THE PERFECTION: A Netflix Thriller Full of Plot Twists

The pleasure of engaging with The Perfection, Netflix’s thriller, comes from its numerous plot twists that completely upend the narrative, forcing the viewer to reassess what they thought they knew. What initially appears to be an unexpected romance quickly morphs into an even more unexpected horror — only to transform yet again into something else. Before the film even reaches its halfway point, some viewers may be exhausted by this narrative game, while others will be intrigued by the possibilities opened up by a story that evolves before their eyes. But for this kind of game to be worth the candle, it takes more than a string of surprises — it requires a director with the talent to understand that shifting the story’s direction also demands a change in style and tone.

That where there’s horror, there is also absurdity, as situations are pushed to the brink of plausibility, and that the twistiness of the plot cannot overshadow the underlying drama. Richard Shepard (The Matador, Dom Hemingway) seems aware of all this — but not necessarily skilled enough to handle it. The Perfection eventually collapses like a tower made of blocks: structurally overcomplicated despite its solid foundation.

Charlotte, once a prodigiously promising cellist, gave up ten years of her life to care for her sick mother. When her mother dies, she decides to reconnect with the musical world. While serving as a judge at a competition in Shanghai, she meets Lizzie — a few years younger, also a cellist, and a global star who attended the same music academy as Charlotte. Sparks fly immediately, and it’s no surprise that they soon end up in bed together and start planning a vacation the very next day. But Lizzie suddenly falls ill — riding a bus through a desolate landscape, she starts vomiting and suffering from diarrhea, and soon sees something crawling beneath her skin.

I’ll stop there, because what happens next completely redefines the narrative — which until that point only subtly hinted at being something quite different from what we seemed to be watching.

These hints exist both in the plot and in the visual storytelling. The identical tattoos both women have on their backs suggest a hidden connection; the scars on Charlotte’s wrists — visible when she greets her old teachers — are a sign of her tragic past. A man vomiting at a gala and brief mentions of a mysterious virus subtly foreshadow Lizzie’s fate, though not necessarily that she’ll be vomiting bugs. The film is divided into chapters with titles (especially the first one, “Mission”) that invite closer scrutiny. The frequent use of shot/reverse-shot and frame compositions — often with a distinctly De Palma-style dual-focus — draw attention to the subjectivity of the narration, as well as a certain stylization. The realism here seems illusory, though it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what gives it away.

All this contributes to the appeal of the film’s first half, which — as I’ve mentioned — begins innocently, even romantically, only to gradually become a horror film with hard-to-predict intentions. Given Get Out, it’s clear that casting Allison Williams as Charlotte was no accident — something the actress skillfully leverages.

Meanwhile, her co-star Logan Browning begins as a charismatic, sensual presence, only to abandon that allure in the latter part of the film when her character is stricken with illness. Up to this point, The Perfection surprises with how deftly it steers the plot without revealing what it’s truly about.

Shepard lays the groundwork for a series of revelations with confidence, but when they come, they feel as if they’ve been lifted from an entirely different movie. The plot veers into the realm of macabre, cruel, and surreal fairy tale — which isn’t necessarily a flaw — but the overly serious tone makes it feel like unintentional camp.

Perhaps that was the filmmakers’ intention, but even that possibility is undercut when the film gives way to a heavy-handed literalness clearly shaped by the #MeToo era. The issue isn’t the story or the subject matter (which Shepard and co-writers Eric C. Charmelo and Nicole Snyder ultimately take on), but the way it’s handled — struggling to find irony or humor, while using outrageous twists as a platform for social commentary. The final scene is visually striking, showing a kind of perfection in sadistic bodily symmetry — but by then, it’s too late to save the film.

I can easily imagine The Perfection in the hands of a South Korean director, someone skilled at navigating the borders of genre, tone, and convention. In the hands of Park Chan-wook (whom Shepard cited as an inspiration in an interview), this story could have gained a far more convincing expression — finding the perfect balance between the tragedy of the subject matter, the twisted nature of humanity that can see compassion in acts of cruelty, and ultra-brutal grotesquerie. Then again, the Oldboy director recently made The Handmaiden, crafting a delicious cocktail of the very same elements that Shepard tries to juggle here — sex, art, deception, rape, and revenge. For the sake of the American film, it’s probably best not to compare the two.