Yesterday's post on Surra de Bunda, a Brazilian dance move in which a female rapidly buffets a man's face with her rear, brought a wealth of new information. Chiefly: Surra de Bunda does not mean "ass licking" but "butt fighting."
Brazil, home to the world's most celebrated butts, has invented a new dance move. It's called the Surra de Bunda ("ass licking") and it involves hooking your feet over a man's shoulders and sledgehammer slamming your butt into his face.
New, creative dance styles are always welcome on the SYTYCD stage. Malinda Jacobson's Hick Hop. The Frankenstein monster made from hip hop, square, line and break dancing, Malinda thinks it's the next big thing. Delusions of grandeur, anyone?
The standard on So You Think You Can Dance is skinny ballerinas, smoldering salsa dancers, and buff b-boys. But screw that. This chubby contemporary dancer brought it with her audition and blew everyone away. Video of her incredible performance inside.
In a dusty storeroom in Afghanistan, seven soldiers stand in formation. Lady Gaga is on the sound system. They dance. Videos like these from the frontline are a far cry from candid camera hazing rituals that usually grab the spotlight.
ABDC crowned its champion last night, but not before dragging out the inevitable announcement for as long as possible with finale filler performances, pyrotechnics, and the requisite lengthy anticipatory silences.
At a funk fiesta, two hombres strut their stuff on the dance floor, kicking and sliding in total concentration. Showing off their fly moves while trying to top each other's insanity, they become lost in the dance trance. ¡Bailamos!
Raquel Welch, iconic babe of One Million Years B.C. and Bedazzled fame, blasts off to get her intergalactic groove on in her 1970 TV special, Raquel!. With Welch shaking her assets in a skimpy silver spacesuit, the retro-future looks banging.
Holy crap people, it is Friday. And that can only mean one thing: kick your heels up, coast through today, and watch this dance remix of Al Bundy.
In a deleted segment originally intended for the end credits of Predator 2, several of the actors playing the titular monster don their dreadlocks and body armor for a dance circle. Danny Glover joins, bridging the interspecies gap with funk.
Stephanie Tanner always knew one way to trump her adorable and perky sisters: actress Jodie Sweetin's radical 90s dance moves. Her scrunchies spinning, Full House's resident sourpuss was queen of the floor before hopping aboard the disenchanted child star express.
ABC's after school special "Ace Hits the Big Time" was a revolutionary event. Marvel as a group of purple-clad men dance around revolutionary bowling commentator and former Mr. Belvedere cast member, Rob Stone (he was the older brother).
They're gonna punch his front teeth way back into his mouth!
Video proof that nobody cares if you can dance, just dance.
High school sucks sometimes. Prime example: boy finds date, boy goes to the big dance, and boy probably returns home at a reasonable hour. What happens? Boy gets suspended.
In protest of "the ways in which conversations about institutional racism and white privilege have been mishandled and silenced within the [University of Minnesota Dance] department," anonymous activists have be-papered the department headquarters, provocatively:
Last night, a mob of dangerously dancing hipsters armed with boom boxes and dressed as terrifying pandas marched from Union Square to Williamsburg, where the NYPD met them in force. Apparently, dancing and loud music on a hot August evening can lead to any end of mischief, so our boys and girls in blue twisted arms, threw people down, and destroyed at least one portable stereo.
I suppose that was kind of the Village Voice at least to allow Deborah Jowitt to celebrate her fortieth anniversary as dance critic. Because the storied New York alt weekly, now owned by cost-cutting conglomerate, New Times, has laid her off. We were forwarded this email: "Motherfucking assholes just fired three more people — one a dance critic who's been here since 1968." The Village Voice says she's been asked to continue writing but, because of "budgetary constraints", as a freelancer. (Nathan Lee, the film critic, also lost his staff job.) That's fair enough: alt weeklies everywhere have been decimated by the exodus of classified advertising to the web; dance is increasingly irrelevant, culturally; and Jowitt had a good run. But the Village Voice's owners should slash costs once, and thoroughly, rather than allow the newspaper to suffer this debilitating torture of a thousand cuts.
New Yorker dance critic Joan Acocella is allll hot 'n bothered over Paul Taylor dance company star Michael Trusnovec. "Every one of Trusnovec's muscles is worked, while every cell in his brain seems to be pulsing with the music," she marvels. The entirety of the little Critic's Notebook piece is very lusty and makes me want to meet her. She also manages to throw in a little subliminal message about her "large rack." [New Yorker]
A top British dance troupe will premiere their newest piece, Meltdown, about Britney Spears' tragic fall from grace, in London tomorrow evening. Richard Thomas, composer of the recent Jerry Springer opera, also wrote the music for this show. Thomas seems to be quite the critic; showing the world, with melancholy and a slight whiff of pity, what a sad bunch of fuck-ups we across the pond really turned out to be. [AFP]
