Michael Mueller's character-driven script is about the only thing that feels driven in this otherwise listless vehicle, and "The Beat Beneath My Feet" conveys all the pulse-pounding energy of a funeral procession.

Music is very definitely an essential part of [director Williams'] storytelling toolbox, which gives the movie energy even when it lacks finesse.

It would be easier to forgive the corny, sub-Grange Hill cliches in writer-director John Williams's script if the actual music, on whose excellence the whole thing depends, was credibly catchy and not derivative tosh.

This film is for anyone who has ever played air guitar in the privacy of their bedroom. Or maybe, like me, you used a tennis racket. Either way, it's about the nurture and realisation of an improbable dream, and it's very nicely done.