If you told me that all of the action scenes and all of the exposition were filmed by different people at different times, maybe even years apart, I’d probably believe you.
Funnily enough, that does seem to be exactly what happened here, and it’s to the credit of Ballerina that beyond the forty-five minute mark, there are maybe fifty lines of dialogue left in the film. Chad Stahelski just knows how to make a head pop, what can I say.
First movie back from Cannes! The opening 20 minutes are a blast, and then it’s never remotely close to being that good again.
The violence is too cartoonish to elicit more than an “oh” from me, the human interest scenes run on for about eight hours and Kaitlyn Santa Juana, god bless her, has not got the stuff to be a Final Girl.
It’s still better than multiple films I saw at Cannes though, so I guess you can pop that on the poster.
“You said it was a ghost story. It isn’t.”
“No?”
“It’s a love story.”
“Same thing, really.”
Memories don’t really work in the way movies would have you believe. There’s no linearity; we don’t things as they occurred, rather we them on the basis of a feeling. When we love, our minds are museums of fond faces. When we fear, we seek distractions. We can no longer be trusted alone with our thoughts. The Haunting of Bly Manor…
