Ballerina (2023) + Ballerina (2025)
발레리나
**/****
starring Jeon Jong-seo, Kim Ji-hoon, Park Yu-rim, Shin Se-hwi
written and directed by Lee Chung-hyun
From the World of John Wick: Ballerina
*/****
starring Ana de Armas, Anjelica Huston, Gabriel Byrne, Keanu Reeves
written by Shay Hatten
directed by Len Wiseman
by Walter Chaw At the end of Lee Chung-hyun’s 2023 film Ballerina, its hero, a badass master of weaponry on a mission of vengeance, uses a hilariously overpowered flamethrower to incinerate a serial rapist/killer and his Lamborghini on a neon-lit beach in South Korea. At the end of Len Wiseman’s Ballerina (2025), a badass master of weaponry on a mission of vengeance uses a hilariously overpowered flamethrower to incinerate a dozen or so Shemps in a neon-lit CGI mock-up of an alpine snow globe. The hero of Lee’s Ballerina, Ok-ju (Jeon Jong-seo), is a former bodyguard upset because her (probably) lover–Choi Min-hee (Park Yu-rim), a ballerina–has killed herself over the abuse suffered at the hands of the aforementioned charcoal briquette. Wiseman’s hero, Eve (Ana de Armas), is upset because as a child she witnessed the assassination of her father (Caleb Spillyards) at the hands of baddies collectively called the “Schmorga-Borga” or some other Swedish Chef nonsense, led by the mysterious Chancellor (uncanny-valley youthened Gabriel Byrne). Eve has spent her life [deep breath] training to be a ballerina-slash-assassin in the house of “Um Chop Chop Um Pluck Pluck”–led by the Director (Anjelica Huston), who manages to sneak the word “family” into every single line of her dialogue like a refugee from another exhausted and ludicrous franchise–just to avenge her dear, departed da. Rest assured, it’s as trite and terrible as it sounds. But thanks to escapism being in short supply these days, not to mention the illusion of sunk-cost fallacy, you’re probably going to see it anyway.


by Bill Chambers I found the imposed misery of Never Let Me Go a lot less provocative and haunting than the self-inflicted kind one encounters in Benedek Fliegauf’s Womb, whose one-word title seems to not-unduly affiliate the picture with Jonathan Glazer’s great Birth. I love this movie, but it took me a few days to digest it, and I’m not sure I’d have the patience to sit through it again. It’s challenging from the get-go, what with the quasi-kiddie porn of its opening sequences, in which a beautiful young boy and girl start sleeping together, and the girl caresses her skin, then the boy’s, as if trying to decipher some message between them written in Braille. (For pure eroticism, though, nothing trumps the pair watching a snail writhe across a kitchen table–and it’s here that I wish I possessed Walter Chaw’s vocabulary for discussing suggestively Romantic images such as these.) The girl, Rebecca, moves to Tokyo, and grows up to be played by Eva Green. She returns to the little beach community where she met the boy, Thomas (Matt “Doctor Who” Smith as an adult), and looks him up, having transparently spent the intervening years pining for him. When they meet again, he’s so thunderstruck that he dumps his current girlfriend on the spot, and the two impulsively begin a life together as eco-activist–an amateur entomologist, he breeds cockroaches, speaking to indelibility and infestation–and muse. Just as suddenly, Thomas is killed on the way to a protest, and Rebecca, feeling cosmically robbed, has and implements the lunatic idea to be artificially inseminated with Thomas’s clone and cultivate in the child an Oedipal complex, so that at some point in the future she will get to be with a facsimile of her lover, even if he is, technically, her son. What ensues is a distaff
by Walter Chaw
by Walter Chaw