I approached this film with low expectations but was very pleasantly surprised. It is very well done and it beats hands down the ballroom dancing movies of recent years, especially "Strictly Ballroom". While the music is nice and the dancing colourful, for me the movie is not about dancing. It is about the very Japanese institution that gives male office workers long commutes to work and free time after work for entertainment that does not involve their families. Here we have the man with the complete family and the large mortgage and a flagging zest for life. He is drawn to the attractive image of a young woman in a dance studio he passes during his commute and this leads him to try ballroom dancing. Also Japanese is the fact that the lecherous motives that initiated his new passion are made plain but somehow accepted, at least eventually, by family and audience. Attitudes to ballroom dancing, as conveyed in the film, are definitely non-Western, though the discipline and the music are clearly cultural imports to Japan. The cultural contrasts are thus intriguing. Even without the cultural insights, the colour, the dance and the enthusiasm of the players all make this a fun film to watch.

I very nearly walked out, but I'd paid my money, and my nearly-as-disgusted friend wanted to hold out. After the endearing, wide-eyed innocence of "A New Hope" and the thrilling sophistication of "The Empire Strikes Back," I remember awaiting "Return of the Jedi" with almost aching anticipation. But from the opening scene of this insultingly commercial sewage, I was bitterly disappointed, and enraged at Lucas. He should have been ashamed of himself, but this abomination undeniably proves that he doesn't have subatomic particle of shame in his cold, greedy heart. Episode I would go on to reinforce this fact -- your honor, I call Jarjar Binks (but please issue barf bags to the members of the jury first).
From the initial raising of the gate at Jabba's lair, this "film" was nothing more than a two-plus-hour commercial for as many licensable, profit-making action figures as Lucas could cram into it -- the pig-like guards, the hokey flesh-pigtailed flunky, that vile muppet-pet of Jabba's, the new and recycled cabaret figures, the monsters, etc., etc., ad vomitum. Then there were the detestably cute and marketable Ewoks. Pile on top of that all of the rebel alliance aliens. Fifteen seconds each on-screen (or less) and the kiddies just GOTTA have one for their collection. The blatant, exploitative financial baiting of children is nauseating.
Lucas didn't even bother to come up with a new plot -- he just exhumed the Death Star from "A New Hope" and heaved in a boatload of cheap sentiment. What an appalling slap in the face to his fans. I can't shake the notion that Lucas took a perverse pleasure in inflicting this dreck on his fans: "I've got these lemmings hooked so bad that I can crank out the worst piece of stinking, putrid garbage that I could dream up, and they'll flock to the theaters to scarf it up. Plus, all the kiddies will whine and torture their parents until they buy the brats a complete collection of action figures of every single incidental undeveloped, cartoonish caricature that I stuffed in, and I get a cut from every single one. It'll make me even more obscenely rich."
There may have been a paltry, partial handful of redeeming moments in this miserable rip-off. I seem to recall that Harrison Ford managed to just barely keep his nose above the surface of this cesspool. But whatever tiny few bright spots there may be are massively obliterated by the offensive commercialism that Lucas so avariciously embraced in this total, absolute sell-out to profit.