How one white girl found her groove

How are your hips these days? Do they rotate, swivel, slither like a separate appendage you can just detach and unleash onto the dance floor? If the answer is "huh?" then see "Save the Last Dance" for a demonstration. It takes something like this film to make you realize that whoever invented the word "hip-hop" knew what he was talking about, except it's much more than hips hopping. It's hips doing things so, uh, sexy, that in comparison mere sex starts to look like photocopying or attending a marketing conference and gazing at figures on an overhead projector.

"Save the Last Dance," however, is not one of those dance movies that leave you feeling uncoordinated, inadequate and fat -- it escapes the cliche of dance movies, since the lead actress is a little bit of all these things. And yet she hip-hops anyway and also gets a supercute guy in the process. This, in my book, is what movies should be about. If only more directors realized this truth and used a little less of J-Lo and Penelope Cruz and more of, say, Rosie O'Donnell (no offense to Rosie) in a steamy love affair with George Clooney, the world will be a better place.

At the center of this picture is Julia Stiles -- a fresh, blonde actress who is perfectly cast. She plays Sara, a wannabe prima ballerina living with a devoted single mom who comes to all her performances and auditions. On the day she tries out for Julliard, however, mom dies in a car accident. Sara blames herself and resolves to give up dancing -- forever.