Category: Review

Tentacles and Teeth, by Ariele Sieling

  By

Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆½

I was disappointed by the lack of tentacles. However, there were certainly no shortage of teeth in this post-apocalyptic tale, which takes place decades after the arrival of monsters, from an uncertain source, has led to the collapse of civilization on Earth. The survivors are left to scratch out a fragile existence, trying to dodge the many kinds of lethal new fauna which inhabit the landscape. Askari is a young woman who forms part of one such nomadic group, but finds herself increasingly questioning the strict rules by which they operate. As punishment for breaking these laws, is sent by elders of her tribe on a hazardous mission into a long-abandoned urban area.

Fortunately, she’s not alone, with allies human and animal. Even with these on her side, there are any number of lethal hazards to be faced, fought or avoided. There are also lessons to be learned, both about survival and her own heritage. When she re-unites with her group, they find themselves trapped in a cave network, possessing an unpleasant sitting tenant. Once that is disposed of, the only way out is through a pitched battle against multiple packs of rarohan, carnivorous creatures the size of horses, capable of ripping a full-grown man to shreds in seconds. Survival is possible, but what might the cost be, and are they willing to pay it?

Despite any deficiencies on the tenticular department, I liked the world-building here, which is likely the strongest element. There’s just enough information given about things became this way, that it doesn’t seem a fait accompli, and it feels like the author has a whole bestiary of weird and wonderful creations in her locker, ready to drop on Askari, as and when necessary. Getting rid of them, on the other hand, is a little less convincing, and is where Sieling struggles most. It’s a combination of questionable evolution – turns out the rarohan have a button on their backs which basically makes them explode – and too convenient contrivance, such as the fully-functioning gun one character suddenly pulls out of thin air. This weakens Askari significantly as a lead character.

It’s something of a shame, since she has many admirable attributes, being smart, inquisitive and in particular, having a questioning nature. She doesn’t accept that “the science is settled,” for example, in the blanket labelling of all monsters as bad. While this can certainly put her in needless peril, the knowledge gained seems likely to help both her and her group in the longer term. Sieling does a good job of telling a complete story here: while the ending clearly opens the door towards further adventures for Askari, it’s not a cliff-hanger, and should leave you feeling satisfied. I might not be willing to pay full price for further entries in the series, yet if I was to see a special offer or collection of them, I could be tempted into a purchase. Let’s just hope the tentacles show up…

Author: Ariele Sieling
Publisher: Independently published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 7 in the Land of Szornyek series.

Red Winter

  By

★½
“Snow good at all.”

Carla (Williams) and her boyfriend Daniel (Davis) are all set for a nice weekend in the mountains. Unfortunately, the snowmobile trip runs into difficulty, in particular coming in the shape of a pair of cartel assassins. What, you may ask, are a pair of cartel assassins doing half-way up a snowy mountain in [I’m guessing] the Colorado Rockies? Good question. I’m glad you asked. They are after a robber who made the ill-advised decision to rob a bar which was a front for their organization. He’s now hiding out, half-way up the aforementioned snowy mountain, in the belief he’s safe. Turns out not to be the case.

There’s a prologue which takes us back to when Carla was young, and was out hunting in the woods with her father. They wound a stag, and as they stand and watch it bleed out, we get ominous lines like, “Because when they’re fighting for their lives, sweet pea, they can be dangerous.” Just in case you missed the importance of this, we flash back to this flashback on repeated occasions during the movie. Because, it’s clearly Very Important. Except, it really isn’t. What it does, however, is help to drag things out before we get anything approaching action. It’s mostly people trudging around a mountainous landscape, very slowly, because one of the party has an injured ankle. This occupies much of the first fifty minutes – and we barely reach seventy before the end credits roll.

Carla is, above everything else, a very sensible heroine. She’s quite likeable as such, and comes over as smart, albeit cautious. The problem is, she simply does not get enough to do. These unrealistic expectations were based on a synopsis which reads, “With the killers stalking them through the bitter cold, Carla must use her survival skills taught to her by her father to ensure she’s the predator and not the prey in this bloody fight for survival.” The reality is something far less interesting, in that those skills are largely limited to her binding that ankle mentioned previously. This does not make for thrilling television. [It was made for BET, but feels like it would have been more at home on Hallmark, perhaps titled, The Wrong Mountain]

There’s certainly nothing particularly red about this winter. Except for the heroine, there’s nothing of merit or even, to be honest, real competence here. The script is meandering and unfocused, and most of the supporting characters fail to make an impression. A slight pass goes to Dante (Sanchez), the dominant assassin, who does have some presence. However, Daniel in particular is beyond useless. While this might have been deliberate, in an effort to make Carla look strong, it’s a flawed approach. You create a heroine by having her demonstrate strength, not others showing their weakness. That may seem obvious, but it’s apparently a lesson of which the makers here were unaware. Along with quite a number of others.

Dir: Steven C. Pitts
Star: Ashley A. Williams, Vernon Davis, Brandon Schaffer, Roberto Sanchez

Vengeance Served Cold

  By

★½
“More like undercooked. “

At the age of fifteen, Madison Michaels saw her prostitute mother beaten and killed by Renegade (Cross), a vicious local pimp. His homicide goes unpunished. Ten years later, Madison (Linton) is a counsellor, trying to help drug addicts and hookers get off the streets. She discovers that Renegade is still abusing women, and gets no help from the police, with Detective Straker (Williams) saying he can do nothing based on her hearsay. Against the advice of her friends and sister Lydia (Jeffries), Madison hatches a plan to take the pimp down, and clean the streets of thus piece of scum. Naturally, it doesn’t initially go quite as planned, with the trap set for Renegade backfiring, followed by betrayal from an unexpected direction. 

Even at seventy-five minutes long, this somehow manages to outstay its welcome in short order. On a shallow level, I eventually understood why Renegade may not have been prosecuted, yet the explanation falls far short of being fully convincing. It is still more than we get, in terms of a reason why Madison waited ten years before deciding to take any action. It’s not like she or Renegade went anywhere. Sure, she’s learning martial arts from her (not particularly awe-inspiring) sensei. Yet the level which she has reached doesn’t seem, for example, to reach any kind of critical threshold, such as the one necessary to take down a sadistic street thug with no moral qualms. In two minutes, I came up with a better plot: Madison went away, joined the army, and is now back, armed with the skills she needs to take on Renegade.

The poverty of the production too often gets in the way. Witness, for example, the penultimate scene, which was clearly filmed on a windy street, resulting in the dialogue being inaudible over the breeze rattling across the mics. Walmart sells a variety of wind covers for microphones at a cost of less than ten dollars. That this was, apparently, beyond the movie’s resources, tells you all you need to know. Similarly, the supposedly “brutal” death of the heroine’s mother consists of not much more than the actress lying on the floor with her eyes open. As a result, this rarely manages to approach a convincing depiction of life on the streets.

Some slight credit is due to Davis for exercising restraint on the soundtrack. It actually feels like it belongs to a proper film, rather than the director’s Spotify on random, as is usually the case in these films. This is not enough to overcome a script that simply does not have enough going on, even at the short duration present. There’s no particular sense of escalation, and what should have been the climactic face-off between Madison and – let’s remember, since the movie seems all but to forget this – the man who killed her mother in front of her, falls flatter than a day-old crepe. To continue the culinary metaphor of the title, I’m sending this one back to the kitchen.

Dir: Shaan Davis
Star: Kameka Linton, Aviator Cross, Chyrod Williams, Brandy Jeffries

Grotesque

  By

★★
“Plastic surgery disaster.”

Mildred Moyer (Chamberlain) has a problem, and it’s as plain as the nose on her face. Actually, it is the nose on her face, which would not look out of place – as one callous workmate points out – on a certain wooden boy of fairy-tale renown. Needless to say, her life has been made unpleasant by cruel comments from strangers and acquaintances. Finally, she has had enough and goes to a shady plastic surgeon to get it fixed. Unsurprisingly, this goes wrong – the fact her appointment is at 11 pm in the basement of a strip-club might have been a clue – and she is left horribly disfigured as a result. This drives her over the edge, and she vows savage revenge on all those who had wronged her.

There’s a really weird tone to this. You would think, given the subject matter, that it would be a dark movie, but Rhiness seems to be aiming more for humour as the over-arching atmosphere. Now, there’s obviously an overlap for horror and comedy, but it’s a cross-pollination of genres which is hard to pull off. The likes of Sam Raimi, Peter Jackson and Stuart Gordon can do it. Rhiness… not so much. Indeed, if you told me you didn’t find this either horrific or funny, that would feel like fair comment. Occasional moments do briefly achieve a solid foot in either camp, in my opinion. But not for long, and none manage to combine them effectively.

It is clear that the director is going for parodic excess in many elements: Mildred’s nose is so extreme as to be a clear indicator of that, and a lot of the performances go down similarly broad lines. Her ultimate nemesis, Blanche (Whelan), could not be a more broad depiction of a “mean girl” if she tried, and I strongly suspect she was, indeed, trying for that. But I felt the switch in Mildred from meek and milquetoast to mass-murdering psychopath felt sudden and forced. Perhaps it was having watched Joker the previous night, which took its time to bring the audience along on that transition, rather than just going “Hey, it’s time for her to go berserk.”

The killings are a mixed bag, and that’s being kind. Even allowing for the low-budget some of the effects are simply not good enough. Again, the deaths don’t generate much of anything on the viewer, only occasionally going sufficiently over the top to be amusing. However, Rhiness and team do deserve credit for keeping things simple: the goals here are not exactly lofty, and the lack of ambition and pretension is likely for the best. Chamberlain also helps to keep the project’s head above water, and even when the story isn’t doing enough to sustain your attention, her performance is quirky and engaging. But I can’t help thinking the whole project would have been better off deciding to be either a horror film or a comedy, and sticking with one or the other.

Dir: Brandon Rhiness
Star: Elizabeth Chamberlain, Julie Whelan, Hudsynn Grace Kennedy, Jaime Hill

Altitudes

  By

★★★
“Climb every mountain…”

I was really surprised to discover that this French film is actually made for television. It has a certain gravitas and thoughtfulness to it, that you rarely find in a genre which is (often rightfully) derided as being formulaic and cliched. This doesn’t escape those criticisms entirely – in particular, there’s a “Disease of the Week” subplot, which does feel as it it might have strayed in from Lifetime or Hallmark. However, even there, it feels handled in a relatively natural manner, rather than being shoehorned in there to elicit sympathy from the viewer. It definitely looks better than most TVMs out of Hollywood. Whether this is down to Félix von Muralt’s cinematography, or simply the stunning Alpine landscapes, is open to debate.

It begins at a funeral. Isabelle Dormann (Borotra) has returned following fifteen years away, after the death of her father, a former mountaineer, who then ran a lodge high in the Alps. This allows her to reconnect with her friend, Kenza (Krey), a world-class climber herself, but also more awkwardly, with Antoine (Stévenin), a man with whom she had a relationship which helped precipitate Isabelle’s sudden departure from the mountains. She decides to honour her father by climbing a new route up Les Roches Brunes, the nearby mountain after which the lodge was called. At 4,357 metres high, it’s the tallest peak in the area, and Isabelle always talked with her father about pioneering a new route up it, to be named for the family.

She and Kenza decide to honour her late father by doing just that. However, it turns out Isabelle is suffering from a neurodegenerative condition, which is slowly but inevitably killing her, making it a race against time before her physical abilities just aren’t there. It seems this is a fight she has lost, as practice sessions don’t go well. Yet after Kenza calls off the attempt, Isabelle decides to strike out on her own for a solo ascent. Kenza and Antoine follow, hoping to save her from herself.

I like films about climbing, when they concentrate on the climbing. Yet, it seems inevitable to tack on personal drama of one kind or another. It’s not enough simply to have one person taking on nature. Too often, they need to have a dead fiance or similar motivation, and the results often tend to resemble bad soap-opera. That’s definitely the case here, with the whole Isabelle-Antoine relationship dramatically overcooked, and muddying the water. The same goes for Isabelle’s condition: she could simply have been not experienced enough to take on the climb. However, when the movie sets such formulaic conceits aside and concentrates on the almost primeval struggle, it’s much more effective. I can’t even dock it significantly for Antoine effectively white-knighting things, since the ending is bittersweet enough to justify it. I think it’s one which will stick in my mind, for longer than it felt it would at the time. 

Dir: Pierre-Antoine Hiroz
Star: Claire Borotra, Déborah Krey, Sagamore Stévenin, Isabelle Caillat
a.k.a. The Climb

Wingwomen

  By

★★
“A wing and not much prayer.”

Netflix describes this as “Charlie’s Angels meets Lupin, with a dash of Killing Eve.” Um. About that… While I haven’t seen Lupin, I can confidently state any similarity to the others is tangential at best. For example, the only thing this really has in connection with Charlie’s Angels, is that there’s three of them. But here, it’s more like 2.25, since the third member is largely useless. It’s almost entirely the story of Carole (Laurent) and Alex (Exarchopoulos), two thieves who work for the enigmatic Marraine (Adjani). But Carole has discovered she’s pregnant and wants out of the business. Marraine is not happy, but agrees, providing Carole does that hoariest of film clichés: One Last Job.

This involves stealing a piece of art from a church, and they ordered to bring a getaway driver on board. She is Sam (Bresch), and is entirely pointless. Carole does the actual thieving, and Alex is a crack shot. But Sam? I can only presume she’s there to fulfill some kind of diversity quota. Because she has no talent past driving, and at no point in the movie subsequently is a quick getaway required. The same goes for other elements. There’s a John Wick-like thread where Alex’s bunny is killed. But the film forgets all about it for an hour, before suddenly remembering. Only to dispose of it in a scene, that seems to exist more so Carole and Sam can do a spot of flamenco.

Laurent has been here before, albeit a while ago. Back in 2011, we reviewed Requiem pour une Tueuse, in which she played an assassin who goes on… [all together!] ONE LAST MISSION! So it’s ironic to see her now directing a movie based around the same trope. It is very focused on the Alex/Carole dynamic, and that might be where the Killing Eve comparisons come from. But there’s nothing remotely adversarial about things here. It is nicely handled, the pair possessing the easy dynamic that only results from long familiarity and comfort with each other. However, this arguably sits closer to Thelma & Louise than anything, and certainly is more intense than you’d find on the male side of the genre. 

To be honest, Laurent seems to prefer this aspect to the action. For instance, she cuts from the meat of a fight between Alex and an assassin, to (presumably!) his tarpaulin wrapped corpse being dropped into the ocean. The stuff which is present, is not especially memorable. Even the art heist turns into more of a comedy of errors, as the target has become the location of a movie shoot. While there are some cool ideas – the stunningly well-disguised hideout in the middle of a forest being one – this feels like a relationship drama disguised as an action movie. It’s especially so at the end, when it almost topples over into hysteria. Give me an Alex solo film instead, and I would probably have been more interested and entertained.

Dir: Mélanie Laurent
Star: Mélanie Laurent, Adèle Exarchopoulos, Manon Bresch, Isabelle Adjani
a.k.a. Voleuses

Xanadu Hellfire

  By

★★½
“Olivia Newton-John not included.”

I went into this braced for it to be terrible, having sat through the same film-makers’, largely irredeemable Bloodsucka Jones vs. The Creeping Death. Fortunately, this is considerably better. Still very cheap and flawed, yet is at least aware of its own limitations, and tries to work inside them (albeit with mixed success). It’s about eight-year-old Ruby (Surrec), who lives with her single parent Dad, Steven (Thomas), and is obsessed with comic-book heroine, Xanadu Hellfire (Minear). For her birthday, Ruby wants to stage a ritual from the comic, and bring Xanadu back from her post-apocalyptic future. Dad humours her – at least until the ritual works, and Xanadu arrives, with wicked stepsister Raven (America) on her heels.

From here, things progress more or less as you expect. Xanadu has to adapt to life in contemporary society (I did laugh at her going to Ruby’s school, where the battle-bikini clad warrior princess is described as “an exchange student from Canada”). She bonds with Ruby, partly because she reminds the moppet of her absent mother. Conveniently, Xanadu and Mom take the same size in clothes, as we find out during a dress-up montage. Raven shows up, and “wreak havoc” as she and her sidekicks search for Xanadu. Xanadu, Ruby, Dad, some of Dad’s loser friends from high-school team and Ruby’s best friend, Becky, team up to take on Raven and Co.

It’s a super mixed bag of elements that are fun, and stuff which borders on the cringe. Sometimes, both are in close proximity. For example, Minear looks really good twirling her staff. But as soon as she goes into hand-to-hand combat, she slows down to about one-tenth of the speed. While I admire the avoidance of hyper-kinetic editing, the lengthy shots only exacerbate this problem. The comedy which doesn’t hit, misses by a mile, such as an extended joke about characters walking about in slow-motion. It doesn’t help that Ruby’s lines never sound like something an adorable eight-year-old would say e.g. “Eat shit, Frankenhooker!”. Yet some elements are genuinely funny, such as the way Raven’s minions team up with the local Goth girl. This leads to the exchange, “I thought you were dead?” “Only on the inside…”

It’s at its best when obviously not taking itself seriously. For instance, Becky going up to a minion before the final battle, and saying, “I like your make-up. Do you need a hug?” Sadly what follows is far from the climactic conflict the movie needs, and at 107 minutes long, this is in serious need of significant trimming. There was also surprisingly little difference between the post-apocalyptic world and the modern one, though this might have been a deliberate joke. Or it might not. The ending teases a sequel, which I’m all in favour of, providing it stops the makers from doing another Bloodsucka Jones movie. For I would be at least cautiously interested in seeing Xanadu’s further adventures, as despite the flaws here, there is genuine heart at its heart.

Dir: Justin Armao
Star: Macy Minear, Aria Surrec, Ryon Thomas, Arianna America

The Guns of Fort Petticoat

  By

★★★
“Skirts vs. ‘skins”

This is one where you need to take the era into account. Made in 1957, this was based on a short story from a couple of years earlier: “Petticoat Brigade” by Chester William Harrison. It’s very much an Audie Murphy movie – and understandably so, since the man was a bona fide hero, being one of the most-decorated American combat soldiers in World War II, before he became an actor. But the fifties was not a decade known for strong, independent female characters in Hollywood Westerns. We’ve covered a few: Woman They Almost Lynched and Johnny Guitar are likely the best. However, this works mostly because of the matter-of-fact way in which it depicts them, in contrast to the other example where they’re portrayed as unusual.

It takes place in 1864, when Lt. Frank Hewitt (Murphy) is part of the Union forces in the American Civil War. However, hearing of Indians going on the warpath towards his native Texas, he heads back to his home there, to warn the locals. They’re not too happy to see him – his town being on the Confederate side of the conflict – but they are eventually convinced of the problem. With no safe sanctuary to hand, they seek refuge in the local mission, which offers the only defensible sanctuary. A bigger issue then arises: almost all the adult men are away, fighting in the war. So it’s up to Hewitt, to wrangle the plucky but largely untrained women who remain, into a force capable of repelling the marauding natives.

While it’s a fairly boilerplate story, it’s delivered with a fair amount of nuance. The Union/Confederate situation is handled with moderation, and it’s even made clear that the Native Americans are a spectrum, from peaceful to warlike. The women, similarly, are a good range of characters, most of whom are willing to fight – and in some cases, die – in defense of their town. They range from a religious pacifist, to my personal favourite, Hannah Lacey (Emerson), whom Hewitt appoints as his second-in-command. She proclaims herself as good as “any three men” on a number of occasions, and appears to have the strength and skills to back up that claim. The likes of Hannah make up for odd missteps, like Hewitt turning one of the woman over his knee to spank her!

Naturally, there’s a slice of romance, with Hewitt meeting, once again, Anne Martin (Grant). She’s the sweetheart whom he left to join the army, only for her to marry another man, not long after his departure. They do the inevitable bickering before falling back in love. However this, and a rather contrived finale where the hero is miraculously saved from being hung for desertion, aren’t enough to derail what’s a solid and enjoyable Western adventure, one made before I was born. It manages to uplift its female characters rather than patronize them, yet never lets the message of empowerment get in the way of being entertaining.

Dir: George Marshall
Star: Audie Murphy, Kathryn Grant, Hope Emerson, Jeanette Nolan

Girl On The Golden Elephant, by Richter Watkins

  By

Literary rating: ★★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆
a.k.a. Lethal Redemption

War correspondent Kiera Hunter goes out of her comfort zone, to try and solve a decades-old mystery related to her grandfather. He was a CIA pilot, on one of the last planes to get out of Saigon in 1975, but it crashed deep in the Laotian jungle, carrying a statue of deep iconic significance to the locals. This depicted legendary freedom fighter Trưng Trắc on an elephant, which will be significant later. After the death of her gramps, Kiera finds papers describing the location of the crash, and heads to the area to try and locate it. There she teams up with guide Porter Vale, but there are other, envious eyes after the cargo, and prepared to go to any lengths to obtain it.

This is… alright, I suppose. To be honest, for someone who is allegedly used to operating in the most perilous of environments, Kiera comes over as quite naive and, especially in the early going, almost painfully dependent on Porter. I get it’s perhaps not her usual theatre of operations, and it’s wise to defer to somebody with local knowledge. However, the basic rules of operation are no different in the Middle East and the Far East. For much of the first half, this feels more like The Adventures of Porter Vale, and his tagalong sidekick. The other issue was one of the main villains being called… Luc Besson. Yeah. Somebody really didn’t like Angel-A.

Once Porter and Kiera cross the border into Laos, things do improve. Her free-climbing skills prove critical in the expedition reaching the plateau where the plane can be found. After they come under attack by Besson’s men, it’s also up to her to make her way back to the encampment of the local Hmong people. This is no easy matter, and nor is convincing them of the need to help. Fortunately the spirit of Trưng Trắc is there to lend a helping hand (told you it would be significant!). This isn’t as cheesy as it sounds, and is written with enough conviction to sell the concept. Although more liberal readers will perhaps snort something derisive about cultural appropriation, and the whole endeavour being an example of White Saviour Complex.

Personally, I’m more concerned with writing which seems to have a much better sense of location than character. Watkins does a decent job of capturing the colour of the settings, such as the frenetic urban pace of Saigon. This is in sharp contrast to the rural wilderness into which Keira is dropped, more or less literally. The people who inhabit it are considerably more thinly-sketched: Porter in particular never gets past being the square-jawed hero of a comic strip. He and Keira never have the chemistry necessary for the relationship depicted on the page, which fizzles when it needs to sizzle. I’m also disappointed Besson never got his butt kicked by the heroine. Surely that would have been the only appropriate fate to befall him.

Author: Richter Watkins
Publisher: Pryde Multimedia, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
A stand-alone novel.

Ballerina (2023)

  By

★★★
“It is very chilly in Korea.”

I should be clear, this is not to be confused with next year’s action movie about a female killer called Ballerina. That one will be part of the John Wick universe. This South Korean film isn’t. Indeed, it’s very much its own creature – perhaps too much so. It feels like a hit-woman film directed by Nicolas Winding Refn: it’s all neon lights and understated emotions, to the point of coldness. For some reason, it feels as if everything past getting out of bed is a chore for the characters here, with almost every action feeling as it it were preceded by an imaginary sigh. The ennui is overpowering, to steal a line from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galazy.

The heroine is Okju (Jeon), a bodyguard whose best friend Min-hee (Park) kills herself after being abused by serial predator and sex trafficker, Choi Pro (Kim). Okju makes it her own, personal mission to take revenge on Choi. It’s a difficult job, due to the protection he’s afforded by being part of a larger criminal enterprise, run by Chief Jo (Kim). Min-hee realizes edged weapons aren’t enough, and needs a firearm – something which proves considerably more difficult to obtain locally, than in your typical action movie. On the other hand, Jo is increasingly tired of Choi’s attitude, as he becomes more trouble than he’s worth. Still, giving up a member to an outsider isn’t something any gang leader does casually.

It does feel like this is very much a case of style over substance. After an opening which sees Okju utterly unfazed when wandering through a convenience store robbery in progress, you will have quite a while to wait for the next slice of action. That takes place after she has convinced Choi to take her to a seedy motel, after she has discovered the horrific truth about his activities. The subsequent set-piece illustrates an odd tendency for the film to shift into comedy, as someone attacks Okju with a chainsaw, only for an unfortunately timed door opening to derail the attack. More successful is the later scene where she buys weapons from a travelling husband and wife, which has a quirky charm that’s endearing. I’d watch Adventures of the Gun-Running Van.

The rest is occasionally successful, and occasionally not. The action is over-sharply edited, though does stay on this side of coherence. However, there just wasn’t sufficient emotional connection for me. Admittedly, this may have partly been deliberate. It felt we were never given much reason to get on board with Okju’s guest for vengeance: her revenge seems more of a job than a passion project. She shows up, does what’s necessary, then clocks out and goes home, to stare blankly off into the distance, illuminated by a pastel glow. I’m hopeful 2024’s Ballerina – the title here refers to the best friend, incidentally, not the protagonist – will be more memorable than than this well-crafted piece of neon fluff.

Dir: Lee Chung-hyun
Star: Jeon Jong-seo, Kim Ji-hoon, Park Yu-rim, Mu-Yeol Kim