Richard Pryor, phone home. In this terribly autobiographical tale, we see Pryor as ghost/angel, looking back on his life -- working his way through the seedy clubs, making it big on Ed Sullivan, and self-destructing on booze and drugs. Of course, the real Pryor never set himself on fire... In any case, Jo Jo Dancer is certainly a heartfelt and cautionary tale a la Gia, but it lacks much in the way of plot development, action, and a reason to care about Jo Jo one way or the other. I fell asleep more than once.