Dance Flick is the latest offering from the Wayans brothers' lowbrow comedy grindhouse. Aping the story of Save the Last Dance and filling out the middle with about-to-be-dated spoofs of Little Miss Sunshine, Twilight, Hairspray and High School Musical, the movie is all business in its execution: fill a loose, 90-minute story with lewd jokes, keep up the pace and what bits don't work will be as frequent as those that do.
Despite Museum's supposed family-friendliness, Dance Flick is more audience-oriented and engaging. Dance Flick's direction, by Damien Wayans (Damon's nephew), keeps the performances and gags strictly on script, which propels the audience quickly towards the inevitable conclusion. Museum, on the other hand, frequently allows its actors to goof and riff as far as they can under the G-rated circumstances. The wait for the end is excruciating.
Further, Dance Flick's performances are more risky and audacious than Museum. Despite the fact that Museum is chock-full of comedians, the performers don't give anything beyond their motor-mouths for a laugh. It makes them look like real chicken-shits next to Wayans' players, who don camel-toe pants, blackface, fat suits and fake, dangly tits (not all at the same time) and includes comics famous for their disregard of personal dignity, like Amy Sedaris, David Allan Grier, Chris Elliot and the Wayans clan.
Next to Night at the Museum's torturous pace and maddening indulgence, Dance Flick has to be admired as more successful in its aims. The movie is occasionally funny and works harder for laughs than Museum, which seems to think that Sacajawea's unpronounceable name is the height of wit. Both films serve as polar-opposite examples of a similar type of movie, with Dance Flick making no attempt to hide its factory-like construction and, under the circumstances, is more worthwhile for it.