Forever Tango hooks both father and son

A doctor and a doc-to-be dance around the world.
It's not always a source of gratification

By Elizabeth Wasserman

At 9:45 on a recent Wednesday night, Dr Chaim Shustik ducked into an inconspicuous doorway on Notre Dame Street in Montreal's Old Port and headed up the stairs to a small club called Studio Tango. After a long day conducting clinical trials for multiple myeloma therapies in Kingston, Ontario, most mortals would be headed for bed. But not the doctor: Wednesday is Montreal's number one tango night, and this hot-blooded hematologist was ready to dance.

He slipped out of his winter boots and into his dancing shoes and by 10 o'clock he was gliding across the floor alongside roughly 15 other couples. In his studiously stiffened arms was a woman he had danced with on previous Wednesdays, but whose name he couldn't quite recall. The place was hopping with an all-ages, multinational crowd with seemingly little in common apart from an obvious seriousness about the dance. The bartender, with his jet black hair, black nail polish, multiple large rings, and tight striped pants, looked something like Marilyn Manson without the makeup; word has it that he's an accomplished tango pianist. Between dances, Dr Shustik sips on an amber ale and comments enthusiastically on the action on the floor. "This fellow in the grey sweater is an absolutely perfect dancer, " he says, motioning toward a tall, boyish man steering his waif-like partner around the room in a relaxed manner without ever changing the position of his upper torso. "His partner is excellent as well. " What qualities does a man look for in a tango partner? The specialist ponders for a moment. "Suppleness, a small frame... and good breath, " he replies with a diabolical chuckle. Tango is undeniably a male-dominated dance, he adds, though the woman's skill is essential to the success of the pair.

His desire to dance was born, like so many similar dreams, on Broadway. Two years ago, he and his son, David, 21, attended a performance of Forever Tango and were so captivated that they made a pact to learn the dance themselves. As luck would have it, Montreal, Dr Shustik's hometown, is one of the tango capitals of North America. On any given night, one can find a milonga -- an Argentinean term for both a slower tango tempo and a tango venue -- somewhere in the city. Dr Shustik and son enrolled in a beginner's class and now practise religiously, week after week.

DOIN' THE ROBOT
The learning curve was steep. It was a full year before Dr Shustik could overcome his feeling of hopeless ineptitude and actually enjoy the rhythm of the dance. Most beginners don't make it that far. "The attrition rate is about four in five, " he estimates. "The ranks are decimated at the beginner level, but some persist. " Persistence pays in this pursuit, he says, for one does not have to have be a natural genius on the dance floor to attain competence in tango. "There's a certain robotic element to it -- a stylized, repetitive, formulaic quality, an intensity of learning, and a particular freedom at the same time, since you're not completely constrained by the rhythm. " Youth, however, does have an advantage. Dr Shustik notes that David, now a second- year medical student at McGill, surpassed him quickly.

Tango mixes handily with Dr Shustik's primary extra-curricular passion: world travel. Fervent devotees of the dance span the globe, and they have formed an international network of sorts, aided significantly by the internet. Travellers can seek haven in milongas wherever they roam. He's danced at a 17th-century tavern in Amsterdam, a studio in Madrid, and the edgy downtown Manhattan club, La Belle Epoque. Though Ilsa, his wife of 32 years, doesn't share his tango passion, Dr Shustik is never short of companionship on his pilgrimages. While travelling in Japan, he got in touch with a woman he'd met in a milonga in Montreal. A few days later, he found himself imbibing beer and sushi with her and her husband at an outdoor tango recital organized by a local aficionado in her hometown of Sapporo.

A year ago last December, he and his son went on a pilgrimage to Buenos Aires, the tango capital of the world. They stayed in the chic Belgrano district, at a guesthouse specifically geared toward tango enthusiasts, where they got the inside track on where the top milonga action could be found each night. They might as well have been in heaven.

The tango experience also inspired the light-footed physician to add Spanish to his already considerable repertoire of languages (including German, Yiddish, French, Italian and Russian). His purpose was to better understand the lyrics and culture of the dance, not, he emphasizes, to make conversation with his fellow dancers. There is no talking in tango. "It's a serious faux-pas to speak while you dance, " he explains. "Although occasionally, one will find oneself unable to refrain from singing along to one's favourite song, and that's acceptable, " he concedes. His personal favourite: "Que Te Importa Que Te Llore " ( "You don't care if I cry for you "). Tango music is the Argentine equivalent of the blues, with lyrics generally gloomy even when accompanied by upbeat rhythms.

The doctor's advice to other clinicians who might want to give tango a whirl? "It's not something to be approached whimsically. You can begin on a whim, but in order to get into it there is a certain intensity required. " Also, don't expect a joyride. "It's not a source of constant gratification, " he warns. "The joys of the dance occur intermittently. " That said, for anyone in need of a live consult, Dr Shustik can be found at the Studio Tango next Wednesday night.