Anya Taylor-Joy

She grew up speaking only Spanish, not a word of English in her vocab until she hit 8 and landed in London. Total culture shock, right? But she picked up English fast—kids are like little language sponges. Still, Spanish is her comfort zone, and when she switches back, you can totally hear her Argentine roots. It’s not just the words, it’s the vibe, the rhythm, that unmistakable accent that gives her away. Even now, she’ll flip between Spanish and English like it’s nothing, but you can always tell which one feels most like home. It’s funny, though, because in London she basically had to relearn how to express herself, figure out slang, all that jazz. She’s fluent now, but there’s this hint of Buenos Aires in her voice that never really faded. It’s like carrying a piece of home wherever she goes, even when she’s blending in with a British crowd.

You do not mess with my characters. That line right there just kinda hangs in the air, doesn’t it? It’s the whole damn vibe of the movie—a writer who’s way too invested in the lives they’ve created. We’re talking about someone who’d rather burn the world than let anybody else touch their story. The plot? It’s all about boundaries getting trampled. Some shady figure starts screwing with the writer’s creations, and honestly, things get dark fast. You’ve got obsession, paranoia, lines between fiction and reality blurring until you can’t tell what’s what anymore. Every scene feels like it’s daring you to guess what’s real. And this main character? They’re not exactly stable—think unraveling at the seams as the pressure ramps up. By the time it’s over, you’re left wondering if anyone’s really in control, or if the characters are running the show. It’s a wild, trippy ride—mess with their characters, and things fall apart.