You probably didn’t recognize me because of wig and foreign accent.
I am sensual and exotic trained hitwoman. My character is unlike anything you see before in male-dominated action film. More violence! More sex! More explosions! Forget Bond, Tom Cruise, and Christmas movie with Bruce Willis.
This will be motion picture awakening for ze ages.
I am Svetlana, and I am lethal. I sit here alone and innocent at bar with my blood red lipstick and Smirnoff vodka. Cyanide pills in my purse. Just a regular espionage night out.
My skin sees no battle scars; it is flawless like untouched snow.
You may think I am just hot slice of stroganoff, but I ready to pounce like Siberian tiger, seducing you for your wildest vulnerabilities. Little do you know, I have wires strapped to my lingerie and I record our suspicious conversation. I can drink you under ze table, then kill you with it.
I make many sacrifices, including my lover, who is shot in bathtub during ze first four minutes of movie. You will probably still be in line for popcorn, but there will be no subsequent references to his suspicious death. Tragically, I exchange protection of my starving, war-torn family for my allegiance as undercover Russian spy/dominatrix.
No challenge can defeat me. There’s dangerous foreign men wearing black turtlenecks. There is villain with mole on his chin that is difficult not to stare at, and his accomplice/one-eyed cat that makes my allergies act up.
There are getaway scenes where I escape down the stairs in a ball gown and heels – while the actress who plays me will inevitably make $10 million less than my male counterpart, Boris. He mostly wear tuxedos and drink martini.
Does Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson escape from massive, shit-yourself explosion wearing Louboutins? Unlikely!
I, Svetlana, am full of surprises up my bulletproof sleeves.
Your jaw will drop to ze ugly carpeted movie theater floor when BAM! I am double agent, forced to turn on Boris, who I have unresolved sexual tensions with. I kill him in cold blood with my bare hands, but not before I show up to his room wearing conspicuous trench coat – and only conspicuous trench coat.
I give you war, and a piece of me.
I change my wigs six times throughout ze film. Those bangs may look like I cut them myself after I have 2007-era Britney catastrophic meltdown, but the producer say my bangs are sexy and dramatic. They have own Instagram account. In some scenes, I only wear wig.
I am master of disguise and will deceive and manipulate others to exploit their secrets for blackmail. Some of my best disguises are sexy Russian nun, sexy Russian Trix cereal rabbit, and sexy Russian dishwasher (the appliance, not the person). I suspect you will see them in a pop-up Halloween store that take over failed name-brand furniture store near you this fall.
Did I mention action stunts? I don’t do anything dangerous, like jumping off buildings in physics-defying trajectories. Camera men film close-ups of my manicured hand holding ze revolver. It look real badass onscreen. The gun isn’t real, of course. I hope Svetlana will take it to the next level in inevitable, predictably low box office-performing sequel.
My other intense stunt is getting out of luxury infinity pools in monokini. We don’t do action scene in water. I just dip myself under and slowly emerge from pool like phoenix rising from ashes. I thought we had perfect on first shot, but script has note to film scene thirty-four times from different angles.
Ugh, male screenwriters.
