THE break-dancing documen tary “Planet B-Boy” proves that what might be (but probably isn’t) worth five minutes of your time while you’re passing through the Times Square subway station really isn’t worth a 11/2-hour movie.
The movie is an exaltation of banality that follows b-boys, or break dancers working in teams, from Korea, Japan, France and Las Vegas through something called the (2005) “Battle of the Year,” a contest in Germany so renowned that its total prize money for all winners is $3,000.
The dancers, about whom we learn little, share with us their deeply vague insights. In the case of the foreigners, these may not have been much to begin with; in translation, though, they sound like toddlers’ musings: “I started to become more aware of my identity and other ways of thinking “It was a tough year for us all. We argued the most within our team that year just because we wanted to win “We’re gonna show what the dance is all about “I want to have a great time dancing while expecting to win.”
Meanwhile, we watch a stupefying series of scenes of young men jumping around and spinning on their skulls in an effort to become tomorrow’s semi-visible backup dancers in music videos. At 95 minutes, “Planet B-Boy” seemed longer than “The Godfather: Part II.”
Running time: 95 minutes. Not rated (profanity). At the Sunshine, 143 E. Houston St.