She's graceful, mysterious, deadly. In film after film, the Russian ballerina glides across the screen. Elegant, yet dangerous.
Her every movement precise. Her body both a weapon and a work of art. She isn't just dancing, she's hunting.
From Red Sparrow to ballerina. From spy thrillers to superhero franchises. This figure recurs like a fantasy. The cold, disciplined, hyper-feminine assassin. Forged in hardship, trained to seduce and destroy.
But behind the silk and steel of this cinematic archetype lies a much darker reality. What does it mean when Western and European media repeatedly romanticizes this blend of beauty and brutality? What cultural myths does it perpetuate and at what cost? As a Ukrainian, I find it deeply disturbing how the global media continues to romanticize Russian cultural imagery, especially when it is rooted in violence, erasure, and imperial domination.
It's about a system, a culture, that glamorizes cruelty while actively destroying lives in places like my homeland. The same state that funds the ballet also funds the bombs that fall on our cities. Right now, as my home country, Ukraine, endures the fourth year of... full-scale invasion by Russia, Hollywood is releasing yet another film that leans into this very trope.
Ballerina, starring Anna de Armas, features a familiar story of a Russian-trained dancer who becomes a lethal assassin. It's a narrative that feels increasingly disconnected from the brutal reality behind the fantasy and from the real-world violence that this image so often obscures. Hi, everyone. My name is Alona and you're watching Femme Fatale's Heels channel, where we talk about women, film, and women in film.
And in this video, I'm going to unpack the enduring trope of the Russian ballerina assassin. I'll trace its roots, explore its appeal, and examine how it reflects and distorts not just Russia's political legacy, but also our global fascination with violence wrapped in velvet. Because while the image may be seductive, the story beneath it is far from beautiful.
Case file one, enchant the audience with a ballerina and then stab with a knife. In Western pop culture, the archetype of the Russian woman is often drawn in chilling detail. Cold, seductive, and lethal.
When she's a ballerina, the symbolism becomes even more striking. Her body is trained to perfection. Disciplined, elegant, controlled. But instead of dancing for beauty, she dances for blood.
This figure. is the perfect disguise. Beneath the delicate pointe shoes and flawless posture lies a ruthless killer.
Her physical grace masks violence. Her femininity becomes a weapon. The ballerina assassin doesn't cry, doesn't hesitate.
She obeys. She kills with precision because she was trained to do nothing else. It's no coincidence that this archetype fits so neatly into imperial narratives.
A woman stripped of autonomy, sculpted into silence and submission, becomes the ideal product of empire. She doesn't act from personal desire, but from beauty. Her beauty is not her own, but part of a performance designed to seduce and destroy. This element of seductive beauty is especially emphasized in films like Red Sparrow and Anna in both.
the protagonist's physical attractiveness is weaponized explicitly used to manipulate, seduce, and eliminate targets. In Red Sparrow, the main character is trained in a brutal system that teaches young people to use their bodies as tools of espionage, erasing boundaries between sexuality and state violence. Anna follows a similar trajectory beneath the glamorous facade of a fashion model.
I know she's not a ballerina, but all other parts felt perfect. lies a government-trained assassin whose allure is as calculated as her kills. In both cases, beauty is not just surface. It is strategy, constructed to deceive and destroy. Fuckable, I suppose.
Useful as a honey trap. But beyond that, I can't see what I can do with her. The ballerina's training becomes not just a metaphor, but a mechanism. A system that breaks the will and bends the body. And when Western films celebrate her as both victim and villain, they blur the line between tragedy and spectacle, turning the trauma of control into aesthetic pleasure.
One could argue that Russian women are often reduced to hyper-sexualized and exoticized tropes in Western cinema, and I agree to an extent. But I'd argue this isn't just about Russianness. It's something that affects most Slavic women in global media, where we're frequently portrayed as cold, mysterious, seductive, and dangerous. And yet, these cinematic archetypes, intelligent, poised, and lethally alluring, can distort how the world perceives real women from these regions. Because behind the fantasy, there is a darker reality.
Today, some of the same Russian women romanticized on screen are actively encouraging their sons and husbands to commit atrocities in Ukraine. In intercepted calls released publicly over the past years, we've heard wives urging their husbands to loot, rape, and kill with impunity. So, let's say that Ukrainian women are being raped, and you don't say anything, okay? I was convinced today. You raped women, and you don't say anything?
Yes, so that you don't know anything. And what? Can I? Yes, you can. Just be safe.
Okay. These are not isolated cases. They reflect a wider culture of dehumanization that is anything but glamorous. Case file two, make trauma and violence beautiful. Another recurring pattern in these narratives is the romanticization of suffering.
Poverty, brutality, and physical abuse are not simply shown. They're stylized, aestheticized, even glorified. Pain becomes part of the allure, a mark of resilience or mystique. The cold orphanages, harsh training camps, and scenes of bodily torture are presented not as tragedies, but as rites of passage. As if endurance through pain is what makes these women strong, special, and seductive.
When does the good fairy come in? Never. It's a story without hope. In Red Sparrow, Dominica's sexual humiliation and physical suffering at the hands of the state are portrayed as necessary sacrifices on her path to mastery. You knew.
what would happen once I got him in the room, didn't you? You wouldn't have gone if I had told you what had to happen. I would have had a choice.
You know what I do. You came to me, that was your choice. In Anna, a similar story unfolds. Anna endures years of violence and control, but it's all framed as part of her transformation into the perfect killing machine.
This glamorization of pain and hardship is also central to the film Salt, where Angelina Jolie plays Evelyn Salt, a CIA officer with a secret past as a Russian sleeper agent. While not a ballerina, Salt's backstory fits neatly into the trope of the Russian-trained assassin. She was taken from her family as a child and raised in brutal Soviet camps, conditioned through violence and psychological manipulation.
The film frames her traumatic upbringing not as a tragedy to be mourned, but as the very reason for her lethal skills and mystique. Her suffering becomes an aesthetic, elegant, controlled, and oddly admirable. Once again, pain is packaged as a prerequisite for power, reinforcing the seductive narrative that out of brutal systems come dangerous, beautiful women shaped into perfect weapons. This creation.
You trained me well. These films promote the idea that trauma is not only formative, but somehow beautiful. This reflects a broader Western fascination with the so-called mysterious Russian soul, where pain is synonymous with the idea of pain.
with depth and cruelty with discipline. But this glamorization of violence, especially state inflicted violence, subtly reinforces dangerous myths about Russia, about womanhood, and about power. It masks oppression as empowerment and turns abuse into character development.
Case File 3, the KGB as a brand or make totalitarianism sexy again. In Western cinema, the figure of the Soviet or Russian spy is often more myth than reality, less political agent, more seductive symbol. Especially when it comes to female spies, the trope leans heavily into an exoticized fantasy. The other, who is dangerous, unknowable, yet irresistibly alluring.
The KGB, once a symbol of fear and oppression, has been repackaged into a kind of stylish mystique. These characters are often portrayed with the same sleek sophistication as James Bond, only with a Russian accent and a darker past. Whether it's Red Sparrow's Dominica or Salt's Evelyn, their affiliations with Russian intelligence don't evoke horror or suspicion, but intrigue. The brutality of the state becomes background noise to the glamour of the spy's lifestyle.
Their deadliness is part of their charm. This trope sanitizes the very real terror. that the KGB and its modern equivalents like the FSB inflicted and continue to inflict. It turns historical violence into entertainment and propaganda into personality. The result is a distorted image where oppression is seductive and the tools of totalitarian control become symbols of strength and sex appeal.
Case file four, pirouettes for propaganda or ballet as a symbol of imperial culture. In western imagination, Russian ballet, particularly institutions like the Bolshoi and Mariinsky, is synonymous with elegance, discipline, and artistic mastery. It's often portrayed as the cultural jewel of Russia, refined, apolitical, and timeless.
But in reality, Ballet has been deeply intertwined with imperial and state power throughout Russian history. Under both the Tsarist regime and the Soviet Union, ballet was co-opted as a propaganda tool. During Stalin's rule, ballets were subject to strict censorship, and premieres were attended by party elites, with repertories carefully crafted to align with ideological goals.
Choreographers, dancers, and company leaders were often under close surveillance by the KGB or directly collaborated with the state. The careers of even the most famous dancers were dependent on their political compliance. But despite this global romanticization of Russian ballet, you can say Alona, ballet is not exclusively Russian, and you will be right. By far, I can add that Ukrainian dancers and companies have long contributed to the art form, even as their cultural identity has been overshadowed or erased. In fact, in April 2025, During Russia's ongoing full-scale invasion of Ukraine, a shocking report emerged.
A troupe of Russian ballet dancers was caught performing in Sweden while masquerading as a Ukrainian company. The deception wasn't just a branding tactic. It was an extension of cultural imperialism, exploiting Western sympathy for Ukraine while obscuring Russian complicity in war. This incident highlights how, even in the arts, Russia continues to assert cultural dominance through manipulation and disguise. It reinforces the need to interrogate which narratives we're consuming and whose voices and identities are being silenced or stolen in the process.
Case File 5. Russia as a Dark Fairy Tale. In many Western films, Russia functions as a cinematic backdrop for brutality, fatalism, and cold austerity. It's often depicted not as a real place, but as a mythic landscape of suffering and violence. A gothic fairy tale gone wrong. In Red Sparrow, Russia is a bleak world of poverty, abuse, and cruelty, where children are raised in secret programs to become emotionless weapons of the state.
Snow, grime, and broken bodies make up the visual language. Even in Black Widow, where there is a superficial attempt to humanize the characters, the Russian system is portrayed as an inescapable machine of control and dehumanization. Even outside the trope of the deadly ballerina, Russian characters are often portrayed as charmingly brutal, like Red Guardian in Black Widow. He's a former Soviet super-soldier, loud, violent, and blindly loyal to the regime, but the film frames him as comedic relief. His nostalgia for Soviet glory is played for laughs, softening the image of an oppressive regime and turning brutality into a quirk.
quirky personality trait. This adds another layer to the mythologized, almost folkloric view of Russia, where even agents of state violence become lovable caricatures. Its aestheticized darkness creates a compelling visual myth, but also a dangerous illusion.
Russia is framed as a land of tragic victims and haunted history, rather than what it truly is, a modern-day imperial power. actively waging war, committing atrocities, and attempting to erase neighboring cultures. The myth of the sad, cursed nation allows audiences to feel sympathy without accountability, to pity Russia, but not to name it for what it is, a violent aggressor. It's worth acknowledging that in films like Salt, Anna, and Red Sparrow, the Russian system is not portrayed as aspirational, quite the opposite. My wife had dreams of being a dancer, long before I met her.
When she fell ill, the Russian Embassy in New York refused to let an American doctor operate on her. Son... Petty bureaucrat I've offended sentenced to death. You've worked for the KGB this year, five years, ten.
Be happy and proud to serve your country. With respect, I'm happy and proud to serve my country. I've eliminated 27 targets in two years, but I've been told that... There's only one way to leave the KGB. These characters often seek to escape it, defecting to the West or making deals...
with American intelligence to secure freedom. Their flight is framed as a moral awakening or a bid for survival, underscoring the brutality and corruption of the system they were trained by. All you're offering is the same shit I get from my people.
Be a slave or die. Don't you consider yourself better than the Russians? This element reflects a real-world truth.
Many people under authoritarian regimes dream of escape. However, this narrative of defection doesn't cancel out the underlying romanticization of the assassin trope itself. The deadly allure, the stylized violence, the sexualized mystique, all of that remains, making the character seductive to Western audiences even as she flees the very country that shaped her. Pace File 6, Trope Check, Ballerina Review.
Now that we've unpacked the core elements of the project, of the Russian ballerina assassin trope, from its imperial roots to its seductive violence. It's time to ask, does Ballerina with Ana de Armas, the newest entry in this cinematic tradition, fall into the same pattern? To begin with, I want to say this honestly.
I genuinely like the John Wick franchise. I think it's a great example of quality action cinema that kept evolving and getting richer and more compelling with each new film. Personally, my favorite installment is John Wick Chapter 3. I find its action both dramatic and entertaining.
The cinematography is gorgeous. The stunts and fights are fantastic. It all just looks and feels sharp, driven, and engaging. And in many ways, Ballerina follows that same path. I understand that this isn't a historical drama.
It's an action movie, and it does its job well. There are some creative fight scenes that are sometimes funny, sometimes tense, and often exciting. I enjoyed Ana de Armas in the lead role.
The cinematography and lighting were top-notch as usual, and the plot had an intriguing premise. And I want to be honest here, too. I genuinely enjoyed Ballerina.
But if you removed every single element related to the glorification of so-called Russian culture from the film, absolutely nothing would change in terms of plot or character development. Let's start with a basic question. Is Ana de Armas' character even Russian? Some promotional materials call her a Russian ballerina turned assassin, but in the actual film, her nationality is never mentioned.
In fact, her name, Eva Macaro, sounds Italian, or maybe even more fitting for a Spanish-speaking character, which would make sense considering Ana de Armas herself is Cuban and Spanish. I'm not sure whether her father speaks with a Russian accent. I watched the film in Ukrainian dubbing, so I might have missed that detail. But as far as I could tell, Eva never says a single word in Russian, and her national or cultural identity is completely absent from the film.
So where does the Russia element come from? The answer lies in the organization that trained her, the Rusko-Roma. But even this is ambiguous. For example, in a previous John Wick film, Wick refers to himself as a child of Belarus. and we know he was also trained by the Ruska Roma.
If we assume his age matches that of Keanu Reeves, then he would have been born when Belarus was still part of the USSR. And honestly, not much has changed since. But again, that Belarusian origin seems more like a piece of exotic world building than something with real narrative weight. Maybe the writers just felt Belarus sounded slightly less overused than Russia.
Either way, it adds nothing to our understanding of the Ruska Roma. Eva's sister is named Lena, a common name in Russia, yes, but also in Ukraine, Belarus, and many other Slavic countries. Even the term Ruska Roma doesn't automatically mean Russian. The historical term Rus is shared across various Eastern Slavic cultures. For instance, Kiev, the capital of Ukraine, used to be the center of Kievan Rus.
So again, the cultural reference is broad, not specifically Russian. And yet, throughout the film, the visual and symbolic language clearly leans into Russian aesthetics. We get shots of ballet training, Tchaikovsky's music, and even direct nods to Tarkovsky's films. It seems clear the filmmakers chose to use a Russian narrative package, not because it was meaningful, but because it was atmospheric.
One of the most absurd examples of this is the use of the word Kikimora. In Slavic mythology... Kikimura is a spirit That exists in the shadows To those with darkness in their hearts she can be vengeful But to the innocent she can be a protector In the film, Kikimora is a title for a dangerous assassin, which honestly sounds ridiculous.
Yes, a Kikimora is a figure from Slavic folklore, but it's not terrifying. So when this term came up in the Ukrainian cinema, the audience literally giggled. This is just another example of how the filmmakers use Slavic and Russian references not for their real meaning, but purely for exotic flavor.
everything I've previously discussed. aestheticizing suffering as strength, romanticizing ballet as the pinnacle of art and discipline, portraying the Russian soul as tragic, mystical, and unbreakable. It's all in this film, and yet none of it matters to the actual story. The film never explains what Ruska Roma is, how it operates, who it recruits, or what its relationship to the outside world is. It's just a set piece, a stylish background.
And that's my main point. If the film had dropped all this superficial romanticizing of Russia for Russia's sake, it would actually be a better film. There's actually a great example of what could have worked instead of all the unnecessary Russian symbolism.
In one scene, inside the office of the director of Ruska Roma, played by Angelica Houston, there's a painting on the wall, Judith beheading Holofernes. It's one of my favorite paintings, and later in the film, We even see another version of the same subject blurred in the background of her office. Even though the film doesn't deal directly with sexual violence, only revenge, it's clear this image of a woman beheading the man who hurt her is meant as an allegory for the main character.
And the film never points this out. It's just a subtle, powerful visual planted bare by the set designers. So why not lean more into this kind of symbolism? Layered, thoughtful, and meaningful. instead of relying on tired romanticizations of Russia.
In conclusion, I want to say that the Russian ballerina assassin is not just a sexy trope. It's a mask, a symbol of how the West chooses to see Russia. Elegant, tragic, mysterious. But behind that mask is an empire that has long used art to distract from oppression.
And maybe it's time to stop romanticizing the ballet. and so-called Russian culture as a whole, and start asking what it's built upon and what it's been used to justify. And as a result, the world is in chaos. Only Russia is willing to make the sacrifices required for victory. For there to be peace, we must once again place ourselves at the head of nations.
Thank you for watching. If you enjoyed this video, feel free to like, subscribe, and share it. I'll be covering more topics like this, looking at film, media, and how stories shape the way we see the world.
Let me know your thoughts in the comments, and see you in the next one.