To make matters worse, the movie was a cheesy morality tale about the evils of an oil company that drills in Alaska. Sounds bad, we know, but that's just the beginning. In order to better fight the corporate evildoers, Seagal shacks up with an Eskimo tribe and learns to paint with all the colors of the wind. He even goes on a spirit quest where he rejects a "sexy Eskimo temptress," because how in the hell else are we going to take down Big Oil?
Eventually, the real Steve comes out and kills everyone, but it's cool -- the epilogue tells us he got away with it because the courts decided that he drowned that oil executive in a tub of crude in self-defense. Obviously.
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"He was falling right toward me!"
16 percent on Rotten Tomatoes
If you haven't seen this dance flick, you've likely at least seen one of the half a dozen parodies of it. Hard kids from the streets of LA compete in illicit dance battles instead of shooting each other, because that's totally an option in most crime-ridden neighborhoods. Unfortunately, D batteries to run that boombox don't grow on trees, so the dancers have to deal drugs to raise cash to keep their dance battles going.
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Dealing drugs actually seems more ethical than whatever is going on here.
At one point, the "crew" the audience is supposed to like loses to a different crew because they unexpectedly have to dance at night. They redeem themselves in a final dance battle after declaring it to be "straight hood," meaning no rules. Except, we're assuming, the rule about no dancing at night. Inexplicably, this shit sandwich topped the box office the first week it opened, helped in no small part by the fact that it was released on Super Bowl weekend, when the only people who aren't glued to their television are those who love the art of dance.
Kathy Benjamin
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