Director Darren Aronofski puts down his razor blade, turns down the Cure, spits out a mouthful of vicodin, and refocuses his energy on a spunky feel good flick about the modern dance scene. It's like Flash Dance meets Coyote Ugly! It's like...what? Oh... She has soul-crushing emotional damage? She's crazy as fuck?.... She stabs herself to death? Nevermind...
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