To understand the gravity of Part Two, we must revisit the finale of Breaking Pointe. Odette Delacroix (played with haunting fragility by Method actress Sasha Pivovarova) limped off the stage of the Paris Opéra Ballet after a catastrophic Achilles injury. Her rival, Elise Graves (a breakout performance by competitive gymnast-turned-actress Mia Holland), took the lead in Giselle. But the first film ended not with triumph, but with a question mark: Elise, backstage, clutching Odette’s broken pointe shoe, a look of terror—not joy—on her face.
Breaking.Pointe.Part.Two..Odette.Delacroix..Elise.Graves picks up three years later. Odette has become a ruthless, alcoholic choreographer in Berlin. Elise, now a principal dancer, suffers from imposter syndrome so severe she has developed conversion disorder—her legs give out without warning mid-pirouette. The two are forced to collaborate on a radical, degenerative version of Swan Lake titled “The Dying Swan: A Requiem.”
The search term Breaking.Pointe.Part.Two..Odette.Delacroix..Elise.Graves has exploded on forums like Reddit’s r/TrueFilm and Letterboxd. Fans are dissecting every frame. There are theory threads suggesting that Odette and Elise are the same person (a Fight Club interpretation), or that Elise is a ghost (the lighting often makes her translucent). But the consensus is clear: this is not a “dance movie.” It is a horror film wearing a tutu. Breaking.Pointe.Part.Two..Odette.Delacroix..Elise.Graves
For those who loved Whiplash, The Red Shoes, or Perfect Blue, this film is required viewing. It asks a question few artists dare to voice: If you remove the suffering, do you remove the art?
Director Katarina Voss (known for Iron Ribbon and Hollow Bone) shoots Breaking.Pointe.Part.Two..Odette.Delacroix..Elise.Graves like a war film. The color palette shifts from the warm, golden rehearsal rooms of the first film to the cold, blue-grey concrete of a repurposed Eastern Bloc warehouse. The sound design is revolutionary: every sous-sus sounds like a gunshot; every fall onto a sprung floor echoes like a body hitting pavement. To understand the gravity of Part Two ,
Voss uses the pointe shoe as a recurring motif. In one close-up, we see Odette hammering the toe box of a new pair, breaking the shank with a pair of pliers. “They have to hurt,” she mutters. “If they are comfortable, you are lying.” Later, Elise soaks her feet in a bucket of ice water while crying silently—the same frame showing Odette drinking vodka in the background. They are two solitudes sharing one tragedy.
Academics have already begun analyzing the film through the lens of Foucault’s discipline and punish. The ballet studio becomes a panopticon: Odette watches from a chair above the barre, a one-way mirror behind her. Elise is never sure if she is being observed or ignored, and that uncertainty becomes its own torture. But the first film ended not with triumph,
But the film also subverts the male gaze. There are no lecherous directors, no predatory producers. The violence is entirely internal, female-on-female, but not in a catty Black Swan way. It is existential. Odette and Elise are fighting for the same thing: proof that they existed, that their suffering meant something. In the final scene (spoiler alert, but the film has been out for two weeks), they perform The Dying Swan together. Odette, unable to dance, sits on a throne and conducts with a cane. Elise, bleeding into her costume, dances not for the audience but at Odette. It is a conversation, a duel, and a eulogy.
In the last frame, Elise takes a bow. Odette does not applaud. She just stares. Then, a single tear cuts through her foundation. Cut to black.
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