The American
Ballroom Theater’s 10-week Dancing Classroom program teaches 7,000 fourth
through sixth graders from over 60 New York City public schools how to cut a
rug. The course culminates in an annual borough-spanning competition at the
World Financial Center in which five couples from a number of the participating
schools vie for the top prize. What do they win? Just one oversized trophy, 365
days’ worth of bragging rights, and an incalculable amount of self-esteem.

Marilyn Agrelo’s adorable documentary
Mad Hot Ballroom follows the dance
classes at three of the schools — Bensonhurst’s PS 112, Washington Heights’
PS 115, and TriBeCa’s PS 150 — as the students go from tiny oafs to graceful
young ladies and gentlemen. And of course the instruction is not just about the
dancing; it also has everything to do with teamwork, culture, confidence, and
dedication.

“It’s like a sport that hasn’t been
invented into a sport!”

The kids are curiously enthusiastic
about the decade-old dance program, which teaches them Latin (the merengue and
the rumba) and ballroom dance (the foxtrot, the tango, and the waltz), as well
as swing and line dancing. I know that when I was a kid and we square-danced in
gym class the notion of having to touch some cootie-laden nerd for 45 minutes
was not pleasant. But the children of Ballroom seem to have no such hang-ups — no one seems to care about their partner’s
body shape, skin color, or perceived hipness factor.

And the dance instructors are a
patient, passionate, and devoted bunch, understanding the need to make the
instruction both fun and relevant (the Washington Heights students are
primarily of Dominican descent, and so is the merengue). The teachers want to
win the year-end competition as much as the kids do, but more emphasis is
placed on the journey rather than the destination.

Ballroom doesn’t really get too in-depth with the home lives of the children, which I
didn’t find to be a flaw. These kids are Everykids, doing the things most kids
do (like warily observing the opposite gender) and saying the things most kids
would say (i.e., “It’s fun being 10!”). But by the time we get to the “Colors
of the Rainbow” matches in the film’s denouement, we’re thoroughly attached to
these children and our hearts alternately break and soar with those of the
now-poised young people. And the finale is as thrilling as “the big game” in
any clichรฉd sports movie — let’s just say that the filmmakers got awfully
lucky.

One nagging thought: Was I the only
person who got kind of uncomfortable watching 10-year-olds trying to master the
tango? These kids are at the crossroads between childhood and adolescence, and
listening to their teacher instruct them about that particular dance’s reliance
on passion and becoming one with your partner left me wondering how much of
that they could (or should) comprehend. Children get to be young for such a
short time. One of the girls announced, “When I’m big I’m gonna be in the mood
for boys,” and I crossed my fingers that that time wouldn’t come too soon.

The
only phrase that would cause me to avoid a movie faster than “Starring
Christina Ricci” is the phrase “Direct to video.” I’m sure some flicks were
never intended as domestic theatrical releases, banking on the fact that some
square-headed action star will generate big bucks in the foreign market and
five or six desperate Americans might snag the DVD at Blockbuster. But what
about a film like Control, which
stars acting heavyweights like Ray Liotta, Willem Dafoe, and Stephen Rea, and
is directed by a guy (Tim Hunter, who will be in town to present the film) with
episodes of Carnivale, Homicide: Life on the Street, and Twin Peaks under his belt? How bad could
it be?

It’s actually not that bad, and for
that you can thank the underrated and underemployed Liotta (the semi-trite
script, however, is not worthy of your gratitude). Liotta plays multiple
murderer Lee Ray Oliver, who chooses to receive an experimental course of
behavior-modifying drugs rather than the traditional lethal injection.
Conducting this trial is a kind-hearted neuropharmacologist named Dr. Copeland
(Willem Dafoe), the Pygmalion to Oliver’s Galatea. Copeland supervises Oliver’s
release into the wild, where the “textbook sociopath” attempts to assimilate
back into society, despite the fact that old scores need to be settled.

Control contains its share of suspense as it manipulates the audience on occasion. But
it’s Liotta’s riveting performance as a man who may or may not be making the
leap from rage to remorse that anchors the film, which tries to shine a light
on the wisdom of and need for mood-altering pharmaceuticals.

Mad Hot Ballroom (PG) opens at the
Little Theatre on Friday, June 24. | Control (R) screens Saturday, June
18, at the Dryden Theatre.

This article appears in Jun 15-21, 2005.