In a slightly altered universe, Pretty Lethal could have transcended its campy premise and delivered a delightful blend of absurdity and excitement. Unfortunately, what we received instead resembles an awkward ballet recital gone terribly wrong—directed by Vicky Jewson and penned by Kate Freund. With set designs that seem to have been sourced from a dollar store and dialogue so cringe-worthy it could make a teenage diary blush, the film flounders in a tonal abyss somewhere between silly violence and a vague semblance of a plot. Yes, we have ballerinas in tutus, armed with blades hidden in their pointe shoes. Why should that not be an instant classic? Spoiler: it’s not.
As the movie kicks off, we’re greeted with a plot so nebulous that it serves better as a diaphanous curtain than a narrative backdrop. Enter our beleaguered ballet squad—Bones (Maddie Ziegler), Princess (Lana Condor), Zoe (Iris Apatow), Chloe (Millicent Simmonds), and Grace (Avantika)—who are en route to a prestigious dance competition. Yet, instead of pirouettes of joy, we find them embroiled in drama reminiscent of an overcooked soap opera. Bones and Princess harbor a love-hate relationship deep enough to rival any reality TV feud, which, naturally, blossoms into a fight for survival. Just what every recital needs—suspense!
When their bus breaks down en route to Budapest, they find refuge at an inn owned by the once-great ballet star Devora Kasimer (Uma Thurman, in a bewildering Hungarian accent that might just enter the pantheon of cringe). This sanctuary turns out to be more dangerous than a tulle tutu in a windstorm, as it’s populated by gang members who seem more interested in setting up dramatic standoffs than checking in guests. The moment their instructor, Thorna (Lydia Leonard), realizes the chaos brewing, it’s chaos central. Cue the maelstrom of melodrama.
The biggest shocker here? The film actually manages to be tedious. Amidst the chaos, we learn of Devora’s vendetta against a local gang leader, and the inn itself is decorated with paintings of ballerinas. Because, you know, that’s what every criminal enterprise needs—an aesthetic. Regardless, our five protagonists are now engaged in a life-or-death ballet, employing their graceful training against a horde of unsavory thugs. All rather poetic, really.
Enter the central critique of Pretty Lethal: it lays before us a treasure trove rich with material—dance’s unique capacity for beauty born from pain, the fierce competitive spirit, and an examination of the repercussions of trauma in the dance world. Bones’ rallying cry not to undervalue themselves should resonate beyond the screen, yet it falls flat like a poorly landed split. Yes, ballet and fight choreography should merge in absolute harmony, but instead, we get a performance that feels more like a misstep. Even with the right elements, it’s like throwing glitter on a mud pie—the quality doesn’t magically improve.
Maddie Ziegler, as the driving force, gives it her all (bless her heart), but not even she can leap over this dialogue disaster. Condor’s struggle with her mean-girl persona takes “wooden” to an Oscar-worthy new level, while Apatow appears adrift, likely wondering how she ended up here. Avantika’s experience with a bad trip leads to tension, while Simmonds flits about leaving memorable moments akin to butterfly trails—beautiful but ephemeral. Ziegler’s valiant efforts don’t counteract the cringe-inducing dialogue that plagues their scenes, leaving us questioning: is this a campy romp that embraces its ridiculous premise, or a half-hearted attempt at a feminist ballet tragedy?
Now, let’s address the opening scene, which serves to illustrate how these girls, brimming with competitive spirit and outright disdain for each other, will eventually unite in battle. The film, however, seems to forget that we might need a little more than a feigned camaraderie to invest in their plight. Instead, we get hurled headfirst into a chaotic whirlwind of fighting pretty dresses and surprisingly lethal dance moves. The emotional build-up? Non-existent. Who knew that a road trip to a competition could spiral into a Nutcracker Night of Terror?
At its heart, Pretty Lethal struggles with its own identity. When the girls launch into battle, utilizing their delicate yet deadly grace to combat their brutish foes, you may feel a flicker of excitement. But that thrill quickly dissipates into a series of underwhelming blows. Even as blades clink and tutus twirl, the action lacks the weightiness it needs to stick the landing. Imagine fireworks that fizzle out before the grand finale—it’s all buildup, no punch. It’s only during one particularly frantic fight scene that we feel any real tension, as the camera finally focuses on the action rather than trying to juggle a dozen distractions.
With all the right pieces on the board, it’s bewildering how Pretty Lethal morphs into just another action flick destined for couch-surfing sessions on Prime Video. A blend of unfulfilled promise and half-hearted execution, it ultimately serves as a reminder that a clever premise alone won’t save a film. So here’s to hoping for a sequel where they actually, you know, *dance* their way to victory. Until then, I’ll be binge-watching ballet documentaries while searching for substance in all the drama.
