled by her arrogance. The fifth Cork Tango Festival opens tomorrow at the Montenotte Hotel. It is a weekend of creative classes, demonstrations, and a grand festival ball where everyone shows off. The festival is organised by the Cork Argentine Tango Society, who are bringing in top teacher/dancers so that participants can, to paraphrase the movie, just once, drive a Ferrari rather than a Ford Fiesta.

That’s what Aileen Griffin, festival director, says as she suggests I come along to one of their introductory classes before writing this article. How, she asks, can such a spectacular form be described by someone who hasn’t tried it?

Aileen has a point. Which is how I find myself in the grand ballroom at the Gresham Metropole hotel, watching other apprehensive students, of all ages, arriving for the beginning of a new term. Beginners have an hour first, followed by intermediates, and then experienced dancers, while the evening rounds off with an exuberant hour of ‘practica’, where you can try out your new skills.

These classes are taught by Marion Krauthaker and Enrique Ringa, one of the most spectacular tango couples on the international circuit. Enrique trained in Buenos Aires and then travelled worldwide with professional shows.

It was on a tour of Ireland that he met Frenchwoman Marion, who had trained in classical ballet and theatre. It was an encounter that changed both their lives. Soon, she was as much in love with tango as he was, and became the partner he had dreamed of finding. Now, they make their home in Galway and participate in tango events across Europe.

Slim, confident, with perfect poise and that arrogant tilt to the head which seems essential for this dance form, this pair makes you nervous just watching them take to the floor in a quick introductory demonstration. I look at my fellow students to see their response.

Horror: the women are all shedding their sensible footwear and slipping on terrifying sandals with at least six-inch heels. Suddenly, they too are transformed into sultry, sinuous vamps.

Now, I understand that swaying, wiggling walk. How else could you move in shoes like that? Even the men (who have lost at least six inches of height advantage) are straightening themselves up, lifting their chins, acquiring a little of that tango magic.

This is woman in all her allure, flaunting herself dramatically, while, at the same time, pretending to ignore the sultry promise of her ferociously male partner. Looks like the modern-day take on independent female thinking isn’t much in vogue for the tango, right? Too right.

As we take our partners, Marion lays down the ground rules. “Ladies, stop thinking for yourself. Wait to feel what your partner wants you to do, and then follow him, absolutely. Let him guide you,” she says. She shimmers docilely in Enrique’s masterful arms, echoing his every move perfectly.

“Gentlemen, it is for you to show your woman what you wish her to do. For now, at least, she has no mind of her own. She only wants to follow you,” Marion says. There is the distinct sound of gulping from the feminists among us, but the male chests are thrown out, and a light comes into masculine eyes hitherto subjugated by Irish female confidence. We are in a different world.

As the class progresses, so do the moves. “Slide forward, keep your foot on tiptoe,” says Marion. “Put your hand to the back of his head. Now tilt back and look at him.” Instinctively, I smile at my partner and he responds, but then, hastily, we recollect ourselves and assume challenging, proud expressions. No easy giving way here, it’s a duel to the end.

A duel of the oldest game in the world, it gradually becomes clear, the dance of male and female, will you, will I, shall we? In today’s environment, we pride ourselves on being pretty much the same. We play the same sports, reach for the same heights, demand the same pay for the same jobs. Dancing the tango, though, is all about delighting in opposites, celebrating the unique difference between man and woman.

The man arrogantly leads, directs — but the woman flashes a long leg and curls it suggestively around his knee in a movement that would never have got past the parish priest in a 1950s Irish dancehall. They both know their own power.

The end-of-evening dancing session is well under way as I leave, musing over the fact that you really can see the lure of this sensuous technique.

People of all ages (the Tango Society’s oldest member is a sprightly gentleman of 93) take on a new grace, a new confidence. Could it be possible that the old ways were best after all? Shocked at this traitorous thought, I hurry home — studiously avoiding snatched glimpses of stiletto heels in shop windows.

* Cork Tango Festival takes place at the Montenotte Hotel, April 13-15; www.corktangofestival.com