Born to Dance (1936) is a dud to avoid, even if it’s got James Stewart in it. The music is terrible, even if it is written by Cole Porter. And even though Eleanor Powell was considered a great tap dancer back then, I couldn’t stomach her. She moved so oddly, as if her body wasn’t a whole, but two separate parts. Her legs moved to one beat while her upper body was a sort of buoy, bouncing up and down with some ill-shaped waves. Gosh, it was awful! I had to stop watching the movie midway. Where was the grace, the beauty, of the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dances? It sure wasn’t here. The dialogue was forgettable, the songs were unlistenable, and the dancing… yikes! Leave this movie on the shelf, gathering dust. We shouldn’t disturb its rest…