Directed by Emily Schuman
Runtime: 15 minutes

by Melissa Strong, Contributor

The documentary short When I'm Her combines dance and drag–two of my favorite things–to explore the healing power of self-expression. Emily Schuman’s directorial debut follows former professional dancer Michael Cusumano, a child prodigy who joined American Ballet Theatre at age 15. (ABT is a really big deal. One word: Baryshnikov.) Over 25 years at ABT, Cusumano danced in full-length classical ballets such as Swan Lake as well as works by contemporary choreographers like Twyla Tharp. He seemed destined to become a star, but Cusumano crumbled under the relentless pressure, criticism, and hyperscrutiny of professional dance.

When I’m Her reveals how Cusumano found healing in developing an alter ego, Madame Olga, which he uses to teach others about dance and self-esteem. Only 15 minutes long, the doc is effective and moving. I would have gladly watched at least four times more of Olga, Cusumano, and footage of the transcendent young dancer he was, with adorable commentary from his present-day self and his boyfriend.

As Cusumano explains, his professional career brought “amazing memories” as well as toxic perfectionism that shattered his self-esteem. It’s dismaying to hear his brief, offhand description of receiving a disparaging remark about the shape of his thigh. I knew female dancers from Gelsey Kirkland to Misty Copeland (both ABT alums) faced this kind of destructive body shaming. And seeing pre-professional student performances at the Rock School in the before times reminded me that the idealized ballerina body remains painfully thin despite the need for incredible strength and endurance. However, willful naiveté blinded me to the fact that male dancers also face expectations to achieve an impossible ideal.

Cusumano took back his power and agency when he became Madame Olga, a cartoonish Russian ballet instructor who wears colorful leotards and skirts, a sequined turban, and drag-inspired makeup. As Olga, he teaches ballet to young people, combining instruction in form with lessons about self-esteem. Cusumano disappears into his alter ego, and footage shows Madame Olga enthusiastically encouraging young dancers in the studio. At the end of class, Olga shares maxims about compassion and kindness: “If you love yourself,” she explains, “You won’t hurt yourself, and you won’t hurt other people.” The kids look slightly chagrined, just as I would at their age despite desperately needing to hear a message like Olga’s.

Sure, it gets a little schmaltzy, but so does drag. When I'm Her also includes the familiar drag trope of showing Cusumano becoming Madame Olga and transforming back into himself. It works because most of us still need reminders that gender is a continuum as well as a performance. Equally important, not everyone realizes that such performances can be empowering and liberatory. Madame Olga offers Cusumano a safe way to participate in dance and to process past trauma, and When I’m Her highlights the freedom and wholeness we can find through becoming someone else.