As you might have guessed, Cuban Fury isn't about Cuba. It's also not "a Cold War drama about the missile crisis" as producer and lead actor Nick Frost hoped viewers would initially believe. It's a movie about Salsa, and the comedic journey of a man who revisits the one thing he's really good at besides  (as he argues in the film) identifying dogs by their silhouettes. 

At first glance, Cuban Fury, in theaters April 11, with its tagline, "real men dance," seems like it will be your typical man-who-dances-to-win-a-woman's-heart comedy complete with the usual character stereotypes. But Frost doesn't think stereotypes are as interesting as real people. 

As Frost puts it, "you can't define Latin culture by a swarthy man in a black shirt undone to his navel or a French man eating a snail—it's bonkers."

Bonkers, indeed. 

While a silly romantic comedy with a somewhat predictable ending, Cuban Fury does show respect to its audience just by avoiding too many cookie-cutter characters, save for the office womanizer (Chris O'Dowd) who becomes Bruce's (Frost) nemesis in a battle for the heart of the company's new American boss (Rashida Jones) who just happens to be a Salsa enthusiast. Bruce himself had a passion for Salsa that he bottled after a traumatizing end to his childhood dancing stardom. 

In the end, it's not about the girl and it's not about winning the inevitable Salsa competition (which is good because Bruce isn't really as fantastic a dancer as he's hyped up to be). Bruce realizes he's actually fighting to win back his own confidence and learning to love himself. But before that, there's plenty of sequined Salsa shenanigans, including a dramatic rooftop dance off.  

Before filming Cuban Fury, Frost never danced a step of Salsa in his life. It took all 1200 hours of training over 7 months to feel confident in front of the Camera, Frost said, and a little encouragement from London's Salsa community, many who appear in the finale of the movie. Frost trained with Richard Marcel, the "leading light" in London Salsa, and danced alongside international legend Susana Montero. He also made sure that scripts were circulated amongst London Salsa enthusiasts, those committed to the art as it grows in popularity and increasingly becomes mainstream.

"I didn't want to do it in terms of making fun of that community and making fun of Salsa itself," Frost explained. Seven months of full-time training coupled with clubbing in London's Salsa scene shaped Frost into a character and person with the utmost regard for the dance and the values it embodies—heart, confidence, love and acceptance.

"During the finale, that last ten minutes, everyone in that club is the Latin Salsa community from London," Frost explained, "That made me feel kind of amazing, like maybe I did a good job to see 24-year-old Cuban men come up and call me a Salsero."

Frost doesn't claim to be a Salsero. Much of his full-time training has left him over the 18 months since filming. 

"It's like a language," Frost said. "If you're learning it and speaking it every day then you become kind of proficient in it." As soon as you stop, however, the words and steps begin to leave you. However, Frost joked, "the fiery Latin part" in his heart will forever burn.

That's what Bruce learned, too. Dancing is not about how you look, but how you feel. If you feel like a Salsero instead of a British man trying to pull off sequins, then go ahead and follow your heart.