David LaChapelle, among the most distinctly over-the-top commercial photographers of all time, has made a career out of pushing the boundaries of political correctness and redefining what we view as beautiful, bold, colorful, sexual. His photography, particularly his celebrity portraits, are rich in their frenzied energy; his work can turn even the most untalented of stars (ahem, Paris Hilton) into iconoclasts of the frenetic image. My favorite LaChapelle photo, that of a nude, afroed, and positively beaming Naomi Campbell lying atop a substantial pile of fruit, would seem trashy anywhere else but appears giddy, boundlessly euphoric, even, when lensed by LaChapelle.

He famously left his day job as the most gifted commercial photographer in 2006, dramatically and abruptly, escaping to a secluded Hawaiian paradise in some form of an extended mid-life crisis. After a long break from doing what he thought he loved, he rediscovered himself and became an Andy Warhol post-Factory of sorts, regarding his work more seriously than ever before. So the celebrities, the magazines covers, the elbow- rubbing, came to an end in pursuit of fine art. Now, LaChapelle would much prefer to make a social statement than put Lil' Kim on a crucifix and surround her with nuns for the sake of kitsch. He has directed a number of eye-catching music videos, but 2005's "Rize", a documentary, remains to be his only film. Though much of it is filmed in the same Technicolor, purposely campy ballpark of his other work, "Rize" is a surprisingly mature doc, especially when considering it was headed by the Fellini of photography.

LaChapelle gives us an inside look into the world of krumping, a highly emotional, movement intensive form of dance descended from clowning and perfected in the wake of the 1992 Rodney King riots. Found mostly in inner-city Los Angeles, where crime runs amok and pressure to join gangs is high, krumping is, for its most active participants, a life- saver, a persona defining hobby that gives them a reason to stay off the streets and entertain the public after hours upon hours of lightning paced practice. LaChapelle divides the film into three parts, the first introducing the krumping culture through interviews, the second connecting clowning with the dance in focus, the third climaxing with a thunderous battle of movement between the two rival krumping groups.

One might expect LaChapelle to let his tremendous stylistic abilities gloss over the more spit on the ground realities of "Rize" in favor of startling imagery, but his instantaneous recognizability takes a backseat to the hugely fascinating stories of the krumpers. These are not people who simply like to dance; they were saved by the art form, revitalized by it. Before he invented, or at least, nurtured, the style of krumping, Tommy Johnson, also known as "Tommy the Clown", was a drug dealer who spent five years in prison for his crimes. After his release, he was invited to a child's birthday party in hopes of entertainment — then and there, dressed as a clown, he kicked off a completely new dancing style that took much of Los Angeles by storm following the Rodney King riots. In the years following, he started a business, became a local legend, and took scads of at-risk adults under his wing.

Most inspiring is Christian "Baby Tight Eyez" Jones, who went from an atrociously tragic childhood straight into dancing success — because of krumping, the very idea of following in the footsteps of his deadbeat parents sounded like nightmare fantasy. He was good at something, had fun doing that something, and, in return, became a success in his own right. Jones is only one of the many kids Johnson has supported over the years, and "Rize" takes the time to get to know them. LaChapelle finds a good balance between spectacle and human drama, as willing to highlight remarkable dancing abilities as he is ready to underline the struggles many of his subjects face. As wonderful as krumping is for most of these people, it can hardly mask the harsh truths that overtake so much of the ghetto.

"Rize" is a solid documentary that does what a documentary should; introduce you to something completely new and make you suddenly care about it as though it were always part of your life. Though I wish it was a bit longer (we become invested in the cast), this is an energetically shot, empathetically made film.

"Rize" rises above anthropological curiosity to be an exhilarating paean to the human spirit.

It is parallel to "Bastards of the Party" in noting how devastating gang violence, drugs and poverty have been to the social structure of African-Americans living in South Central Los Angeles and how young people desperately seek alternative families for emotional support. But debut director David LaChapelle (and a graduate and proponent of arts education programs) documents the power of artistic expression in literally saving souls and lives, here through a spontaneously indigenous, organized form of hip hop dancing.

It is "Amazing Grace" acted out before our eyes as this is self-help, bootstraps up through specifically African-American Christian culture that grew out of birthday party celebrations, going from clown dancing to crumping.

I was thinking of "A Chorus Line"'s refrain of "Everything was beautiful at the ballet" of girls escaping dysfunctional families even before these hyper-articulate entertainers point out that there are no ballet classes available to them, or any after-school activities for kids not interested in football or basketball so they made the choice to dance with organized groups, first in informal than structured competitions.

No white talking head experts are needed in this film, though it is not clear how much influence LaChapelle had over the participants' self-awareness over the three years he was making the film, as we only hear his voice a couple of times asking questions, usually of their mothers. For example, L'il C says such dancing is "in our blood" -- but is that after LaChapelle showed them the footage of African ritual dancing that they had never seen before -- and it is a bit disconcerting that of all the footage he could have selected he uses material from the Leni Riefenstahl archives. Ethnomusicologist Nick Spitzer of Public Radio's American Routes show could certainly teach them all something about the recurring phenomenon in the African diaspora of similar competitive "families" created around dancing and costumes or make-up, including the samba clubs in Brazil, the Mardi Gras "Indians" of New Orleans and the carnival crews of the Caribbean.

LaChappelle carefully introduces us to the participants as dancers and individuals before we know more about their difficult pasts and home lives, as these are young people who had to grow up too fast and are lucky to have survived, even as they can't avoid the neighborhood's random violence. We also see that these are the kind of individuals who are naturally nurturing and mentor-seeking, as one explanation of how they sought out the arts and why dance speaks to them as a mechanism to work out their emotions.

The sound track assiduously avoids degrading commercial hip hop selections for songs that reflect the spirit of the dancing, as the participants resoundingly note the independence of their culture from corporate forces.

While the story line wanders a bit after the climactic Battle Zone, LaChappelle forcefully links the the dancing to Pentecostal and Baptist gospel traditions for the life affirming conclusion. The closing shots of how it has spread outside the African-American community aren't entirely convincing.

LaChappelle can't resist some artsy music video type shots of beautiful, glistening bodies by the ocean, but that does serve to emphasize their dancing as an aesthetic form, even as the film does go on a bit too long and repetitively.

The interviews on "Charlie Rose" should be included with the DVD as there is no concluding update to learn that some of the participants are now employed professionally as dancers, though we did get a glimpse that Miss Prissy is taking some formal dance training.

Regardless, you do walk out uplifted and feelingly thrillingly positive about life.

We need movies like this. we need to allow ourselves to be touched.

So we can learn to be human beings, people need to learn to be humane to each other. Forget gender, forget color, forget beliefs, we all human underneath, we all drown, we all bleed, we all are scared, we all want to express ourselves, and we all deserve that respect.

Learn to give that to everyone you meet. You might never see them again.

I feel privileged these people shared their lives with me. We can learn so much from what the people in this documentary are sharing with us about community, and culture, and humanity.