NØTATIØN
A FILM BY STEPHEN WAYNE MALLETT
PREMISE:
A mother's thirst for POWER & opulence leads to the unraveling of her bloodline.
SCRIPT
The story begins outside of inherited opulence, with Ellie (Dove Cameron) standing by the ocean, holding a small ashes urn. The waves crash rhythmically against the shore, their relentless energy mirroring the turmoil inside her. Tears trail silently down her cheeks as she debates pouring the ashes out, her fingers tightening around the cool metal. She exhales a shaky breath, a silent promise passing through her mind: Not today.
Cut to Ellie walking toward a common dance studio in the rain. The storm pelts her thin coat, but she doesn’t flinch. She is a vision of contradictions. Her fierce, penetrating eyes hold a quiet fragility beneath their intensity, captivating and unsettling in equal measure. The way her unkempt hair frames her face gives her an air of elegance, but there’s something deeper—a resilience softened by a hint of vulnerability.
She steps into the studio, the warmth inside wrapping around her as the rain traces rivulets down her coat. Ellie peels off layer by soaked layer, revealing a poised elegance beneath the storm’s chill. She pulls out a vintage iPod from her bag, the once-sleek device weathered by time but clearly cherished. Wrapping the headphones around it, she exhales, centering herself before stepping further in.
Around her, an unusual tension fills the lobby. Dancers cluster in tight groups, exchanging glances and hushed murmurs. Their voices are low, but the nervous energy vibrates through the room. Ellie pauses, her gaze sweeping over their anxious faces, confusion tightening her brow. What’s got everyone so on edge?
The answer comes with the sudden hush that falls over the room.
The sound of sharp, deliberate footsteps cuts through the buzz like a knife. The doors at the far end of the lobby open, and in walks Martha (Michelle Pfeiffer), a force of nature cloaked in elegance. Her every move is deliberate, her presence commanding. She’s draped in black with crimson silk lining catching the light as it sways with her movements. Her heels click in perfect rhythm, her gaze scanning the room with an unrelenting sharpness that makes everyone stand a little taller—or shrink a little smaller.
Behind her is Reid (Leonardo Dicaprio), his presence quieter but no less striking. He moves with a cane, the tap of its metal tip on the tiled floor punctuating his slower pace. A leg brace glints beneath his tailored slacks, lending him an air of vulnerability that contrasts Martha’s effortless dominance. Yet his steady gaze and composed demeanor suggest a hidden strength, a resolve that runs deeper than his apparent limitations.
The two of them together are a mystery—a balance of fire and ice, of grace and power, of strength and fragility. The room seems to contract around them, the air heavy with expectation.
Martha stops mid-room, pulling off her gloves one finger at a time with an almost theatrical precision. She hands them to Reid without looking, their silent exchange a testament to years of partnership. Ellie learns they are looking for an understudy for their next show.
“Let’s not waste time,” Martha says, her voice sharp and resonant. “Numbers. Now.”
The room springs into action. A flurry of movements as the dancers grab their assigned numbers, pinning them to their leotards and tank tops with shaky hands. Ellie moves to grab hers, her fingers brushing against the paper as the significance of this moment sinks in.
This isn’t just any audition. This is the dance company she’s dreamed of for years.
As she pins the number to her top, she glances toward Martha and Reid, who watch the room with hawk-like intensity. Reid leans slightly on his cane, his face unreadable, while Martha’s sharp eyes assess every movement, every hesitation.
Ellie straightens her posture, the iPod in her hand grounding her as she prepares herself. You’ve worked for this. You’ve earned this. Show them.
But even as she steels herself, a small ripple of unease creeps in, like the faint tremor before an earthquake.
The dancers are corralled into the studio, numbers pinned awkwardly to their damp clothing. Ellie moves with the rest, her heart pounding as she steps onto the polished wood floor. The studio, normally alive with the chatter of students and instructors, feels like a cathedral now—hushed, reverent, and charged with anticipation.
Martha and Reid stand at the front, their contrasting energies commanding every corner of the room. Martha paces slowly, her sharp heels echoing, as she scans the lineup of hopefuls. Her gaze lingers briefly on Ellie, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes meet. Ellie feels a jolt—of acknowledgment, of something almost like approval—but Martha’s expression reveals nothing.
Reid, seated now on a simple chair, adjusts his leg brace, his cane resting across his lap. His calm demeanor is deceptive, Ellie knows. He misses nothing.
“Positions,” Martha commands, her voice slicing through the air.
The dancers scatter, falling into lines. Ellie takes her place, second from the front. She adjusts her posture, shoulders back, chin high, hiding the turmoil roiling inside her.
The music starts.
Ellie moves, her body instinctively flowing into the choreography. Every step, every turn, every extension feels like a conversation she’s been rehearsing her entire life. The nerves in her chest dissolve, replaced by a quiet, fierce determination.
She feels Reid’s gaze on her, his eyes piercing, evaluating. And then there’s Martha, stepping onto the floor to guide the dancers. When Martha approaches Ellie, their movements sync as if by magic, the veteran guiding the novice with subtle cues. Ellie’s heart races—not from nerves but from a sense of belonging.
When the music ends, Ellie is breathless. She looks up to find Martha giving her a small nod, almost imperceptible but unmistakable. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, Martha winks as she wraps out of her orbit. Ellie glances towards Reid and he gives a subtle nod signifying her clenched victory.
Ellie’s chest swells. For the first time, she feels seen—not just as another dancer in the lineup, but as the one.
The audition over, Ellie moves to the lobby, her body still buzzing with adrenaline. Around her, the dancers gather in clusters, whispering and casting glances her way. She knows what they’re thinking—that she’s the clear choice, that she’s the one Martha will pick.
Karen, standing with her parents by the front desk, shoots Ellie a look. It’s not envy, not exactly. It’s something colder, sharper—a warning.
Ellie ignores her, focusing instead on the moment. The nod, the wink—Martha practically confirmed it. She gathers her things, the vintage iPod still in her hand like a talisman.
As she steps toward the door, something catches her eye. Outside, in the rain-drenched parking lot, Martha and Reid stand with Karen’s parents beneath a large black umbrella. The father is speaking in low tones, gesturing with one hand while the other holds an envelope.
Ellie’s feet stop mid-step.
The envelope exchanges hands, Martha accepting it with a practiced nonchalance that makes Ellie’s stomach turn. Reid lingers behind, his expression unreadable. Then he looks up, and their eyes meet through the rain-streaked glass.
Ellie’s breath catches.
There’s something in his gaze—a flicker of guilt, hesitation, perhaps even regret. But before she can process it, Reid shifts his weight, turning away as Martha’s sharp voice cuts through the rain.
Ellie’s chest tightens, the realization sinking in like a lead weight. The nod, the wink—everything she thought meant something—crumbles under the weight of what she just witnessed.
Karen’s smug smile from earlier flashes in her mind, and Ellie feels the ground beneath her slipping away.
The rain greets her as she stumbles outside, her coat offering little protection against the storm. She doesn’t bother to pull her hood up, the cold and wet almost welcome against the heat of her anger and despair.
Ellie leans against the wall of the building, her breaths shallow and ragged. Her hand trembles as she digs through her bag, pulling out the pack of American Spirits. She hasn’t smoked in weeks, but this moment demands something to dull the ache.
The flame flickers in the wind as she lights the cigarette, her fingers shaking. She inhales deeply, the smoke curling out into the storm, mingling with her tears. She looks toward the parking lot, where Martha and Reid’s car is pulling away, taillights fading into the rain. Her eyes burn with unshed tears.
SCENE 02 - A
The camera pulls back as a drone lifts above the rain-soaked parking lot, transitioning into a sweeping montage of Martha and Reid’s black Escalade slicing through winding roads. Martha at the wheel, weaving through towering trees, the glint of wet pavement reflecting its powerful frame, close-ups of its wheels kicking up sprays of water and a nervous Reid in the passenger seat.
They arrive at the gates of their estate—a towering structure of wrought iron, crowned with baroque flourishes. The gates creak open with a mechanical groan, revealing the grounds: a place of contradictions. Tungsten bulbs cast warm halos over freshly painted walls, clashing with harsh, dramatic shadows that stretch like claws across the white stone pathways. The rain pounds relentlessly, pooling in the grooves of ancient cobblestones.
The estate itself looms like a fortress, its walls thick and impenetrable, whispering stories of inherited power. In the distance, an iconic outdoor theater comes into view: concentric white circular platforms stacked like a surreal wedding cake, their design exuding the exclusivity of a high-fashion runway. Marble pillars surround the stage, each adorned with intricate sculptures that seem almost alive under the storm's flickering light.
Baphomet, his torch of knowledge ablaze above his head, watches over the scene, flanked by the caduceus—a twisted harmony of healing and poison. At the center of the stage, “Solve et Coagula” is painted in bold strokes, a reminder of destruction and creation intertwined.
Beyond the theater, rows of dark durif grapes glisten in the moonlight, their sturdy vines defiant against the howling wind and pounding rain. The vineyard, ancient and regal, is a stark contrast to the modern decadence of the estate.
The Escalade halts before a private wing, and Martha steps out first, her heels striking the wet stone with the confidence of someone who owns the very ground she walks on. Reid follows, slower, leaning heavily on his cane as his leg brace squeaks faintly with the effort.
The estate’s private dance studio glows with the clinical brilliance of professional lighting as ANNA (Elle Fanning) comes into view standing in the center of a photo shoot, poised on a raised platform, her movements fluid yet deliberate as the photographer clicks away. Her long, flowing dress cascades like water, every fold and angle designed to captivate.
The room hums with quiet energy—assistants adjusting lights, a makeup artist dabbing powder on Anna’s cheek, the photographer issuing rapid-fire instructions.
“Chin up. Perfect. Hold it...look away - now back.”
Anna glides to the computer smiling over their collaboration until the door bursts open. Martha sweeps in like a storm, her coat sliding off her shoulders and into Reid’s waiting hands. She doesn’t pause to greet anyone She moves to a bar at the side of the studio, pouring herself a generous glass of Petite Sirah. The wine, bold and inky, swirls in the glass like a potion of power. She gulps it down, the rim of the glass catching the light to reveal a pentagram etched into its surface. Something shifts in Martha’s demeanor as she sets the glass down—a subtle descent into something darker, more menacing. She moves towards the photo shoot.
“Let me see them,” Martha demands, moving to the photographer’s DIT station.
The photographer hesitates but steps aside as Martha scrolls through the freshly captured images. Her finger moves with precision, slashing away the ones she dislikes. “No. No. Absolutely not. What were you thinking with this lighting? It’s way too warm - this piece is cold blooded and dramatic. - Fix it. ”
Reid, standing by the door, smiles warmly and moves toward Anna. He wraps her in a gentle hug, his presence a rare moment of comfort in the otherwise tense room.
“You’re glowing,” he whispers.
Anna chuckles and smiles faintly, but the strain in her eyes betrays her. “Thanks, Uncle Reid.”
Before Reid can say more, the double doors swing open again, and Karen and her parents walk in, their smiles wide but shallow. Their presence is like a sudden chill of arrogance.
Martha turns, her expression instantly sharp towards Reid “Why are they here?” she hisses to Reid, her voice low and venomous.
Reid sighs, maintaining his composure. “Part of their... contribution included Karen being featured in the promo material. It’s already been arranged.”
Martha’s wine glass slams onto the table, splashing a few dark drops onto the white marble. She steps closer, her voice razor-sharp. “Tell them to stay out of my sight.” Reid responds “Martha, this family is interested in being a major player with us.” Martha’s eyes snap into a business moment calming her posture and tone “Make them feel important, but do not compromise our image for some shitty understudy”
Reid nods smoothly, his showman’s smile never faltering. He approaches Karen’s parents with an exaggerated warmth, guiding them toward a quieter corner.
“Let’s do a separate set of solo shots for Karen,” he says with practiced charm. “That way, she’ll truly stand out. It’ll be spectacular. We’ll send them to you by tonight.”
The parents exchange glances, then nod, satisfied.
Karen steps onto the platform, as she sets up her own ring light—a cheap, plastic thing that casts harsh, uneven shadows.
“Uh, what are you doing?” the photographer asks, his voice tight.
Karen waves him off. “I need to post a reel hold on.”
She adjusts her phone, striking overly exaggerated poses in front of the camera. The fine art atmosphere of the shoot dissolves into cringe as Karen dances awkwardly to a trending audio clip. The ring light’s garish glow clashes with the studio’s refined setup, turning the moment into a mockery of the carefully curated scene.
Martha watches from a distance, her knuckles white as she grips her wine glass. Her lips press into a thin line, the rage simmering beneath her polished exterior. Karen’s parents smile and clap like they are at a youth soccer game.
Cut to Ellie shooting photos at a wedding. Her movements are calculated, almost feline, her camera an extension of her body. The wedding reception is alive with chaos—laughter, clinking glasses, the thump of bass-heavy music—but she navigates it effortlessly, her keen eyes spotting moments of intimacy and joy. She crouches low to frame a shot of the couple’s hands intertwined, then pivots smoothly to catch the grandmother wiping a tear from her eye. Her 70-200 lens swings across the dance floor, zooming in on the flower girl twirling like a tiny ballerina. Sweat beads on her temple as she adjusts her settings on the fly, the low light of the venue challenging but invigorating. She thrives in the speed, the precision, the artistry of capturing fleeting moments.
The scene shifts back to Karen, clumsily spinning in her dress, her phone propped at an awkward angle. The photographer looks on helplessly, his professional setup ignored. Karen’s parents smile like they are at a youth soccer game.
Ellie pauses to download her footage onto her laptop, sipping alkaline water as she scrolls through social media on her phone.
Karen’s TikTok pops up on her feed.
Ellie freezes, her brows furrowing. The poorly lit video, the exaggerated poses, the absurdity of the moment inside the world she will never be a part of—it all floods her with frustration. She gently closes her laptop shut, tossing her gear into her bag shaking off the pain.
Ellie arrives home, and begins backing her photos and footage to a neatly organized RAID atop her post production bay. She opens her phone one more time and sure enough the algorithm takes her to a live video of Karen at the studio.
Cutting back to the studio, Martha demands Reid to pull the plug on Karen’s purchased play time. Her ego bruised.
Ellie turns off her phone and puts it into a drawer, closing the doom and gloom connection. She cooks up a instant ramen and winds down with some candle lit yoga.
Back at the studio the photographer and Anna begin to pack up when Martha steps in demanding a rehearsal. Her inibreation brings a flush feeling so she turns on the air conditioning causing Anna to shiver and put on her hoodie. Martha demands the removal of her hoodie and to begin right away. Reid steps in “This was not on the schedule, it’s getting late let’s run this in the morning”
Martha’s eyes narrow. “We don’t use understudies, Anna. That bull shit playtime has completely thrown the energies of this room, and we need to reset the space with our practice. It does not need to be full out. We can mark it and sleep on the movement. Her voice drops, low and cutting. “Rehearse.” Reid interjects “She is not warm”
Martha : “Rehearse!”
Anna hesitates, then complies, wincing as she pushes her body into motion. The two begin to dance, their movements a paradox of love and domination. Martha’s power is magnetic, her every step commanding, while Anna’s fluidity and grace soften the harshness, creating a delicate balance of yin and yang.
For a moment, they are perfect together. The studio becomes a sanctuary, the storm outside fading into silence as mother and daughter create something transcendent.
But it doesn’t last.
Martha demands they run the piece again. And again. Each repetition grows sharper, more punishing, as Martha gulps more of her wine. Anna’s pain becomes visible—her breathing labored, her steps faltering—but she presses on, hiding her agony as best she can.
Finally, Reid steps in. His cane slams against the floor, breaking the rhythm. “Enough!.”
Martha turns, her eyes narrowing. Reid’s voice is calm but firm. “She’s not a machine”
For a moment, tension crackles between them. Then Martha snaps out of her insanity and slips back into motherhood for a brief moment. She leans down, brushing her lips against Anna’s forehead—a Stockholm syndrome gesture. “Tomorrow night,” she whispers. “Don’t disappoint us.”
She storms out, the nearly empty bottle of wine in hand.
Anna collapses to the floor, clutching her hip as sobs wrack her body. Reid moves to her side, his cane clattering to the ground as he kneels beside her. For a moment, he hesitates, unsure how to comfort her.
“I’ve been there,” he finally says, his voice tinged with an old pain. He flashes back to his own years as a dancer, to the moment his leg snapped under the weight of Martha’s demands. He shakes the memory away, focusing on Anna.
“She’s reckless,” he says, his tone resigned. “Her spending. Her ego. If we don’t land those scouts tomorrow night, we’re done.”
Anna’s breathing changes, sharp and shallow, as the words settle. Her chest rises and falls erratically, her eyes darting to the mirrored walls of the studio. The storm outside seems louder now, the rain pounding against the windows like a relentless drumbeat.
“I... I can’t breathe,” she whispers, clutching at her chest. Her hands tremble as her body folds in on itself. “It’s happening again.”
Reid moves closer draping his coat onto her like a blanket, his hand hovering just over her shoulder, unsure whether to touch her. “Anna,” he says softly, his voice low and grounding. “Look at me.”
But Anna’s focus is inward, spiraling. Her lungs feel like they’re clamping shut, a steel vice tightening at the back where her ribs meet her spine. The air won’t go in, won’t come out, no matter how desperately she gasps. Her vision blurs, the edges of the room darkening.
“Reid,” she chokes out, her voice breaking, “I can’t... I can’t—”
“You can,” he says firmly, lowering himself to her level. “You’re safe. It’s your body lying to you, Anna. It’s just panic. Breathe with me. In through the nose, slow.” He demonstrates, exaggerating the motion to guide her. “Now Ujjayi out” Anna breathes into her practice.
A quick cut shows Ellie in a similar breath but more calm and composed in her warm loft.
Back to the studio, Reid’s steadiness anchors her, and she begins to mirror his breathing, though tears streak her face as her body fights to obey.
“I’m so scared,” she whispers finally, her voice breaking. “I’m scared of her, Reid.”
Reid stiffens but doesn’t interrupt, his face unreadable.
“She’s not just... harsh,” Anna continues, her words tumbling out like a confession. “She whispers things—dark things—when she thinks no one can hear. In the middle of the night, I hear her walking through the house, speaking in tongues. It echoes, Reid. It feels like it’s inside the walls. Like the house breathes with her.”
Cut to Martha gliding into massive master bedroom. The room is dark, save for the flickering glow of a dozen black candles placed in apentagram symmetry around the space. Their flames dance in unison, casting jagged shadows across the walls. At the center of it all stands Martha, her silk robe clinging to her frame as if the fabric itself feared to move in the stillness.
Before her looms a massive, ornate mirror. Its gilded frame is intricately carved with grotesque figures: serpents winding around skeletal forms, clawed hands reaching upward, and faces frozen in expressions of agony and ecstasy. The glass is flawless, reflecting the room with an unnerving clarity that seems sharper than reality.
Martha steps closer, carrying a small, gold lancet. She holds it delicately, almost reverently, her breath steady as she presses the tip against the inside of her palm. With a quick, practiced motion, she punctures her skin. A plump single drop of blood beads, bright and vivid, before sliding down her finger.
She catches the blood on a fine-tipped paint brush, the sable bristles absorbing the crimson. With the precision of an artist, she lifts the brush to the mirror.
Her strokes are deliberate and fluid, each line forming intricate patterns on the glass. The symbols are ancient and unsettling: a sigil from the Ars Goetia, twisting and sharp, designed to summon and bind. Her voice joins her movements, murmuring in an ancient tongue—a blend of serpent syllables and melodic whispers that seem to resonate beyond the room.
As she works, her reflection stares back at her, but it’s subtly off. The eyes in the glass are sharper, darker, and colder, as if they belong to someone—or something—else.
Martha pauses, her gaze meeting her reflection. The chanting stops, leaving an eerie silence, save for the faint crackle of the candle flames. Her reflection tilts its head ever so slightly—an action she does not mirror.
Back in the studio, Reid swallows hard, his jaw tightening. Being that Reid blocks out the complicated relationship with his sister, he doesn’t look surprised while learning of this darker worship bleeding into his innocent niece, and that realization on his face, makes Anna’s tears continue to pool up in her eyes.
“She’s not just about control or discipline,” Anna says, her voice trembling. “It’s... something else. I don’t even know if she believes in it, or if she’s just playing with it, but it’s in everything. It’s in the symbols, the whispers, the way she moves. It’s everywhere, Reid. I’m scared it’s inside me too.”
Reid’s hand finally lands on her shoulder, a firm and reassuring weight. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice steady but intense. “You are not her. You don’t have to be what she wants you to be, no matter how loud she screams or how far she goes. You are Anna, and pure light burns inside of you”.
She shakes her head, tears still falling. “What if I can’t? What if I’m not enough for all of this?”
“You are,” Reid says firmly. “You’ve survived her this long. You’ve been dancing through hell for years, and you’re still here. That’s not because of her. That’s because of you. And after this show I am going to find a way to stop all of this” Anna looks him dead in the eye. “You don’t believe that, and I don’t blame you” Reid’s eyes glaze a bit as his pupils shift into an internal realization that he can no longer hide has no idea the facts of their destructive operation from his once innocent niece.
A long silence stretches between them before Anna takes one deep, final breath and stands up ready to move forward. They limp to the door poking fun at their dual injuries.
SCENE 02 - A
The camera pulls back as a drone lifts above the rain-soaked parking lot, transitioning into a sweeping montage of Martha and Reid’s black Escalade slicing through winding roads. Martha at the wheel, weaving through towering trees, the glint of wet pavement reflecting its powerful frame, close-ups of its wheels kicking up sprays of water and a nervous Reid in the passenger seat.
They arrive at the gates of their estate—a towering structure of wrought iron, crowned with baroque flourishes. The gates creak open with a mechanical groan, revealing the grounds: a place of contradictions. Tungsten bulbs cast warm halos over freshly painted walls, clashing with harsh, dramatic shadows that stretch like claws across the white stone pathways. The rain pounds relentlessly, pooling in the grooves of ancient cobblestones.
The estate itself looms like a fortress, its walls thick and impenetrable, whispering stories of inherited power. In the distance, an iconic outdoor theater comes into view: concentric white circular platforms stacked like a surreal wedding cake, their design exuding the exclusivity of a high-fashion runway. Marble pillars surround the stage, each adorned with intricate sculptures that seem almost alive under the storm's flickering light.
Baphomet, his torch of knowledge ablaze above his head, watches over the scene, flanked by the caduceus—a twisted harmony of healing and poison. At the center of the stage, “Solve et Coagula” is painted in bold strokes, a reminder of destruction and creation intertwined.
Beyond the theater, rows of dark durif grapes glisten in the moonlight, their sturdy vines defiant against the howling wind and pounding rain. The vineyard, ancient and regal, is a stark contrast to the modern decadence of the estate.
The Escalade halts before a private wing, and Martha steps out first, her heels striking the wet stone with the confidence of someone who owns the very ground she walks on. Reid follows, slower, leaning heavily on his cane as his leg brace squeaks faintly with the effort.
The estate’s private dance studio glows with the clinical brilliance of professional lighting as ANNA (Elle Fanning) comes into view standing in the center of a photo shoot, poised on a raised platform, her movements fluid yet deliberate as the photographer clicks away. Her long, flowing dress cascades like water, every fold and angle designed to captivate.
The room hums with quiet energy—assistants adjusting lights, a makeup artist dabbing powder on Anna’s cheek, the photographer issuing rapid-fire instructions.
“Chin up. Perfect. Hold it...look away - now back.”
Anna glides to the computer smiling over their collaboration until the door bursts open. Martha sweeps in like a storm, her coat sliding off her shoulders and into Reid’s waiting hands. She doesn’t pause to greet anyone She moves to a bar at the side of the studio, pouring herself a generous glass of Petite Sirah. The wine, bold and inky, swirls in the glass like a potion of power. She gulps it down, the rim of the glass catching the light to reveal a pentagram etched into its surface. Something shifts in Martha’s demeanor as she sets the glass down—a subtle descent into something darker, more menacing. She moves towards the photo shoot.
“Let me see them,” Martha demands, moving to the photographer’s DIT station.
The photographer hesitates but steps aside as Martha scrolls through the freshly captured images. Her finger moves with precision, slashing away the ones she dislikes. “No. No. Absolutely not. What were you thinking with this lighting? It’s way too warm - this piece is cold blooded and dramatic. - Fix it. ”
Reid, standing by the door, smiles warmly and moves toward Anna. He wraps her in a gentle hug, his presence a rare moment of comfort in the otherwise tense room.
“You’re glowing,” he whispers.
Anna chuckles and smiles faintly, but the strain in her eyes betrays her. “Thanks, Uncle Reid.”
Before Reid can say more, the double doors swing open again, and Karen and her parents walk in, their smiles wide but shallow. Their presence is like a sudden chill of arrogance.
Martha turns, her expression instantly sharp towards Reid “Why are they here?” she hisses to Reid, her voice low and venomous.
Reid sighs, maintaining his composure. “Part of their... contribution included Karen being featured in the promo material. It’s already been arranged.”
Martha’s wine glass slams onto the table, splashing a few dark drops onto the white marble. She steps closer, her voice razor-sharp. “Tell them to stay out of my sight.” Reid responds “Martha, this family is interested in being a major player with us.” Martha’s eyes snap into a business moment calming her posture and tone “Make them feel important, but do not compromise our image for some shitty understudy”
Reid nods smoothly, his showman’s smile never faltering. He approaches Karen’s parents with an exaggerated warmth, guiding them toward a quieter corner.
“Let’s do a separate set of solo shots for Karen,” he says with practiced charm. “That way, she’ll truly stand out. It’ll be spectacular. We’ll send them to you by tonight.”
The parents exchange glances, then nod, satisfied.
Karen steps onto the platform, as she sets up her own ring light—a cheap, plastic thing that casts harsh, uneven shadows.
“Uh, what are you doing?” the photographer asks, his voice tight.
Karen waves him off. “I need to post a reel hold on.”
She adjusts her phone, striking overly exaggerated poses in front of the camera. The fine art atmosphere of the shoot dissolves into cringe as Karen dances awkwardly to a trending audio clip. The ring light’s garish glow clashes with the studio’s refined setup, turning the moment into a mockery of the carefully curated scene.
Martha watches from a distance, her knuckles white as she grips her wine glass. Her lips press into a thin line, the rage simmering beneath her polished exterior. Karen’s parents smile and clap like they are at a youth soccer game.
Cut to Ellie shooting photos at a wedding. Her movements are calculated, almost feline, her camera an extension of her body. The wedding reception is alive with chaos—laughter, clinking glasses, the thump of bass-heavy music—but she navigates it effortlessly, her keen eyes spotting moments of intimacy and joy. She crouches low to frame a shot of the couple’s hands intertwined, then pivots smoothly to catch the grandmother wiping a tear from her eye. Her 70-200 lens swings across the dance floor, zooming in on the flower girl twirling like a tiny ballerina. Sweat beads on her temple as she adjusts her settings on the fly, the low light of the venue challenging but invigorating. She thrives in the speed, the precision, the artistry of capturing fleeting moments.
The scene shifts back to Karen, clumsily spinning in her dress, her phone propped at an awkward angle. The photographer looks on helplessly, his professional setup ignored. Karen’s parents smile like they are at a youth soccer game.
Ellie pauses to download her footage onto her laptop, sipping alkaline water as she scrolls through social media on her phone.
Karen’s TikTok pops up on her feed.
Ellie freezes, her brows furrowing. The poorly lit video, the exaggerated poses, the absurdity of the moment inside the world she will never be a part of—it all floods her with frustration. She gently closes her laptop shut, tossing her gear into her bag shaking off the pain.
Ellie arrives home, and begins backing her photos and footage to a neatly organized RAID atop her post production bay. She opens her phone one more time and sure enough the algorithm takes her to a live video of Karen at the studio.
Cutting back to the studio, Martha demands Reid to pull the plug on Karen’s purchased play time. Her ego bruised.
Ellie turns off her phone and puts it into a drawer, closing the doom and gloom connection. She cooks up a instant ramen and winds down with some candle lit yoga.
Back at the studio the photographer and Anna begin to pack up when Martha steps in demanding a rehearsal. Her inibreation brings a flush feeling so she turns on the air conditioning causing Anna to shiver and put on her hoodie. Martha demands the removal of her hoodie and to begin right away. Reid steps in “This was not on the schedule, it’s getting late let’s run this in the morning”
Martha’s eyes narrow. “We don’t use understudies, Anna. That bull shit playtime has completely thrown the energies of this room, and we need to reset the space with our practice. It does not need to be full out. We can mark it and sleep on the movement. Her voice drops, low and cutting. “Rehearse.” Reid interjects “She is not warm”
Martha : “Rehearse!”
Anna hesitates, then complies, wincing as she pushes her body into motion. The two begin to dance, their movements a paradox of love and domination. Martha’s power is magnetic, her every step commanding, while Anna’s fluidity and grace soften the harshness, creating a delicate balance of yin and yang.
For a moment, they are perfect together. The studio becomes a sanctuary, the storm outside fading into silence as mother and daughter create something transcendent.
But it doesn’t last.
Martha demands they run the piece again. And again. Each repetition grows sharper, more punishing, as Martha gulps more of her wine. Anna’s pain becomes visible—her breathing labored, her steps faltering—but she presses on, hiding her agony as best she can.
Finally, Reid steps in. His cane slams against the floor, breaking the rhythm. “Enough!.”
Martha turns, her eyes narrowing. Reid’s voice is calm but firm. “She’s not a machine”
For a moment, tension crackles between them. Then Martha snaps out of her insanity and slips back into motherhood for a brief moment. She leans down, brushing her lips against Anna’s forehead—a Stockholm syndrome gesture. “Tomorrow night,” she whispers. “Don’t disappoint us.”
She storms out, the nearly empty bottle of wine in hand.
Anna collapses to the floor, clutching her hip as sobs wrack her body. Reid moves to her side, his cane clattering to the ground as he kneels beside her. For a moment, he hesitates, unsure how to comfort her.
“I’ve been there,” he finally says, his voice tinged with an old pain. He flashes back to his own years as a dancer, to the moment his leg snapped under the weight of Martha’s demands. He shakes the memory away, focusing on Anna.
“She’s reckless,” he says, his tone resigned. “Her spending. Her ego. If we don’t land those scouts tomorrow night, we’re done.”
Anna’s breathing changes, sharp and shallow, as the words settle. Her chest rises and falls erratically, her eyes darting to the mirrored walls of the studio. The storm outside seems louder now, the rain pounding against the windows like a relentless drumbeat.
“I... I can’t breathe,” she whispers, clutching at her chest. Her hands tremble as her body folds in on itself. “It’s happening again.”
Reid moves closer draping his coat onto her like a blanket, his hand hovering just over her shoulder, unsure whether to touch her. “Anna,” he says softly, his voice low and grounding. “Look at me.”
But Anna’s focus is inward, spiraling. Her lungs feel like they’re clamping shut, a steel vice tightening at the back where her ribs meet her spine. The air won’t go in, won’t come out, no matter how desperately she gasps. Her vision blurs, the edges of the room darkening.
“Reid,” she chokes out, her voice breaking, “I can’t... I can’t—”
“You can,” he says firmly, lowering himself to her level. “You’re safe. It’s your body lying to you, Anna. It’s just panic. Breathe with me. In through the nose, slow.” He demonstrates, exaggerating the motion to guide her. “Now Ujjayi out” Anna breathes into her practice.
A quick cut shows Ellie in a similar breath but more calm and composed in her warm loft.
Back to the studio, Reid’s steadiness anchors her, and she begins to mirror his breathing, though tears streak her face as her body fights to obey.
“I’m so scared,” she whispers finally, her voice breaking. “I’m scared of her, Reid.”
Reid stiffens but doesn’t interrupt, his face unreadable.
“She’s not just... harsh,” Anna continues, her words tumbling out like a confession. “She whispers things—dark things—when she thinks no one can hear. In the middle of the night, I hear her walking through the house, speaking in tongues. It echoes, Reid. It feels like it’s inside the walls. Like the house breathes with her.”
Cut to Martha gliding into massive master bedroom. The room is dark, save for the flickering glow of a dozen black candles placed in apentagram symmetry around the space. Their flames dance in unison, casting jagged shadows across the walls. At the center of it all stands Martha, her silk robe clinging to her frame as if the fabric itself feared to move in the stillness.
Before her looms a massive, ornate mirror. Its gilded frame is intricately carved with grotesque figures: serpents winding around skeletal forms, clawed hands reaching upward, and faces frozen in expressions of agony and ecstasy. The glass is flawless, reflecting the room with an unnerving clarity that seems sharper than reality.
Martha steps closer, carrying a small, gold lancet. She holds it delicately, almost reverently, her breath steady as she presses the tip against the inside of her palm. With a quick, practiced motion, she punctures her skin. A single drop of blood beads, bright and vivid, before sliding down her hand.
She catches it with a fine-tipped paint brush, the sable bristles absorbing the crimson. With the precision of an artist, she lifts the brush to the mirror.
Her strokes are deliberate and fluid, each line forming intricate patterns on the glass. The symbols are ancient and unsettling: a sigil from the Ars Goetia, twisting and sharp, designed to summon and bind. Her voice joins her movements, murmuring in an ancient tongue—a blend of serpent syllables and melodic whispers that seem to resonate beyond the room.
As she works, her reflection stares back at her, but it’s subtly off. The eyes in the glass are sharper, darker, and colder, as if they belong to someone—or something—else.
Martha pauses, her gaze meeting her reflection. The chanting stops, leaving an eerie silence, save for the faint crackle of the candle flames. Her reflection tilts its head ever so slightly—an action she does not mirror.
Back in the studio, Reid swallows hard, his jaw tightening. Being that Reid blocks out the complicated relationship with his sister, he doesn’t look surprised while learning of this darker worship bleeding into his innocent niece, and that realization on his face, makes Anna’s tears continue to pool up in her eyes.
“She’s not just about control or discipline,” Anna says, her voice trembling. “It’s... something else. I don’t even know if she believes in it, or if she’s just playing with it, but it’s in everything. It’s in the symbols, the whispers, the way she moves. It’s everywhere, Reid. I’m scared it’s inside me too.”
Reid’s hand finally lands on her shoulder, a firm and reassuring weight. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice steady but intense. “You are not her. You don’t have to be what she wants you to be, no matter how loud she screams or how far she goes. You are Anna, and pure light burns inside of you”.
She shakes her head, tears still falling. “What if I can’t? What if I’m not enough for all of this?”
“You are,” Reid says firmly. “You’ve survived her this long. You’ve been dancing through hell for years, and you’re still here. That’s not because of her. That’s because of you. And after this show I am going to find a way to stop all of this” Anna looks him dead in the eye. “You don’t believe that, and I don’t blame you” Reid’s eyes glaze a bit as his pupils shift into an internal realization that he can no longer hide has no idea the facts of their destructive operation from his once innocent niece.
A long silence stretches between them before Anna takes one deep, final breath and stands up ready to move forward. They limp to the door poking fun at their dual injuries.
SCENE 02
The camera pulls back as a drone lifts above the rain-soaked parking lot, transitioning into a sweeping montage of Martha and Reid’s black Escalade slicing through winding roads. Martha at the wheel, weaving through towering trees, the glint of wet pavement reflecting its powerful frame, close-ups of its wheels kicking up sprays of water and a nervous Reid in the passenger seat.
They arrive at the gates of their estate—a towering structure of wrought iron, crowned with baroque flourishes. The gates creak open with a mechanical groan, revealing the grounds: a place of contradictions. Tungsten bulbs cast warm halos over freshly painted walls, clashing with harsh, dramatic shadows that stretch like claws across the white stone pathways. The rain pounds relentlessly, pooling in the grooves of ancient cobblestones.
The estate itself looms like a fortress, its walls thick and impenetrable, whispering stories of inherited power. In the distance, an iconic outdoor theater comes into view: concentric white circular platforms stacked like a surreal wedding cake, their design exuding the exclusivity of a high-fashion runway. Marble pillars surround the stage, each adorned with intricate sculptures that seem almost alive under the storm's flickering light.
Baphomet, his torch of knowledge ablaze above his head, watches over the scene, flanked by the caduceus—a twisted harmony of healing and poison. At the center of the stage, “Solve et Coagula” is painted in bold strokes, a reminder of destruction and creation intertwined.
Beyond the theater, rows of dark durif grapes glisten in the moonlight, their sturdy vines defiant against the howling wind and pounding rain. The vineyard, ancient and regal, is a stark contrast to the modern decadence of the estate.
The Escalade halts before a private wing, and Martha steps out first, her heels striking the wet stone with the confidence of someone who owns the very ground she walks on. Reid follows, slower, leaning heavily on his cane as his leg brace squeaks faintly with the effort.
Inside, the private studio glows softly, the warmth of its lighting masking the tension in the air. Anna (Elle Fanning), Martha’s daughter, stretches by the barre, her movements precise but tentative, as though testing the boundaries of an njury. Her face is taut with determination, her youthful beauty shadowed by exhaustion.
Martha strides in, her coat slipping from her shoulders and falling into Reid’s waiting hands. Without looking at Anna, she commands, “Update me.”
Anna glances at her mother, sweat glistening on her forehead. “It’s fine,” she says, her voice tight. “I’m fine.”
Martha’s eyes narrow. “Fine isn’t enough. We don’t use understudies, Anna.”
She moves to a bar at the side of the studio, pouring herself a generous glass of Petite Sirah. The wine, bold and inky, swirls in the glass like a potion of power. She gulps it down, the rim of the glass catching the light to reveal a pentagram etched into its surface. Something shifts in Martha’s demeanor as she sets the glass down—a subtle descent into something darker, more menacing.
Her voice drops, low and cutting. “Rehearse.”
Anna hesitates, then complies, wincing as she pushes her body into motion. The two begin to dance, their movements a paradox of love and domination. Martha’s power is magnetic, her every step commanding, while Anna’s fluidity and grace soften the harshness, creating a delicate balance of yin and yang.
For a moment, they are perfect together. The studio becomes a sanctuary, the storm outside fading into silence as mother and daughter create something transcendent.
But it doesn’t last.
Martha demands they run the piece again. And again. Each repetition grows sharper, more punishing, as Martha gulps more of her wine. Anna’s pain becomes visible—her breathing labored, her steps faltering—but she presses on, hiding her agony as best she can.
Finally, Reid steps in. His cane slams against the floor, breaking the rhythm. “Enough.”
Martha turns, her eyes narrowing. Reid’s voice is calm but firm. “She’s not a machine, Martha.”
For a moment, tension crackles between them. Then Martha snaps out of her insanity and slips back into motherhood for a brief moment. She leans down, brushing her lips against Anna’s forehead—a Stockholm syndrome gesture. “Tomorrow night,” she whispers. “Don’t disappoint us.”
She storms out, the nearly empty bottle of wine in hand.
Anna collapses to the floor, clutching her hip as sobs wrack her body. Reid moves to her side, his cane clattering to the ground as he kneels beside her. For a moment, he hesitates, unsure how to comfort her.
“I’ve been there,” he finally says, his voice tinged with an old pain. He flashes back to his own years as a dancer, to the moment his leg snapped under the weight of Martha’s demands. He shakes the memory away, focusing on Anna.
“She’s reckless,” he says, his tone resigned. “Her spending. Her ego. If we don’t land those scouts tomorrow night, we’re done.”
Anna’s breathing changes, sharp and shallow, as the words settle. Her chest rises and falls erratically, her eyes darting to the mirrored walls of the studio. The storm outside seems louder now, the rain pounding against the windows like a relentless drumbeat.
“I... I can’t breathe,” she whispers, clutching at her chest. Her hands tremble as her body folds in on itself. “It’s happening again.”
Reid moves closer draping her coat onto her like a blanet, his hand hovering just over her shoulder, unsure whether to touch her. “Anna,” he says softly, his voice low and grounding. “Look at me.”
But Anna’s focus is inward, spiraling. Her lungs feel like they’re clamping shut, a steel vice tightening at the back where her ribs meet her spine. The air won’t go in, won’t come out, no matter how desperately she gasps. Her vision blurs, the edges of the room darkening.
“Reid,” she chokes out, her voice breaking, “I can’t... I can’t—”
“You can,” he says firmly, lowering himself to her level. “You’re safe. It’s your body lying to you, Anna. It’s just panic. Breathe with me. In through the nose, slow.” He demonstrates, exaggerating the motion to guide her. “Hold it. Now out.”
His calm steadiness anchors her, and she begins to mirror his breathing, though tears streak her face as her body fights to obey.
“I’m so scared,” she whispers finally, her voice breaking. “I’m scared of her, Reid.”
Reid stiffens but doesn’t interrupt, his face unreadable.
“She’s not just... harsh,” Anna continues, her words tumbling out like a confession. “She whispers things—dark things—when she thinks no one can hear. In the middle of the night, I hear her walking through the house, speaking in tongues. It echoes, Reid. It feels like it’s inside the walls. Like the house breathes with her.”
Cut to Martha gliding into massive master bedroom. The room is dark, save for the flickering glow of a dozen black candles placed in precise symmetry around the space. Their flames dance in unison, casting jagged shadows across the walls. At the center of it all stands Martha, her silk robe clinging to her frame as if the fabric itself feared to move in the stillness.
Before her looms a massive, ornate mirror. Its gilded frame is intricately carved with grotesque figures: serpents winding around skeletal forms, clawed hands reaching upward, and faces frozen in expressions of agony and ecstasy. The glass is flawless, reflecting the room with an unnerving clarity that seems sharper than reality.
Martha steps closer, carrying a small, silver lancet. She holds it delicately, almost reverently, her breath steady as she presses the tip against the inside of her palm. With a quick, practiced motion, she punctures her skin. A single drop of blood beads, bright and vivid, before sliding down her hand.
She catches it with a fine-tipped paint brush, the sable bristles absorbing the crimson. With the precision of an artist, she lifts the brush to the mirror.
Her strokes are deliberate and fluid, each line forming intricate patterns on the glass. The symbols are ancient and unsettling: a sigil from the Ars Goetia, twisting and sharp, designed to summon and bind. Her voice joins her movements, murmuring in an ancient tongue—a blend of serpent syllables and melodic whispers that seem to resonate beyond the room.
The blood on the mirror glistens unnaturally, refusing to drip or dry. As she works, her reflection stares back at her, but it’s subtly off. The eyes in the glass are sharper, colder, as if they belong to someone—or something—else.
Martha pauses, her gaze meeting her reflection. The chanting stops, leaving an eerie silence, save for the faint crackle of the candle flames. Her reflection tilts its head ever so slightly—an action she does not mirror.
Back in the studio, Reid swallows hard, his jaw tightening. He doesn’t look surprised, and that realization makes Anna’s tears come harder.
“She’s not just about control or discipline,” Anna says, her voice trembling. “It’s... something else. I don’t even know if she believes in it, or if she’s just playing with it, but it’s in everything. It’s in the symbols, the whispers, the way she moves. It’s everywhere, Reid. I’m scared it’s inside me.”
Reid’s hand finally lands on her shoulder, a firm and reassuring weight. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice steady but intense. “You are not her. You don’t have to be what she wants you to be, no matter how loud she screams or how far she goes. You are Anna, and pure light burns inside of you”.
She shakes her head, tears still falling. “What if I can’t? What if I’m not enough for all of this?”
“You are,” Reid says firmly. “You’ve survived her this long. You’ve been dancing through hell for years, and you’re still here. That’s not because of her. That’s because of you. And after this show I am going to find a way to stop all of this” Anna looks him dead in the eye. “You don’t believe that, and I don’t blame you” Reid’s eyes glaze a bit as his pupils shift into an internal realization that he has no idea how to shut down their destructive operation.
A long silence stretches between them before Anna takes one deep, final breath and stands up ready to move forward. They limp to the door poking fun at their dual injuries.
SCENE 03
Ellie grips the steering wheel of her car, the interior cluttered with pelican cases and an assortment of photography equipment. Her camera bag sits shotgun, its zipper half-open, revealing a jumble of lenses and gear. The faint hum of the car’s engine is drowned out by the patter of rain against the windshield.
She pulls up to a red light, her eyes wandering to the corner where a massive poster looms on a lamppost. The glossy image hits her like a slap.
Martha, regal and commanding, stands at the center, her hand resting lightly on Anna’s shoulder. Anna’s face is taut with focus, her frame exuding grace even in stillness. And then there’s Karen, posed off to the side, her smile smug, her position almost overshadowing Anna’s. The poster's bold text reads:
“One Night Only: A Performance of Transcendence.”
Ellie’s stomach knots as her fingers drum on the steering wheel. Her jaw tightens, and she rolls her eyes with a sharp exhale.
The light turns green. She presses the gas harder than she needs to, the tires splashing through puddles as the scene cuts to Ellie rolling her gear into a wedding.
Ellie moves like a predator behind the lens, her camera an extension of her body. The wedding reception is alive with chaos—laughter, clinking glasses, the thump of bass-heavy music—but she navigates it effortlessly, her keen eyes spotting moments of intimacy and joy.
Her movements are calculated, feline. She crouches low to frame a shot of the couple’s hands intertwined, then pivots smoothly to catch the grandmother wiping a tear from her eye. Her 70-200 lens swings across the dance floor, zooming in on the flower girl twirling like a tiny ballerina.
“Ellie, over here!” someone calls, and she swivels on her heels, capturing a group shot of guests mid-laughter. The flash fires, the frame freezes, and she’s already moving to the next moment.
Sweat beads on her temple as she adjusts her settings on the fly, the low light of the venue challenging but invigorating. She thrives in the speed, the precision, the artistry of capturing fleeting moments.
Ellie’s apartment is dim, lit only by the cold glow of her computer screen. Plates and coffee cups clutter her desk, evidence of hours spent glued to her chair. Her fingers fly across the keyboard as she adjusts color tones, sharpens images, and pieces together video clips.
The screen freezes on a still image: the bride and groom holding hands, their fingers interlocked, a perfect moment of love and connection. Ellie stares at it, her eyes softening, her breathing slowing.
The sound fades, replaced by the faint echo of waves crashing.
Cut to: Ellie’s hand, reaching out to intertwine with another’s. The shot is warm, bathed in golden light. The fingers are unfamiliar, the identity of the other person hidden, but the tenderness is palpable.
Ellie’s chest rises and falls as she exhales shakily, snapping out of the memory. Her gaze shifts to the corner of the room, where a small, polished urn sits on a shelf. The sight of it makes her throat tighten, her fingers pausing mid-air above the keyboard.
Her jaw sets, and she blinks hard, forcing herself back to the task at hand. She clicks “Render,” and the computer hums softly as the video processes.
Ellie leans back in her chair, rubbing her eyes before glancing out the window.
Another poster catches her attention. This one is plastered onto a billboard, towering above the road. The same image—Martha, Anna, and Karen—smirks down at her. The bold text taunts her in silence.
Her eyes narrow, her breath quickening. A calculation flickers across her face as she spins her chair back to her desk, grabs her camera bag, and slings it over her shoulder. Her 70-200 lens clunks against the side of the bag, a comforting weight.
The grand venue glows in the night, its facade adorned with intricate carvings and golden lights. Ellie pulls into a side street, parking hastily as she surveys the scene. The buzz of patrons entering the building fills the air, their elegant attire contrasting sharply with Ellie’s jeans and worn boots.
She approaches the front entrance, where two towering security guards stand like statues.
“Ticket?” one of them asks, his voice flat.
“I’m with press,” Ellie says, holding up her camera as if it’s a shield.
“No press without clearance.” The guard’s tone is final, his eyes already moving past her.
Ellie steps back, her pulse pounding. She scans the perimeter, her photographer’s eye searching for angles. A side gate catches her attention, partially obscured by hedges.
She slips around the edge of the property, her movements quick and silent. The damp grass muffles her footsteps as she finds a small, hidden slit in the chain-link fence. Just as she lifts her camera to her eye, a heavy hand clamps down on her shoulder.
“Off the property,” a guard growls, yanking her backward.
Ellie struggles, her gear clanging against her side as she’s hauled onto the wet pavement. The fall knocks the wind out of her, the world spinning as she stares up at the stormy sky.
“You don’t understand!” she gasps. “I need to see this!”
The guard doesn’t care. He gestures toward the gate. “Out. Now.”
In defeat, Ellie scrambles to her feet, cradling her camera protectively. She stumbles back toward the fence, finding a narrow slit where she crouches, muddy and breathless.
Through the chain-link fence, Ellie focuses her lens on the stage. The orchestra swells, the haunting strings filling the air. Martha and Anna command the spotlight, their movements precise and hypnotic. Martha exudes power, her presence almost otherworldly, while Anna moves with a vulnerability that tugs at Ellie’s chest.
But then Ellie notices it—a subtle stumble in Anna’s step.
She adjusts her focus, her heart racing. Anna’s movements falter again, her body stiffening as she pushes through the routine.
Suddenly, a scream cuts through the music.
Ellie’s view is blocked as audience members rise in a wave of chaos. More screams follow, sharp and piercing, as the once-elegant theater descends into pandemonium.
Red and blue lights flash in the distance, their colors bouncing off the venue’s facade as ambulances, cop cars, and fire trucks swarm the scene.
Ellie lowers her camera, her hands trembling. The air feels heavy, suffocating, as she tries to piece together what she just witnessed.
The music fades, replaced by the shrill wails of sirens. The frame lingers on Ellie’s face—confused, horrified, and helpless—before slowly fading to black.
SYNOPSIS:
In a world where ambition knows no limits, Martha ( Michelle Pfeiffer) thrives in the upper echelons of the modern dance society, indulging in a life of excess and influence. Immersed in her inherited family estate, she has built not only a prestigious dance program with a high end studio, including an iconic outdoor theater with exclusive access to the wealthy and powerful. Her renown technical ability as a dancer combined with her opulent reputation is more than just a symbol of wealth—it is an extension of her relentless desire for control. Beneath the glamour and the towering walls of her estate, Martha has a quiet reverence for forces most people would rather pretend didn’t exist. She seeks answers in satanic spaces long forgotten, where whispers of power echo through personal rituals that secretly scared her brother, Reid (leonardo Dicaprio),
Reid leads a different life, once a prolific dancer himself, Reid suffered a career ending injury that confines him to a cane. Daily use of opioids for the pain place him in the clutching torment of addiction. He clings to multiple vices including spliffs and alcohol to endure his high pressure role as the artistic director of the dance company. He is a wreck behind closed doors but you would never guess once he’s on stage. He is the likeable showman of the company while Martha is the fangs that seduce and keep people in line. Reid and Martha have an upkeep of fame and operating costs to maintain and nothing will stand in their way… not even family.
Martha’s daughter and Reid’s niece Anna (Elle Fanning), is the most celebrated dancer of the past two decades. She is an effortless beauty on and off the stage with a pure and angelic nature. You would never guess she is related to two ego driven sociopaths. In a unique realm of performing, Martha and Anna maintain their name to fame with powerful mother daughter duets. Martha reverts to her pure self on stage with Anna and it’s the only time their relationship shows true love.
The film begins outside of inherited opulence with Ellie (Dove Cameron) by the ocean holding a small ashes urn necklace. With tears in her eyes, she debates pouring it out - not today. Cut to Ellie walking towards a common dance studio in the rain. She is a vision of contradictions. Her fierce, penetrating eyes hold a quiet fragility beneath their intensity, captivating and unsettling in equal measure. The way Ellie’s unkempt hair frames her face gives her an air of elegance, but there’s something deeper—a resilience softened by a hint of vulnerability. She steps into the studio, rain tracing down her coat as she peels off layer by soaked layer, revealing a poised elegance beneath the storm’s chill. She reveals a vintage iPod mini and wraps the classic headphones around the device before stepping in to join the group. Around her, an unusual tension fills the lobby—students cluster in tight groups, exchanging glances and hushed murmurs, a nervous energy vibrating through the room. She pauses, her gaze sweeping over their anxious faces, confusion tightening her brow, until Martha & Reid walk down the hall into the studio. The dancers are given audition numbers as security guards watch the doors. Ellie is the clear choice by Martha & Reid but in a switch of power, the parents of the wealthiest dancer slip Martha a check cutting Ellie out of the equation. It’s time like this when se enjoys the occasional black American Spirit to take the edge off.
On the night of a sold out show at the estate’s theater, Anna hurts her hip in a final rehearsal. Reid suggests the understudy to step in but that is not an option for the inebriated mother. Furious Martha pressures Reid to give Anna an opioid to pull through. Despite Reid’s disheveled operating, he is highly resistant to hand a drug to his niece who he loves.
The camera drifts to Ellie making every move she can think of to sneak into the show. Security tosses her onto her back and in her defeat she settles for a slit in the fence as her viewing. The orchestra roars as Anna & Martha buzz about the stage. Ellie notices a stumble in Anna but her view is cut off as audience members stand and scream in horror. Ambulences, cop cars, and fire trucks enter the chaotic scene as the scene slowly fade to black.
Time has past as Reid stands in the property cemetary alone mourning the death of what we assume to be Anna. A wide shot reveals the entire property has fallen into an unkempt almost abandoned look. Reids facial hair has grown, his eyes sunken in, and his spirit haunted. With a bottle of Jameson in his hand, he drifts into the dance studio where he is suddenly slammed into the glass by some super natural possession. Possessed by a force unkown, he grabs a slice of mirror and slices his hand open. Against his will he begins painting mysterious symbols with blood on the mirror - Cut to black.
We’re back with Ellie shooting a wedding. She downloads her footage to a hard drive and heads to her car. Her route leads her past the estate at sunset. She senses something and takes a moment at a fork in the road. She decides to head back towards the estate. As she slows down her view catches a flash light and a figure fastening what appears to be a poster to the fence. Ellie flips her car around and discovers a “Help Wanted” sign. She takes the chance to enter her dream world buzzing the gate bell.
An almost demonic disheveled Reid with bandages on both hands emerges from a wall of fog. Ellie awkwardly says hi breaking the ice. Making zero eye contact Reid hands her a 11”x12'“ envelope and tells her he needs this translated. A bundle of cash is in the envelope as he explains half is paid now and the other half when she returns. Reid turns, rips the help wanted sign down, and drifts back into the fog like a phantom. Ellie looks at strange symbols on a piece of paper and drives off.
We’re at Ellie’s apartment as she finishes a cut of her wedding video - she exports and uploads to dropbox. She opens the envelope from Reid and scans a copy of the symbols onto her mac. She uploads them to a language thread on Reddit asking if anyone knows what they are. After some time she learns the symbols are some kind of dance notation; a niche language used to record dances on paper similar to sheet music. Ellie scowers the internet and finds a professor one state over who teaches the practice. She stocks up on cold brew, apples, and beef jerky before racing towards the school.
Ellie tracks down the professor waiting until class is over before she drifts into the studio introducing herself. Back at Ellie’s apartment she has joined the notation class via zoom and studies the practice. Using her new found knowledge, she moves her furniture creating space to dance. As she begins moving to the notation, whispers and strange panic comes over her. She feels flushed pausing afraid to continue.
Back at the estate Ellie informs Reid that the notation on the paper is a specific dance. Reid asks if she could come inside to perform the movement but she hesitates. Reid offers her a stack of cash but her gut refuses. Ellie rejects the offer which leaves Reid stunned.
As Ellie parks her car and heads to her door, the camera drifts to someone spying on her from across the street. Ellie sets her stuff down and her phone rings. After ignoring the first two calls she decides to answer - it’s Reid. He explains he needs her help jump starting the dance company again and invites her to lead a notation workshop with a group of dancers. He offers her the role as the lead dancer and assistant artistic director. He explains he is ready to bring it back to life after some time off. Against her gut Ellie accepts the offer. Reid tells her to source seven dancers and bring them to the estate in one week.
Ellie continues to take her course online absorbing what she can to lead a workshop she feels unqualified to do. At the end of the week Ellie hops on zoom extending the invitation to come to the estate. The group is stunned to hear the estate is coming back and the sophisticated lure remains pulling seven volunteers.
The group of dancers arrive to a parking lot and enter a luxurious limo. Being that they are all young the students begin indulging in the free food and champagne. Ellie joins in however her underlying memory of the estate looms inside her mind. The limo arrives to the estate which has been transformed back to it’s glory save the outdoor amphitheater. For whatever reason the famous arena is overgrown and abandoned. Ellie is the only one who notices this detail as the students begin to showcase their immature and unlikable nature.
Each dancer is checked in and given a room number. They are told their bags will be brought to the room. In a spark of confrontation each dancer is required to hand over their phone and any device capable of connecting to the internet stating the experience is immersive. Being that this is Ellie’s first time to the estate since it was run down, she puts on a show and supports the decision by handing over her bag to be searched. Her phone and laptop are taken but the guard leaves her vintage iPod. Reid watches from a dark room of monitors and likes what he sees in Ellie - a fellow show woman. Each student has their bags checked and devices taken.
Cut to a groundskeeper discarding all of the devices into a metal grinder. There is no escape from this estate.
Reid descends the grand staircase clean shaven and restored. He gives a speech on the significance of this moment - these dancers are relaunching his company and he is honored to have them. The students go right into complaining about their apprehended devices. He counters with empathy explaining this experience will be a nod to the 90s giving these people the pre-internet life he got to experience. He explains a gift is waiting in each of their rooms.
One by one we follow the dancers into their room as they discover vintage 90s / 2000s items tied to their hobbies and passions. The filmmaker gets an old school MiniDV camera, the painter gets a canvas and supplies, the writer gets a classic typewriter etc. Ellie finds clothes and diamonds she could never afford and Reid watches her reaction from his room of cameras. The other dancers are having fun in their rooms sharing the vintage objects with one another.
As Ellie holds class outside in the gardens perfecting the original notation found on the mirror. The students question whey they can’t rehearse in the studio and Being that Ellie just got here herself she has to bull-shit them and the scene enables the seven students to begin their unhinged behavior. Ellie slowly gets into her head noticing darker forces as the movement is implemented by seven people. Despite these young adult’s dis-likable nature, they each chime in on how they are interpreting the notated piece and we gain respect for them.
It’s dinner time and the students are living large at a great feast. As the booze and weed flows The seven quickly turn on one another as their vices rage in full swing. Reid observes the chaos from across the table but his eyes land on Ellie as she abstains from over indulging in substances. Reid signals her to excuse herself and follow him. He walks her into the studio locking the door behind them. He flips on the lights revealing the notation on the mirror. What was once written in blood has been laser printed onto the mirror with perfection. Reid asks if the students are ready to audition and she tells him hell no. He gives her the key to the studio and tells her to bring them in tomorrow for some inspiration. He demands her to step up to lead.
The following day the students tour the studio which is a major morale boost. Ellie gives a speech that private auditions will begin in 3 days. The students complain at that turnaround time so without approval from Reid Ellie looks into one of the security cameras and says if they all shut up and work they will each receive 5K on the third day. The students freak out with excitement as Ellie looks back into the camera and Reid from his room of monitors is turned on at her unscripted control of his money. A montage shows the next three are fun and exciting for the students but anxious for Ellie.
It’s day one of rehearsals and Greed is the first one at breakfast ready to get his 5K. Ellie, Greed, and Reid enter the studio and greed walks up to a tablet in the wall with a dense music library. It’s not spotify or apple music, its a custom operating system that continues to demonstrate Reid’s power. Greed picks his music and it couldn’t be further from what Martha, Reid, and Anna are aligned with. Despite the cringe, Greed is a fabulous dancer going all out to complete the audition. He has a slight pause and at the drop of the music he deviates from the notation. Greed is suddenly possessed and thrown into the glass head first dying on impact. His head explodes like a watermelon covering Ellie and Reid in blood. Ellie begins to scream so Reid pounces to cover her mouth and turns up the awful music. He tells her he is going to let go if she does not scream or run. She agrees but then quickly runs to the door which is locked. As the remains of greed’s head spill into the floor, Reid shows Ellie the scars on his hands. He explains that the curse on the estate and the company is his fault and he begs her to help him. He promises he won’t make her dance in the studio. His parting conversation is that he wants to get it over with and he is depending on her to be the voice of power - not him. They need the dancers to stick to the script.
Ellie asks Reid what music was playing the night Anna died and we learn his PTSD of that day has made that night a black hole. Ellie boldy states he is an idiot for letting Greed select music that is in no way relation to the dance company. Reid loves being disrespected by Ellie and continues to enforce that this is the reason she needs to take over.
One of Reid’s henchmen dispose of Greed’s body as we cut to dinner. The students question greed’s absence and it’s Ellie who explains he did not make the cut and was sent home. She explained that he veered too far from the material and was resistant towards the narrative of the piece. Wrath asks Ellie to define the narrative of the piece triggering pride to answer in a cocky fashion. Ellie excuses herself as the students vices kick in as bicker over the narrative of the piece.
One by one the dancers attempt the performance but are brutally killed and Ellie has to watch in person while Reid hides in his lair of cameras. With each audition we see and learn more about the demon. One night in the middle of dinner with the final student, Ellie drinks more wine than usual to numb the pain of her trauma. Reid notices and invites her to his study. The study is a combination off an old library mixed with stranger modern furniture and art. As she glances around the room she spots a small safe and takes note. He asks if there is anything he can get for her and Ellie tells him she needs the truth. She demands to know what happened to Anna and if he knows who is haunting them. Reid goes on to explain that Anna’s brain aneurysm was so devastating it forced Martha to run away and he could not find her. And now for whatever reason a mysterious demon is haunting the property. Reid has clearly rehearsed this but doesn’t buy it himself. He stands towards the window explaining he has seen Anna though; on the property in the forest. Ellie feels inspired for the first time since she can remember. She demands the location so she can go explore.
Reid opens a small cabinet of drugs, removes a pipe, vile of powder, dried rose petals, and some matches. He explains that Anna doesn’t want to come into this dimension but they have access to hers through the drug on the table. Ellie is nervous so Reid drops a quote. Terence McKenna said: “The DMT experience is beyond language, beyond three-dimensional space. It’s the only experience where you feel you are not in your body, not in your mind, but somewhere truly other.” He explains if Ellie is willing to ride a wrinkle in time beyond veil she will find Anna somewhere on the property. Reid explains that Anna bolts from him every time they have a drug induced encounter. Reid admits that he is full of darkness and Anna’s pure soul has every right to run from him. He suggests to smoke the DMT at sunrise putting more pressure on Ellie to solve his problem. Reid tells her he will take the studio shift with the final student and should the student die they will simply source more students. Ellie is horrified at Reid’s subtle excitement for this regularly botched exorcism.
It’s morning and Ellie hits the DMT as the sun rises causing a rift in her reality. when she looks over her shoulder at the estate she sees the house shrouded in darkness. She takes a deep breath and looks into the forest as the trees slowly bend and contort forming a tunnel with an illuminated pathway and arrows directing her to move forward. As intimidating as it looks, Ellie feels a much needed sense of love and light. After walking through the psychedelic tunnel, Anna steps out from the other side and speaks to Ellie but she cannot understand her. Her voice is that of another world so the two of them focus on one another until Ellie can understand. Anna explains she is the final hope to free her mother from the clutches of darkness. Anna’s spirit jumps into Ellie and gives her a vision.
Ellie flies back towards the house in an out of body POV. She is guided through the labrynth of halls until she reaches Reid’s lair full of monitors, a computer, and strange abstract art. Her POV is shot up and out of the room bending time until she arrives back outside of the gate watching Anna’s last show. Ellie sees the version of herself looking through the fence. She warps through the fence landing on Anna & Martha moving in extreme slow motion. Ellie locks on to Martha’s face and with a panic inducing jump scare, Martha contorts into the demon screaming and chasing Ellie. She uses what little control she has to fly her psychedelic POV back towards her body in present time. Anna sees Martha in demon form and runs back into her realm right as the demon slams into the wall of energy keeping Anna safe in another dimension. The Demon/Martha scream and claw desperate to get to Anna.
The demon circles Ellie for a moment as time slows down. Martha fights her way to the front of the demon’s spirit. Ellie witnesses Martha is trapped in the shroud of the demon. In a language unknown to us, Martha screams and begs for help. The demon realizes it has revealed it’s control of Martha and slithers away. Ellie snaps out of her vision clutching the earth beneath her searching for grounding reality.
Ellie stumbles back towards the estate as the DMT fades on and off. Reid grabs her with another jump scare. His eyes are desperate as he asks her what she saw. The DMT reveals Reid’s demonic energy as he too is deep within darkness. Ellie takes a moment to reflect on the location of Reid’s lair. She gathers herself then cackles and fakes the experience as if it was just a crazy colorful trip. Reid knows she is lying and wants the answers. Ellie pauses and asks Reid to have dinner together tonight. Taken back Reid jumps at the occasion.
Ellie heads back inside to her room. At this point all of the dancers are dead and she needs to escape. She paces her room back and forth thinking of her options One - The vision of Reid’s secret room with evidence. Two - The memory of Martha trying to get through her demon capture. Three - an escape. She looks over to find The nice clothes Reid gave her and as an idea.
She slips into a silk dress with a slit up one leg, does her makeup, and wears the provided diamonds. Reid watches this on a monitor and gets turned on. He fixes a drink to calm his nerves and he too gets dressed in formal attire.
Ellie descends the staircase dressed like a queen as Reid waits below stunned like a deer in the headlights. They sit across from one another on opposite ends of the giant table. Reid’s ego loves this mid-evil scene while Ellie starts laughing at it. Ellie picks a fight with Reid calling him out living like some sad renaissance king alone in his haunted castle. Reid angrily drinks to cope with his insecurity. Ellie gulps down wine but secretly spits it into an empty bottle. She is creating the illusion of getting wasted together. She dominates the conversation insulting Reid with brutal digs mixed with sensuality -he loves being dominated. Ellie leans in to kiss him and they start making out. She pulls him onto the table and they kick all the food and china off the table as they make out. Ellie looks for some silverware below, mounts Reid and slams him onto some forks and knives drawing blood. Reid is taken back as he cries out. Ellie remains in control as if this is how she likes it. She notices Reid is in a fair amount of pain so she escorts him to his bedroom.
In the bedroom she throws Reid onto his bed and he waits holding his wound trying to keep it together. Ellie playfully looks at Reid’s highly organized stash of drugs and finds a xanax. She pretends the pill is molly and gets the pill down his throat while pretending she too took it. They make love until Reid passes out - Ellie slaps him a few times to make sure he is out cold.
Ellie follows her vision from Anna and jumps onto Reids computer. A password is required so she drags Reid off of the bed and heaves him up high enough to use his thumbprint before dropping him onto the wood floor. Ellie navigates to his source drive, locates the surveillance footage, and calculates the folder file size. While calculation loads she She digs for any kind of external hard drive but as she expected hardware is locked up tight here. Ellie has a quick flash where she sees Anna and then her iPod. Ellie runs to her room digging for the iPod then sprints back upstairs.
She returns to find the file sizes exceeds her iPod so she uses Quicktime to transcode and shrink them down. In addition to the .mov files, she drags his root folder onto the drive which once again requires her to heave him up and use his thumbprint.The files finish copying onto the iPod, She opens up his Mac Photo Booth and hits record on a video. We do not see what she says yet.
Ellie digs through Reids closet finding items to help brave the storm outside. She changes into Jeans, grabs her belongings, and runs outside into the storm. We see her escape through Reid’s security cameras.
It’s morning and Reid wakes up looking like hell with no recollection of the night. He plays the video Ellie left. She informs him that all of his files including footage of people dying under his capture have been confiscated, duplicated to several drives, and if he comes for her or if anything happens to her a drive will be shipped to the FBI. Reid throws an empty bottle into the computer screen screams with rage as he grabs his wounds.
Cut to Ellie digging through the footage. She imports the video files sorting them by date and drags them into a timeline. They go all the way back to the night Anna died. The camera pushes into the security footage as we re-live the horrors that unfolded.
Ellie learns that Reid and Martha gave Anna the oxy and killed her. We see the audience running in horror as Reid and Martha place his bottle of oxy in her hand before planting in her bag. Ellie finds a police report that Anna overdosed on the pills. She finds footage of Reid feeding a young girl to a police chief then threatening him with the footage to bury the case.
Next we see footage of Martha carving strange symbols into the wall. Reid tries to pull her away but she screams with the agony only a mother can release. Ellie scrubs through the footage taking screen shots of the symbols in the wall. She brings them into Photoshop and uses AI to upscale them. Ellie holds the original paper of notation up to the monitor learning that the symbols were only 50% of the dance. We cannot see all of the second half, but we know it’s a key to this puzzle. Ellie scrubs the footage and lands on Martha hanging herself. She jumps away from the computer taking a pause. She closes her eyes and hits the down arrow to jump away from that section of the sequence. When she opens her eyes she finds the hallway has been painted over and a piece of furniture put in front of the wall.
She paces her room contemplating what do do next. Visions of Martha trapped inside the demon flash in her mind. She can set Martha free from hell and turn Reid in but it’s all too much. Why is this her burden to carry?
There is a loud knock at the door lending a jump scare. Ellie cracks the door open to find two women - Mormon missionaries. They begin to introduce themselves and an annoyed Ellie cuts them off stating she knows what they do. The young ladies ask if there is anything they can do for her? She takes a pause and asks if they perform exorcisms. The women look at one another with an idea. They tell her she needs to meet their friend. In a moment of calm Ellie eats a burger and fries provided by the missionaries - she appreciates their service as they drive her into the sunset.
They stop at a catholic chapel and the women explain their priest friend is an experienced exorcist. They wish her good luck as she approaches the building.
She walks the length of the chapel and sits in the second row looking up at the stained glass. The priest asks if she has seen god in her life. She answers with a NO - “What have you seen my child"?” …. Hell. Two nuns in the room look over and the three of them gaze onto Ellie’s broken eyes. The priest takes a deep breath… “Show Me”
Cut to Ellie sitting shotgun in a black 1967 Cadillac DeVille. The nuns smoke cigarette’s offering one to Ellie - she is not a regular smoker but this moment calls for a nice drag.
We’re back at the house approaching the porch. The priest hears a language in tongues from Martha and takes a moment. It’s as if he knows he is no match for this situation and may die. Ellie opens the door which is surprisingly unlocked. Reid approaches thanking the father for his blessing. The priest looks Reid up and down before telling him to stay out of his way. The nuns remove ghost hunting equipment and go to work. Reid pulls Ellie aside and thanks her for coming back. She cuts off his bull shit explaining this is for Martha and Anna to rest in piece. She tells Reid to get her a crowbar. Now powerless, Reid does whatever she asks.
Ellie pushes the furniture away from Martha’s carving wall and looks for edges. She pries open the modling below the wall and starts to peel away the wallpaper. The moment we see notation the demon of Martha unleashes a hell beyond words. Everyone is slammed into walls, picture frames fly, glass shatters cutting into everyone drawing blood and screams. The priest removes a cross and begins speaking to the demon. This gives Ellie and the nuns enough time to peel back the wallpaper so Ellie can take a photo. The priest can no longer hold the demon back - he looks to his nuns and says “Burn this place to ash” before having his neck snapped dropping dead. The sunrise pierces through the window forcing the demon to flee into the shadows. The nuns cover the priest in a blanket shedding tears while blessing him. They look to Ellie in defeat. Ellie asks them to follow her.
They arrive outside to the circular platform where Anna gave her last performance. The stage is broken and abandoned with splinters but Ellie requests the nuns to help her tidy and prepare the stage. Ellie connects her iPod to the system and a montage plays to Untitled # 8 by Sigur Ros as she learns the second half of the notation. The nuns sit on the steps watching and smoking. One of the nuns found some wine and bread in the house and they cheers to the fucked up situation. Ellie hooks her iPod up to the system and plays Untitled #8 by Sigur Ros.
As Ellie learns the final choreography Reid opens a word document and writes a confession for his crimes. His VO is heard while he watches Ellie on the platform. He finishes by stating Ellie was held against her will along with the other dancers and it is because of her this nightmare might end.
A storm brews as the sun begins to vanish. The nuns pop open umbrellas. Ellie goes to them and they pray over her. We do not hear what they say as the raindrops bounce off of them in dramatic slow motion.
As the music opens up to aggressive tones, the storm rages and the sky is filled with thunder and lightning. An eerie red glow can be seen as the rain increases. Martha descends from below the earth and travels to the stage. This is it - Ellie feels she has one chance to beat the demon and free Martha. The duet begins with a slow circle sizing one another up - Ellie makes the first move making contact with the demon and her entire body temperature drops. She pulls away frightened as the demon stares her down. She has a quick memory of Martha looking through the demon and continues the duet. Her breath shows as her temperature drops but she’s had enough of this shit - it’s now or never. Ellie takes control and we see glimpses of Martha shine through the demon. The demon pushes Ellie backwards impaling her feet on splinters from the floor. Ellie screams as more blood begins pouring out of her eyes and ears.
Light emits in the distance revealing Anna running towards the stage. She leaps into Ellie’s body and her eternal light begins to blast the demon into oblivion. It’s a push and pull. Ellie and Anna shift in and out of one another as Martha and the demon shift in and out. All white the duet continues. In a final scream both Ellie and Anna cast the demon back into hell - Ellie is thrown backward slamming her head on the stage. For a brief moment we see Martha and Anna embracing before they quickly flash away in a blinding light. Ellie passes out as blood pours out of her skull.
Ellie’s blurry vision comes into focus as the nuns tend to her wounds. They wrap her feet in bandages and give her some water. She lays her head back and watches the nuns dump gasoline on the stage and the house. Reid watches all of this from the distance in shame. He walks to the front gate as the property goes up in flames.
The nuns drive Ellie away giving her and Reid one final glance. She notices an envelope in his hand. As the firefighters arrive Reid hands them his confession. The nuns pull over to a police checkpoint. Ellie is passed out in the back with a blanket while the nuns smile towards the cop. In a comedic moment he lets them through.
The nuns hug Ellie goodbye at the edge of the ocean. She walks to the shore leaving blood in her footprints. The saltwater stings but it feels right. She removes the urn and pours the ashes into the ocean.
Cut to black.
Credits roll to Untitled #3
