Brandon rented Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights for me so I could decompress with a chick flick.
That was one of the worst movies I’ve seen this year. Acting was wooden. Story weak. Plot holes and left behind storyline galore. Diego Luna looks like he was 12, and Patrick Swayze looks like 2000 year old mummy. Damn, easy on the nipping and tucking there, boy-o!
But the dancing was great. The music would’ve been better without the any hip-hop fusions, but granted the Latin beat moved my feet nonetheless. Despite all of that, not enough redeeming quality for me to buy the DVD, but it makes me want to own the original movie even more.
Sela Ward, the mom in the movie, said something about giving up her dancing to have her kids was the most difficult thing to do. That’s kind of like me with music and dance. I’m not particularly spectacular in either, but to give them up would be like not living.
After thinking about it a bit, I understand myself a little better. Dancing is the extension of the music. I love music so dancing just comes naturally. Music and dancing are the 2 media I use to express myself: dance when I can’t make music, and make music when I can’t dance.
Wow. An epiphany. From Havana Nights. Shockingly pathetic, eh?