Young@Heart and Planet B-Boy: Forever young

When octogenarians croon punk songs in Young@Heart and Korean crews breakdance in Planet B-Boy, the two new documentaries deliver comparable messages about the power of pop. Rock and hip-hop reflect more than just aspects of youth culture or local phenomena to transcend the boundaries of generations and nations.

Although Young@Heart and Planet B-Boy follow drastically different personalities as they prepare for big shows, both films eloquently show artists rising above limitations through the power of music.

In Young@Heart, director Stephen Walker soaks up the rehearsals leading to a new concert by the Young@Heart Chorus, a group with an average age of 80 and a global following. Under musical director Bob Cilman – a young whippersnapper compared with his singers – the chorus specializes in irreverent rock ‘n’ roll covers, even though the singers seem to prefer opera or classical music.

They’re a feisty, charming bunch as they struggle to master such initially ear-splitting songs as Sonic Youth’s “Schizophrenia.” The ill health of some of the chorus’s stars inevitably adds poignancy and a little gallows humor. At one point Cilman asks the group, “Have any of you ever had last rites?”, and at least one hand goes up. When Fred Nittle, a born showman despite his oxygen tank, sings a farewell performance of “Fix You,” the Coldplay song becomes a tribute to a departed friend and embodies artistic courage in the face of mortality.

You’d think it would be impossible to screw up such winning material, yet Walker’s blathering, tell-don’t-show narration almost does. His approach would be fine for, say, a seven-minute NPR segment or British TV, but it becomes condescending, as if he can’t stop selling us the story. Plus, the forced whimsy of Sally George’s video segments – the chorus hollering the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated,” for instance – comes dangerously close to laughing at the singers and it smacks of irony along the lines of the rapping granny. The Young@Heart Chorus can sing for themselves.

A 66-year-old Swedish breakdancer called “Crazy Grandma” briefly makes the scene in Planet B-Boy, but Korean-American director Benson Lee focuses on nationality, not age, in his portrayal of global breakdancing culture. The athletic dance form that outsiders associate with its roots in 1980s New York and the Electric Boogaloo days now has a worldwide reach.

Lee has crafted a suspenseful sports documentary with Planet B-Boy as it follows four crews competing in the Battle of the Year world championship in Braunschweig, Germany. Lee checks in on teams from France, Japan, Korea and the United States, and does an admirable job of keeping the many competitors and expert witnesses straight. By the final freestyle battle for first place, we’re excited to see the outcome.

With their youth and hip-hop fashions, the various b-boys seem remarkably similar, despite their differences in race and nationality. The mostly black French team includes a tiny, young white boy, whose mother admits to having initially resisted her son’s hobby out of racism; her view eventually matured. Planet B-Boy effectively packages a Korean crew called Last for One as the underdogs – its members coming from impoverished backgrounds and facing the end of their dancing careers when their mandatory military service begins.

Planet B-Boy unquestionably showcases some breathtaking moves. You can chuckle at a description such as “the world’s greatest headspinner,” until you see one dancer spin atop the head of another. At times the high-energy, intricate dancing all threatens to look alike, and we see the dancers in such short snippets that we may not appreciate their individual efforts. Still, Planet B-Boy offers an eye-opening portrait of a lively subculture. Together with Young@Heart, the films prove that with a little dedication and a good beat, people can transcend the earthly limitations of time and distance.