Last night I watched James Franco with a grimace then a smile as he deep sixed his status as Hollywood's It Boy. All the while I was thinking: by god, there's not enough dancing at the Oscars this year.
This is probably because I'd just enjoyed two recent films that prove closing with a dance number can be a brilliant gambit. (Close confidants already know I have a soft spot for this guilty pleasure.)
But in the current cinema, check out Giorgos Lanthimos' excellent climax to Dogtooth:
Like many of the emotionally deadpan sequences in the film, this starts out tittering and finishes sinister. And that's before the next scene, in which the older daughter (the sister who dances longer) uses a barbell for something other than its intended purpose. The static long shots emphasize the way the camera (and the viewer) can't seem to turn away from the bizarre machinations of this family.
Next we have Andrea Arnold and her (I'm using this word in all honesty) breathtaking finale to Fish Tank:
Here's two more sisters that need to get out of dodge. Mia, in her standard monochromatic clothes, centers the screen and is brought for the last time between her colorful mother and younger sister. It's rather silly to post it in this space, of course, with no other context from the film. But you must see it or see it again--Fish Tank is The 400 Blows in our time.