Honey (or, "Getting to the top with nothing but dippy optimism")

Have you ever had a dream? A goal? A passion? These people sure have. We are referring, of course, to the main characters in such dance-themed films as Flashdance, Take the Lead, Dance With Me, Step Up, Stomp the Yard, Center Stage, Dirty Dancing, and of course, Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights. With a new entry to this questionable genre appearing in theaters seemingly every week, it's awfully easy to dismiss these movies as interchangeable fluff that should have gone straight to TV or DVD. The formula is clear: a lovable protagonist with a dream, some raw talent, a disapproving parent, a little adversity, and presto! Attractive young people make it on their own terms and/or gain new self-respect after landing on the wrong side of the law.

These movies generally equate the odds of becoming a dancer with the odds of becoming the first human to walk on Pluto, so high are the stakes. "I just want to dance." "Yeah? Well, so do a lot of people." Dance movies necessarily involve such florid, unironic dialogue, and that's part of their charm. What viewer hasn't been delighter by Peter Gallagher's inspiring speeches in Center Stage, underscoring the passion and heartbreak of trying to make it as a dancer despite the physical rigors and emotional pitfalls? For that matter, what viewer doesn't relish that moment in every dance movie where you turn to a friend and whisper, "Peter Gallagher [or similar] is in this?!" What viewer doesn't eagerly await the climactic performance epitomizing all the hard work we've witnessed, attended at the last minute by a disapproving parent?

And then there's Honey.

The supremely talentless Jessica Alba plays Honey Daniels, the world's happiest bartender, as she navigates the mean streets of New York City while trying to make it as a hip-hop dancer. Honey also teaches a hip-hop class at "the center," a YMCA-type building owned by her mother, who strangely disapproves of Honey's desire to be a hip-hop dancer. When Honey's mad skills catch the eye of a major music video director, she is faced with the challenge of making it, but on her own terms. Along the way, Honey adopts a group of kids from her tough neighborhood and tries to hitch their wagon to her rising star. Also, Missy Elliott abuses her driver.

Truly, enough can never be said regarding Jessica Alba's astoundingly flat line readings. Alba's performance is, in fact, flatter than the Maldives. She is also armed with exactly one facial expression, and that is of sunny, wooden delight. Growing up in a bad neighborhood has clearly had zilch effect on Honey, as the dippy smile pasted on her face wavers on momentarily in the face of actual hardship experienced by those around her. Having a good attitude about a bad situation is one thing; HoneyBot 3000 is another matter entirely. Indeed, while Honey's speech patterns seem technically "ghetto," her pronunciation calls to mind what an alien race might guess our language sounded like in theory.

From a plot perspective, almost nothing about Honey makes sense. Honey rises to fame shortly after the movie begins, preventing anyone involved from dealing with more than 15 minutes of icky struggle of any kind. After coasting along for a while, the central conflict of the film -- Honey's mentor hits on her and blackballs her from the business when she turns him down -- doesn't reveal itself until the movie is practically over. By then, however, Honey has already made a huge name for herself and could surely get a job for herself anyway, which she then proceeds to do, minutes after she's been blackballed from the industry forever. Somehow, though, Honey is still broke and struggles to raise money for a new "centah" to keep troubled kids off the streets. And how better to raise money than a dance benefit!

But, you may be saying, it's not the plot that matters in a dance movie, or even the acting, but rather the dancing itself. This is certainly true, and thus Honey's biggest failing is revealed: the dancing sucks. Though Jessica Alba is a moderately better at dancing than acting (though she is most likely better at reading shape notes than acting), the dance sequences are so inert and ill-choreographed that you may find yourself wishing you were watching a good Pussycat Dolls video, as it would also feature a better plot. This is a surprise, considering Honey was directed by noted music video director Bille Woodruff, who has worked with some of the biggest names in music, none of whom show their faces here. But stay on the lookout for appearances by their C-list counterparts (Jadakiss, Ginuwine, Tweet) adding further verité to this project.

As for Missy Elliott's inexplicable cameo, we choose to believe she thought she was being Punk'd and wanted to be a good sport.

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