Blame Michael Flatley for this post-Riverdance documentary about hoofing children heading to Glasgow for the 40th Irish Dancing World Championships, each with hopes of becoming the year’s finest high-kicker.
Yet while it’s easy to sneer at the tweens and their scary parents, you can’t ignore their dedication to their dying art, nor their kinetic energy.
Ping-ponging between Ireland, Holland, Russia and Essex, Sue Bourne’s pic could have used clarifying narration.
Once the contest begins, though, her film’s as gripping as Spellbound and as enjoyably kitsch as Eurovision.
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