Ana de Armas in Ballerina: Vulnerability is Her Charm

I recently watched the new trailer for Ballerina (2025). Honestly, ever since Keanu Reeves turned the John Wick universe into a new benchmark for modern action films, I've been holding my breath for all related spin-offs. After all, when you have such a high standard set before you, it's tough to surpass, or even just maintain, that level.

After watching the trailer, I felt somewhat relieved, or rather, quite excited.

In the trailer, Ana de Armas ' character, the ballerina assassin Rooney, fights beautifully. Notice I said beautifully, not effectively. The elements of ballet in a movement—the spins and leaps make a unique rhythm, thanks to her body's flexibility. It's not something you see often in action films. But at the same time, you can clearly sense her struggle. She's not like John Wick, that man who descends upon the killing field like the Grim Reaper and finishes everyone in no time. Rooney gets hurt in fights and has to gasp for breath, showing fatigue as well as her limits. Every success seems hard-won, achieved only by pushing herself to the brink.

And that's precisely what captivated me most in the trailer. Not the cool, dance-like killing sequences, but the occasional moments of her struggle, which makes the character feel real and believable. John Wick's power is almost mythical. Watching him cut through everyone is thrilling, sure, but deep down, we know it's pure fantasy. Rooney's struggle, however, makes it easier for me to relate to, and that makes me more eager to see how she survives and grows through each new danger. Keanu Reeves also appears in the trailer; it looks like he's hunting Rooney. In one scene, facing the seemingly insurmountable wall that is John Wick, an expression flickers across Rooney's face. It's brief, but I caught it. It wasn't pure fear... more like... a subtle hint of despair. A sense of powerlessness, recognizing her own smallness and the difficulty of her situation.

In that moment, it was like something suddenly clicked.

Ana de Armas, the Cuban beauty is often labeled "one of the most beautiful women in the world", which is widely acknowledged by.magazine covers and red carpet spotlight But to be honest, I don't always feel the same way. Sometimes, I find her truly stunning under certain lighting or from a specific angle. But other times, it feels like... she's just okay? Like something's missing, or that striking quality doesn't quite hold my attention.

This isn't criticism but more like a puzzling musing. Her face is undeinably pretty and her body undoubtedly hot, but there seems to be something missing—some more complex quality that someone true charm or appeal. It's a fluid, elusive thing. I never quite figured out what the "feeling" is that I had about her from time to time.

Until I saw that look of despair in the Ballerina trailer. I realized that, for me, Ana de Armas's greatest appeal might just be that vulnerability she inadvertently reveals.

This vulnerability isn't about weakness or needing protection. It's something deeper. It's a fragility hidden beneath a strong exterior; a potential loneliness and insecurity behind a confident smile; it's the raw humanity exposed when facing uncontrollable fate.

Think back to her previous roles:

In Blade Runner 2049 (2017), her virtual companion Joi is dreamlike, fulfilling almost every male fantasy of the perfect partner. But her most moving moments aren't the sweet interactions, but when she yearns to be "real." Her illusory yet vulnerable declaration of "I love you" to K on that rainy billboard, K's sense of loss when her program finally vanishes. Her very existence is a combination of extreme beauty and extreme fragility. That tragic sense of "I am so perfect, yet I am not real," conveyed through Ana's performance, is heartbreaking.

In Knives Out (2019), her roel as the caregiver Marta is kind and honest. She was accidentally caught in a complex inheritance battle, unfortunately. The role isn't the traditional femme fatale or brilliant female detective. Her "weapon" is her goodness and an almost instinctual honesty (the vomiting-when-lying quirk is interesting). When facing the scheming wealthy family members, her helplessness, nervousness, and inner moral struggles are written all over her face. She isn't fearless, but she chooese to do the right thing. This goodness under pressure and her obvious vulnerability makes her the emotional core of the film and wins the audience's heart.

Then there's Blonde (2022). The film is polarizing, but personally, I feel Ana's portrayal of Marilyn Monroe captures something essential. Setting aside debates about accent or resemblance, she successfully conveys the immense emptiness, insecurity, and manipulated pain behind the era's sex symbol. The dazzling blonde goddess on screen contrasts sharply with Norma Jeane, the little girl off-screen yearning for love and validation but constantly being hurt. Ana catches that deep-seated brokenness, that endless sorrow beneath the forced smiles. This is undoubtedly an extreme form of vulnerability,as well as the source of the character's tragic appeal.

These roles all showcase, to varying degrees, Ana de Armas's ability to portray vulnerability. When this quality combines with her beauty or the strengths granted to the character (like Marta's goodness or Joi's digital AI abilities), a fascinating chemistry occurs, making the character multi-dimensional, believable, and compelling.

Conversely, when she plays roles that purely emphasize "sexy" or "cool," I find her appeal diminishes somewhat. For instance, in Deep Water (2022), she plays a wife constantly provoking her husband, walking a dangerous line. Although the character is designed to be sexy and mysterious, I always feel it is a bit superficial, lacking that touching quality. Similarly, in The Gray Man (2022), her agent character is skilled and beautiful, but less memorable compared to the previously mentioned roles. And Ghosted (2023), an action-rom-com where she played a skilled female agent—beautiful and competent, but that seems to be about it. These roles certainly require acting skills, but they lean more heavily on Ana's physical advantages without giving her much space to display inner vulnerability and complexity. For me, in these instances, she's like a gorgeous poster—nice to look at, but lacking that soulful connection.

This might explain why I don't always recognize her charm. When I see a carefully packaged, perfect sex symbol, I think, "Yes, very beautiful," but that's about it. But when I catch that glimpse of vulnerability, struggle, or human imperfection in her characters, that's when I'm truly struck, thinking, "Ah, that's the real appeal."

It's like how I appreciate older cars, like my green Porsche Boxster—I call her "Greenblade." She isn't the newest or fastest car, her mechanics are relatively simple, she even has some quirks. But it's precisely this imperfection, this feeling that you need to understand and care for her, that gives her unique charm. Brand new sports cars packed with tech are great, of course, but sometimes they feel more like cold, efficient machines. Older cars have "personality," they have a "vulnerable" side.

Back to Ballerina. I'm really looking forward to this film. Not just for the exciting action sequences, but more so to see how Ana de Armas portrays the character Rooney. That fleeting glimpse of despair in the trailer gives me reason to believe this won't be a simple ballerina who just fights. I hope the film delves deep into her inner world, showing her struggles before becoming a ruthless killer, and her vulnerability and perseverance when facing formidable enemies and a harsh world.

If Ballerina successfully blends the elegance of ballet, the ruthlessness of an assassin, and the vulnerability of human nature, then Ana de Armas might once again create a truly memorable character. And I, as just an ordinary viewer and film critic, hope to be moved again by her unique beauty, the kind tinged with suspectibility.

After all, in a world that increasingly emphasizes "strength" and "perfection," it feels all the more precious to occasionally see genuine vulnerability. It reminds us that, regardless of appearances, we are ultimately complex, flesh-and-blood human beings. This vulnerability might be what resonates most deeply within us.