Just when you thought the U.S.-born break-dance phenomenon had subsided, director Benson Lee brings us a closer look at the style, which, to my delight, has been cultivated and reinterpreted by devotees around the world. These people, known as B-Boys (the "B" refers to the "breaker" or "break-dancing") are the subject of Lee's new documentary, Planet B-Boy. The astute film focuses on break-dancing's ultimate championship: The Battle of the Year (BOTY).

Held annually in Braunschweig, Germany, national winners from some 18 countries participate as crews (not individuals) in the celebrated contest. Initially a minuscule event, the Battle now sees an average audience of 10,000 flood the town for a few days each October. Gradually, the event has brought fame and recognition to winners, even beyond the subculture's niche market.

Planet B-Boy's early scenes hasten to serve as both a brief introduction to the genre as well as a self-aggrandizing promotion, with claims like "(breaking is) as legitimate a dance as any other dance that has existed" by one interviewee. But it is what follows that will keep viewers glued to their seats.

Focusing on the 2005 BOTY competition, the film tracks the ups and downs of five participating teams. Each one is given an in-depth analysis of how their style differs from the others: France's Phase T, comprised almost entirely of North African members (and one Caucasian), are praised for their elegant style, something that prompts one dance expert to claim that the French team are "the best b-dancers in the world"; the USA's Las Vegas-based Knucklehead Zoo demonstrates unified moves, showing traces of the town's famous stage shows; and Japan's Ichigeki team specializes in unconventional moves they say are derived from the country's cultural heritage.

The two remaining teams may both come from the same country, South Korea, but their fates are in stark contrast.

The Gamblerz were 2004's reigning champions, which automatically guaranteed them a slot in the year's contest; this however did not deter them from preparing meticulously. In their home country the B-boys have sparked both curiosity and resentment equally. Hip-hop and break-dancing are relatively new and thus still somewhat alien to Korea, yet have been expertly mastered within the country. The team has, hate to admit it but it's true, almost inconceivable skill and technique. One member's masterful head-spinning, the result of years of practice, is a point of frequent complaint and jealousy from rival competitors.

The other Korean team, Last for One, is new and the members, given their impoverished backgrounds, more concerned with overcoming adversity than securing victory. One member constantly seeks his father's approval of his decision to make a living from break dancing. In a far from tear-jerking approach, the team presents both their personal stories and their surprisingly professional take on showmanship, something unique for any emerging artists, with compelling results.

Credit goes, obviously, to Lee, who clearly tells the story as a true admirer of the dance form. Dramatic elements of rags-to-riches, David-versus-Goliath moments and diffusing cultural stereotypes are bound to ensue in a documentary with a champion-of-the-world premise. Under his deft direction, Lee weaves these threads seamlessly. Although no breakthrough storytelling method can be found here, the film succeeds in bringing to light the world of these die-hard break-dancing devotees.

Thus, we may pardon Lee for a lack of any dazzling cinematographic moments in capturing the pulsating moves of the dances -- something this writer hoped would happen a la David LaChapelle's Rize, which focuses on an underground dance movement in South Central Los Angeles. Lee believes in witnessing the phenomenon as an audience member rather than expert: he lets the camera capture the on-stage action, with all its stupefying choreographies and upbeat rhythms. He chose conventional camera movements over manipulative editing, which may have otherwise given a greater emotional feel to the dance scenes. Still, with each dance presented in full-frame, we can fully appreciate what these performers have worked on, and dreamed of.

Sit through the end credits to enjoy additional break-dancing footage, and learn why this supposedly anti-establishment movement has become a universal tool of personal expression.

More importantly, with stranger-than-fiction dramatic moments outshining a lack of polished technical elements, and dancing moves bound to make audiences shake in their seats, the film has its own irresistible charm. Planet B-Boy is fun to watch and, for some, equally enjoyable to dance to.

Planet B-Boy, with occasional English and full Indonesian subtitles, is playing at Blitz Megaplex.

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