"Mad Hot Ballroom"is a valentine to New York City public school kids.
As a parent of such kids, I immediately fell in love with the film and that was even before three-quarters through "some school in Queens" in the ballroom dancing competition turned out to be my neighborhood school five blocks away (though my younger son only attended it for three kindergarten days 16 years ago before I switched him to a school where he wasn't the only kid in his class speaking English) -- no wonder the film has played at my neighborhood art house for six weeks.
In a school system starved for arts education, particularly music and dance--whereas in my NJ suburban school our winter gym classes were traditional square dancing, my older son's school only had an annual dance festival consisting of a couple of mostly simplified folk dance routines-- the film also salutes the young and the experienced, dedicated teachers and principals who get swept up in their students' progress and the competition (though their self-serving claims of how the dancing transformed specific "at-risk" kids has to be taken with some grains of salt as we see only tiny evocations and parent reactions to back-up such dramatic changes).
What the film does beautifully is demonstrate the glorious diversity of our public schools, by race--with all shades of white, black, Asian, and Hispanic-- class, national origin and language, with the schools serving now as the melting pot cauldron they did for immigrants and native-born kids a hundred years ago. The specific ballroom dances selected for the competition that have entered the American popular culture pantheon for social occasions dovetail nicely with the kids' sense of national pride as well -- the merengue from the Dominican Republic; the rhumba from Cuba; the pop-based foxtrot; and swing that grew out of African-American traditions. The sexualized aspect of moving their bodies "downstairs" is certainly far less than they get from MTV and is presented as a formal choreography.
While the kids comfortably express their thoughts in front of the cameras --they are just at the age before embarrassment and insecurities take over--about the opposite sex, their families, their futures and their neighborhoods, most of the social and political issues about public education are inferred indirectly. At the Washington Heights school where most of the kids are from the Dominican Republic, the case for bilingual education and the importance of having role models from the same culture is reinforced as the principal and the male dance teacher move easily back and forth between Spanish and English like the kids, which is particularly helpful for drawing out more recent immigrants (or because, as a friend of mine who teaches in the neighborhood says local tradition has the kids going back and forth to the island frequently).
The film spends most of its time in this Upper Manhattan neighborhood (pulling your heart strings to root for them over all the other teams), from the visuals of the housing, families, merchants, statistics about poverty and casual commentary on drug dealing, much more than the school in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn that we quickly have to perceive as working class, and Tribeca in Lower Manhattan, with its scarily articulate middle class kids (though we are told for some sympathy that the program started in that school partly as a morale booster after they were finally able to return to their school post-9/11 and we see them move on to band practice). All three schools, as well as my Forest Hills, Queens school which is included even more superficially, are shown as racially diverse. The lack of more context would probably be confusing for non-New Yorkers or long-time expatriates who aren't up on the current diversity of the city's neighborhoods.
In addition to the usual bromides about discipline and etiquette as a justification for the program, the class and gender issues about dance education as an expression for talent and opening up horizons vs. as a competition are dealt with very well. As the parent of two very active public school debaters, which also is structured as individual achievement within a mutually reinforcing team format, I do see that competition keeps boys involved in a non-athletic activity focused.
For all the sturm und drang from the losers ("We did everything we were told to do!") and their emotional teacher, it is useful that the film carries through to the finals, as it is striking when we see the best kids, to let talent and hard work shine (we saw the winners put in hours of extra after-school practice time). While there's another fleeting touching moment as we see them come out of the subway to walk past Ground Zero to get to the World Financial Center, the filmmakers wisely resist interviewing the noted judges there, including choreographers Ann Reinking and Graciela Daniele, for what would probably be platitudes.
Stay through the final credits and cute song, as not only do the filmmakers graciously acknowledge everyone involved in the program and on screen, the kids' discussions charmingly continue.
As a parent of such kids, I immediately fell in love with the film and that was even before three-quarters through "some school in Queens" in the ballroom dancing competition turned out to be my neighborhood school five blocks away (though my younger son only attended it for three kindergarten days 16 years ago before I switched him to a school where he wasn't the only kid in his class speaking English) -- no wonder the film has played at my neighborhood art house for six weeks.
In a school system starved for arts education, particularly music and dance--whereas in my NJ suburban school our winter gym classes were traditional square dancing, my older son's school only had an annual dance festival consisting of a couple of mostly simplified folk dance routines-- the film also salutes the young and the experienced, dedicated teachers and principals who get swept up in their students' progress and the competition (though their self-serving claims of how the dancing transformed specific "at-risk" kids has to be taken with some grains of salt as we see only tiny evocations and parent reactions to back-up such dramatic changes).
What the film does beautifully is demonstrate the glorious diversity of our public schools, by race--with all shades of white, black, Asian, and Hispanic-- class, national origin and language, with the schools serving now as the melting pot cauldron they did for immigrants and native-born kids a hundred years ago. The specific ballroom dances selected for the competition that have entered the American popular culture pantheon for social occasions dovetail nicely with the kids' sense of national pride as well -- the merengue from the Dominican Republic; the rhumba from Cuba; the pop-based foxtrot; and swing that grew out of African-American traditions. The sexualized aspect of moving their bodies "downstairs" is certainly far less than they get from MTV and is presented as a formal choreography.
While the kids comfortably express their thoughts in front of the cameras --they are just at the age before embarrassment and insecurities take over--about the opposite sex, their families, their futures and their neighborhoods, most of the social and political issues about public education are inferred indirectly. At the Washington Heights school where most of the kids are from the Dominican Republic, the case for bilingual education and the importance of having role models from the same culture is reinforced as the principal and the male dance teacher move easily back and forth between Spanish and English like the kids, which is particularly helpful for drawing out more recent immigrants (or because, as a friend of mine who teaches in the neighborhood says local tradition has the kids going back and forth to the island frequently).
The film spends most of its time in this Upper Manhattan neighborhood (pulling your heart strings to root for them over all the other teams), from the visuals of the housing, families, merchants, statistics about poverty and casual commentary on drug dealing, much more than the school in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn that we quickly have to perceive as working class, and Tribeca in Lower Manhattan, with its scarily articulate middle class kids (though we are told for some sympathy that the program started in that school partly as a morale booster after they were finally able to return to their school post-9/11 and we see them move on to band practice). All three schools, as well as my Forest Hills, Queens school which is included even more superficially, are shown as racially diverse. The lack of more context would probably be confusing for non-New Yorkers or long-time expatriates who aren't up on the current diversity of the city's neighborhoods.
In addition to the usual bromides about discipline and etiquette as a justification for the program, the class and gender issues about dance education as an expression for talent and opening up horizons vs. as a competition are dealt with very well. As the parent of two very active public school debaters, which also is structured as individual achievement within a mutually reinforcing team format, I do see that competition keeps boys involved in a non-athletic activity focused.
For all the sturm und drang from the losers ("We did everything we were told to do!") and their emotional teacher, it is useful that the film carries through to the finals, as it is striking when we see the best kids, to let talent and hard work shine (we saw the winners put in hours of extra after-school practice time). While there's another fleeting touching moment as we see them come out of the subway to walk past Ground Zero to get to the World Financial Center, the filmmakers wisely resist interviewing the noted judges there, including choreographers Ann Reinking and Graciela Daniele, for what would probably be platitudes.
Stay through the final credits and cute song, as not only do the filmmakers graciously acknowledge everyone involved in the program and on screen, the kids' discussions charmingly continue.