Dave's Rating:


That's right. Zero stars. See it now!

You have no idea how brutal the Child Protective Services-eluding underground world of extreme dance battling nine year-olds can be until you experience it yourself. Apparently, the epicenter of this nocturnal arena of headband-wearing Spartans is the pitch black alley behind this one strip mall in Long Beach -- home of hip-hop legend Snoop Dogg and also that one lady that Hilary Swank played in the movie about gangsta's paradise-level kids learning the art of creative writing -- and it is there the dance battle demimonde meets up every night, homework be damned, the nine-year-olds showing off their best moves, crew versus crew, competing for the only things that matter on those mean streets: turf rights, respect, honor, juice boxes and who knows what other intangible badges of status and cred.

Not that you'll ever find yourself there. It's a secret society with its own rules. Rules nobody ever explains. And if you have to ask what they are then you're not invited. The cops are scared of this world. There is no law.

Okay, actually, there are several laws: 1. No Electric Slide. 2. Be an orphan or at least a former crack baby. 3. Bring your own track or else the young girl DJ, also nine, will play "It Takes Two" by Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock, which is a song older than your absentee parents. 4. Travel in feral packs and start fights in quaint local brunch spots. 5. Threaten adults with assault. 6. Question the English-speaking abilities of people pretentious enough to use multi-syllabic words in your presence. 7. Be illogical at all times during your narrative arc, one that strives for the coherence of The Mighty Ducks but winds up spinning off into the surreal territory of Standing Ovation, which was only the most recent brain-scorching entry into the about-to-blow-up-huge genre of Musicals Featuring Casts Populated Entirely By Megalomaniacal (And Frequently Violent) Children.

Oh, you want to know more about the story? Of course you do. That's because you're a wannabe. An interloper. A person old enough to buy cigarettes. I just said Mighty Ducks didn't I? What part of that did you not get? This one guy has to perform community service by teaching some kids how to dance and also how to believe in themselves and their dreams. But this movie isn't about story anyway, son. This is about keeping it real, about feeling all your skull bones -- however many of those there are, like it matters, THIS ISN'T MATH CLASS! -- growing thicker and more durable with each passing moment of film. It's cinema of the camera-shakiest order, 115 minutes that will alter your perception of reality. Prepare to be monumentally dubstepped or prepare to go home, for it is almost way past your bedtime.


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