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By now, most of the Gen X girls who swooned over Dirty Dancing’s hot summer fairy tale have likely stopped fantasizing about playing Baby to some smokin’ Johnny Castle. But hearts may flutter anew at the opening credits of Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights, a “reimagining” of the 1987 hit that boasts it’s “based on true events.” Yes, some dreams apparently do come true—though if yours is to have the time of your life at this it’s-not-a-sequel, you’d have a better chance of hitting the lottery. Havana Nights sets its dirty action in late-’50s Cuba, where the virginal Katey (I Capture the Castle’s Romola Garai) has relocated with her family because of her father’s job. Uncomfortable with the snooty and racist country-clubbers in the familial social circle, Katey tries to keep her nose in her books—that is, until she catches some street dancers bustin’ a move while she’s walking home. Soon enough, Katey has learned a few steps outside the repertoire of her ex-professional-dancer parents (Sela Ward and John Slattery), struck up a friend- and partnership with gyrating busboy Javier (Diego Luna), and signed up for the Big Dance Competition, hoping that the purse will help Javier move his family out of the revolution-torn country. Director Guy Ferland seems to believe that allowing Cuba’s turbulent politics to intrude into (and eventually supersede) Katey and Javier’s story offers depth, but the move merely extinguishes what little heat is generated by the wan leads. True, Luna brings some of his androgynous Y Tu Mamá También sizzle to his scenes, but Garai, even when poured into her dress, is devoid of the requisite not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman fire. The choreography, often set to a head-scratchingly hiphop-tinged soundtrack, isn’t terribly ambitious or rousing, though fans of the original DD may be tickled to see Jennifer Grey’s overhead-arm move quoted several times. Also fun is sighting a certain slobbered-over dance instructor, if only for a second: When the camera zooms in on the weird, Botoxed-looking visage of an aging Patrick Swayze, the cameo is less likely to leave you murmuring, “Oooh, Johnny Castle!” than “What was I thinking?” —Tricia Olszewski