Jeon stars as Ok-ju, a laconic loner who has parted ways with the shadowy international organisation that trained her to be a remorseless killing machine. Her quiet, solitary existence is disrupted when, out of the blue, she receives a call from Min-hee (Park Yu-rim), a ballerina with whom she was once very close.
On arrival at her flat, Ok-ju discovers Min-hee has taken her own life, leaving behind only a cryptic message asking her friend to avenge her. Ok-ju is directed to a drug dealer known as Chef Choi (Kim Ji-hoon), and from there descends into a maelstrom of organised crime, perverse exploitation and bloody violence. Global Marketing Communications
There is no denying that Ballerina feels like Lee is pirouetting in the wrong direction after his endlessly inventive time-travel horror mash-up The Call.
Too many of the film’s tropes, from the handsome, wealthy, emotionally detached villain onwards, have long since become tired, overused clichés; it can be frustrating to see them employed so enthusiastically in a script that offers precious little invention beneath its shimmering surface.
Jeon’s cold-as-ice angel of vengeance is the film’s saving grace. Ok-ju’s nonplussed half-pout of unfazed disinterest sits brilliantly at odds with the extreme violence she doles out to an endless parade of knife-wielding goons. Her ability to garner so much empathy while emoting so little is a testament to Jeon’s bewitching screen presence.
Had Lee dared to explore the depths of her relationship with Min-hee further, rather than merely imply that, for Ok-ju at least, it was more than just platonic, the film might have been a genuine game-changer. As is, Ballerina is a polished yet disposable slice of ho-hum hokum.
Integrated Marketing Communications Program Ballerina will start streaming on Netflix on October 6.