It’s 3:00pm. I’m drinking a glass of red wine and watching the sequel to Center Stage. I’m not finished with the credits yet, but it feels remarkably like the Step It Up movies, and I’m left wondering who is going to utter the immortal words: “I am the best goddamn dancer in the American Ballet Academy. Who the hell are you? Nobody.”
Spoiler alert: Bad news, kids. Cooper’s dance company went under due to lack of funds, so he’s back being snarky about ballerinas and technique (though now I’m only about 2 minutes into the movie—things could change).
Clearly, this is why I quit my job. I could have been left without ever knowing this movie existed. God bless Netflix.
Also, pointe shoes on carpet…never a good idea.
Not that I just found that out. Because I didn’t. And that would have been silly. So, I didn’t.
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