Gina Devine (Amy Conroy) looks ready to spit nails as she begins to tell the story of her life — a refreshing change from most one-person showmen, who are eager to trot out their pains in return for a nice dose of pity. Pity Gina and she’ll cut a bitch, and you’ve got to love her for it.

Love has been in short supply in Gina’s life, and at this stage, with a young daughter to raise, an abusive father to mind, and a rubbish boyfriend, she has a choice: sink or swim, or in her case, learn to dance, via lessons at the community centre. That she even knows she has a choice is stunning, because for inner city girls like her, it’s not privileged society that would love to see her fail, it’s her neighbours. After all, who does Gina think she is?

Conroy’s script errs on the side of too many storylines, but her performance of it is so compelling, and so beautifully directed by Veronica Coburn, we’ll let it off the dramaturgical hook, because Gina tells us some hard truths: it is incredibly difficult to change, and self-expression can hurt like hell. But to hell with us, she’s going to do it anyway, and we really hope she succeeds.

Susan Conley