In an age when movies sentimentalise children to an almost grotesque degree it's a relief to see a boy acting as a boy, rather than as a guide to how we should feel about the adults in charge of him. (Of all Hollywood's manipulative tendencies, this is currently the worst). You Can Count On Me doesn't tie up its narrative with a cute bow, either; one gets a sense that these lives we've just spent time with will go on in their confused and unsatisfactory way, much as life itself will.The last scene is a small masterpiece of unarticulated feeling, which I'm afraid I watched through a salt blur. It offers nothing so obvious as a lesson, but enlarges our view of family ties; a brother and sister have got to know each other a little better - she isn't such a square, he isn't such a deadbeat. And the pleasure of this outstanding film is that we're allowed to make the discovery for ourselves.. Six-thirty in the morning is an unusual time for dancers to be taking class, but the day of the annual competition of the Paris Opéra Ballet is an unusual occasion, and one on which careers depend. From 8am until after 6pm, in the grand but half-empty auditorium of the Palais Garnier, they will take turns performing solos before a jury, and this will win some of them promotion.

There is a small invited audience, mostly professionals, but strictly no applause. Everything is very formal, including the announcement of each dancer's name and chosen solo. To increase the intensity of a day that is fraught as well as arduous, some had been performing until 9.50pm the previous evening, when the curtain came down on a programme of four works by Jerome Robbins, and as soon as the competition is over preparations begin for another performance starting at 7.30pm. That schedule does not leave too much time in between for taking off or putting on make-up, changing, eating, getting home and back, not to mention sleeping Six-thirty in the morning is an unusual time for dancers to be taking class, but the day of the annual competition of the Paris Opéra Ballet is an unusual occasion, and one on which careers depend. From 8am until after 6pm, in the grand but half-empty auditorium of the Palais Garnier, they will take turns performing solos before a jury, and this will win some of them promotion.

There is a small invited audience, mostly professionals, but strictly no applause. Everything is very formal, including the announcement of each dancer's name and chosen solo. To increase the intensity of a day that is fraught as well as arduous, some had been performing until 9.50pm the previous evening, when the curtain came down on a programme of four works by Jerome Robbins, and as soon as the competition is over preparations begin for another performance starting at 7.30pm. That schedule does not leave too much time in between for taking off or putting on make-up, changing, eating, getting home and back, not to mention sleeping. If it's such a strain, why bother? Thereby hangs a tale This competition is almost unique to the Paris Opéra Ballet.

I know of only one other company, the Belgian Ballet de Wallonie, that has copied it And yet the idea is well considered and valuable. It was devised, as long ago as 1860, by the internationally celebrated former ballerina Marie Taglioni, the greatest star of her time (creator of La Sylphide among other roles), who was then teaching the "class of perfection" in the company, together with Bernard Sciot, head of the ballet school. The aim was quite simply to have a clear, open and fair system of promotion, without fear or favouritism.Each year, any permanent member of the Paris Opéra Ballet wanting promotion to leading dancer, soloist or coryphée (a kind of demi-soloist) can apply to take part More than half of them do so. This year, men appeared in the morning, women in the afternoon. They are divided into groups according to their present rank, starting with the lowest (quadrilles) and working up.