C ME DANCE Faith-based films have made great strides in the past decade or so, from mainstream stars like Mel Gibson and Kirk Cameron giving passion projects a boost to evangelicals like Matthew Crouch becoming more savvy about the ins and outs of studio production. And yet, if any movie could undo all that progress in one fell swoop, it’s C Me Dance, an overwrought piece of (apparently) unintentional camp that, if it is remembered at all, will be only because some low-brow cinephile chooses to place it on a drunken rep-house double-bill with Tommy Wiseau’s The Room. Written, produced, directed by and starring “veteran” Greg Robbins (Pastor Greg), who has fewer movies on his IMDB profile than I do and whose filmmaking career seems to stretch back all of four years, C Me Dance plays like a fake Christian movie Troy McClure might end up starring in on an episode of The Simpsons, though it’s apparently for real. When high school ballerina Sheri (Christina DeMarco) is diagnosed with the world’s most flattering case of leukemia (no chemo or wasting away for this cancer girl!), her devastation quickly subsides as the power of the Lord descends, giving Sheri the ability to communicate telepathically, and in turn causing anybody she touches to hallucinate an image of the nails driven into Christs hands. This naturally angers Satan (Peter Kent), who appears as a paunchy guy in a trenchcoat, who sometimes forgets to put his monster-eye contacts in. But Sheri and her dad (Robbins) cleverly counter the Devil ... by evangelizing on TV! Had Trinity Broadcasting Network come up with this feature in 1980, it would have been easier to sympathize with its flaws. In 2009, its hilarious ineptitude makes it border on becoming a cult classic for the ages ... and we’re not talking religious cult. (Fallbrook 7) (Luke Y. Thompson)
PARIS 36 Assault by relentless accordion-playing, Paris 36 proves that sometimes, imitation is the highest form of flatulence. Christophe Barratier follows up his equally pandering The Chorus (2004) with an aggressively nostalgic, tinny homage to French musicals of the 1930s and ’40s. To distract viewers from the film’s shallowness and the fact that his honey-haired ingénue (Nora Arnezeder) has no charisma, Barratier, who also wrote the screenplay, frantically shifts from one subplot to the next: A tatty music hall operated by mugging Parisian proles closes and reopens twice; Popular Front–era strike organizers contend with anti-Semitic thugs and the rise of fascism; a moppet is taken from his father; the comely chanteuse must whore herself to the gangster kingpin; and the show must go on — but when it does, you want the curtain to come down immediately. Though Paris 36 looks pretty (it was lensed by frequent Eastwood cinematographer Tom Stern), Barratier’s version of “Frenchness” is nonsite-specific, Euro playground; 90 percent of the film was shot in the Czech Republic. Like Amélie’s scrubbed-up City of Light, Paris 36 is an antiseptic arthouse trifle, so eager to soothe that it only numbs. (Royal; Playhouse 7; Town Center 5) (Melissa Anderson)
SKILLS LIKE THIS Monty Miranda’s Skills Like This boasts the distinction of being the first film produced in Colorado to be picked up for distribution. A quirky, Sundance-lite comedy, Skills Like This took home an Audience Award at 2007’s SXSW, maybe because Miranda makes Denver look like your average college slacker town, where meaningful jobs don’t exist and everyone convenes at Señor Burrito’s for endless chips and salsa. Three guys in particular are regulars: Max (Spencer Berger), a playwright who’s just realized he’s no good; Tommy (Brian D. Phelan), a loutish loudmouth; and timid Dave (Gabriel Tigerman), whose office job and girlfriend look like staggering accomplishments compared to his friends’ lack thereof. Having just witnessed his latest play collapse, on a whim, Max robs the bank across the street and discovers that robbery’s the only thing he’s good at. And it’s at this point — not 15 minutes in — that Skills morphs from a stylishly shot slacker-comedy to an obnoxious quirk-fest. The trio — Max as the Ben Stiller nebbish type, Tommy as the Will Ferrell, Dave as the Michael Cera — are appealing enough, but Skills thinks it’s far more magically whimsical than it really is. Instead of an ode to jump-starting your life, it just proves that Denver isn’t too far from Happy, Texas. (Sunset 5; Playhouse 7) (Vadim Rizov)
GO SUGAR Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck have transformed some of the most clichéd genres with smarts, nonscreechy politics, superb acting, and visual beauty. Half Nelson — their 2006 feature debut about a white middle-class basehead who teaches poor African-American kids — is free of Dangerous Minds–like hooey. Sugar tackles even hoarier terrain: the sports movie and the immigrant story. While certainly diamond-specific, Sugar is less about America’s pastime than the fallacies of the American dream. Miguel “Sugar” Santos (the remarkable nonprofessional actor Algenis Perez Soto), a 19-year-old star pitcher in the Dominican Republic, impresses a gringo talent scout with his curveball and is invited to spring training in Phoenix, quickly advancing to a single-A team in Iowa. In the States, Sugar grows increasingly isolated by language and Corn Belt custom. Fleck and Boden capture certain believable heartland specifics: a racist scuffle in a club, misunderstood signals from a church-group-leading teenager, and a fluid, back-of-the-head long take as Sugar ambles through several different neon-nightmare video arcades. It’s no spoiler to say that Sugar doesn’t lead his team to victory. In their subversion of “inspirational” genres, Boden and Fleck don’t want us to be any less moved by the struggles of their protagonists. They simply insist that tidy redemptions have no place in a complicated world. (ArcLight Hollywood; Playhouse 7; Town Center 5) (Melissa Anderson)
