Review: Ballerina (dir. by Len Wiseman)

Posted on March 3, 2026 by Arleigh

“You don’t choose to be a killer, you are chosen.” — The Chancellor

Ballerina lands in theaters feeling like someone finally turned the volume up on the quieter, more balletic side of the John Wick universe. Anchored by Ana de Armas’s poised, ferocious turn, the film doesn’t reinvent the neon‑lit, bullet‑cartoon rules of the franchise so much as rearrange them into a new rhythm. It’s still a very familiar kind of action movie—assassins, codes, bodies on the floor—but it carves out its own niche by centering a woman who’s not just another lethal accessory to John’s world, but someone the world has already trained into a weapon.

At the same time, Ballerina leans hard on the style and flourish of the later John Wick films, and that’s both its main selling point and its biggest limitation. The way shots linger on gun grips, the way the camera circles around bodies mid‑spin, the way every hallway fight feels like stage choreography—it’s all very familiar, very polished, and very much a continuation of the franchise’s visual language. That’s great if you’re here for the aesthetic, but it also means the film sometimes feels more like an extension of the Wick universe’s attitude than a story that confidently stands on its own two feet.

Ana de Armas plays Eve Macarro, a young assassin who grew up in the shadow of the Ruska Roma and the Continental, groomed to kill long before she fully understood what she was doing. The story unfolds in a loose “between films” slot in the Wick timeline, so fans who care about franchise continuity will get their little Easter eggs and cameos, but the film smartly never gets completely bogged down in explaining how this fits into every rulebook. Instead, it leans into the idea that the John Wick universe is big enough that other hunters can walk around in it, following their own grudges and grief. Eve’s motive is straightforward: she wants to track down the people she believes killed her father when she was a child, and along the way she has to square off against both the old guard of her upbringing and the cult‑like killers who seem to operate just outside the established order.

Like a lot of John Wick entries, though, Ballerina is ultimately more interested in expanding the world and reinforcing its rules than drilling deep into its own plot. Eve’s revenge‑driven quest gives the film its spine, but the mechanics of that revenge are often secondary to the chance to show off another assassin enclave, another weird code, or another showdown that feels like a set‑piece first and a character beat second. You can feel the priorities: where she travels, who she bumps into, and how this underworld operates often matter more than whether her arc is especially surprising or emotionally rich. The plotting starts to feel like connective tissue between bigger, more stylized sequences, and that’s where the reliance on franchise style starts to hurt more than help.

The film’s greatest strength is how it employs the language of ballet and violence in the same breath. The title Ballerina might make you expect a lot of literal tutus and pirouettes, and there’s a bit of that in the opening stretches, but the real choreography is in the fight scenes. Eve’s movement is light‑on‑her‑feet one moment—a few spins, a quick sidestep—and then suddenly brutal, close‑quarters savagery the next. The camera doesn’t just document her skills; it dances with them, letting wide‑angle shots show off the architecture of a fight before snapping into tight, impact‑heavy close‑ups. It’s unmistakably a Wick‑style approach, only dialed into a slightly more feminine, almost theatrical register.

De Armas deserves a lot of credit for making Eve feel like a real person, not just a killing machine with a pretty face. She’s cold, yes, but there’s weariness under the surface, the kind that comes from being raised in a world where emotions are a liability. The script doesn’t drown her in backstory; it just lets small moments—a hesitation, a glance at a photo, the way she holds a gun—do the work. When she finally loses her composure and starts to scream, grunt, and visibly struggle during later fights, the effect is more powerful than if she’d been effortlessly killing everyone from minute one. She sweats, she bleeds, she gets thrown around, and that makes her victories feel earned, not just cool.

Stylistically, Ballerina is very much in line with the rest of the franchise: glossy, slightly over‑the‑top, and hyper‑aware of its own aesthetic. The camera work is sleek, the color grading pops, and the score leans into synth textures that feel like a slightly more elegant cousin of the usual Wick pulse. There are also some deliberately playful musical choices—bits of Tchaikovsky and other classical motifs that echo in the background during key scenes—which tie the idea of ballet back to the film’s emotional core. The setting shifts from the familiar New York–style Continental spaces to a quieter, almost fairy‑tale European village that houses a different kind of assassins’ retirement community. It’s a neat trick: the filmmakers give us something that still feels like the same universe but just enough of a different flavor that it doesn’t feel like a rerun.

But that lush style also underlines how much the film is prioritizing world‑building over a tight narrative. Conversations about the Ruska Roma, the Continental, and the cult‑like assassins’ outpost are there less to advance Eve’s inner journey and more to remind us that the John Wick universe is vast, layered, and full of hierarchies. Fans who love the lore will probably eat that up, but if you’re hoping for a more self‑contained narrative, it can start to feel like you’re watching a very expensive lore compendium. The emotional core is there—it just has to fight for space amidst all the visual flexing and mythology maintenance.

Where Ballerina becomes a bit uneven is in its plotting. The basic “one girl, one very long night of revenge” template is solid, but the script doesn’t always give it enough depth or surprise. There are too many conversations where characters explain the rules of the world to each other, or recap what’s already been established, rather than using those moments to add nuance to the characters or relationships. The side figures—like various crime bosses, elders, and reluctant allies—do their jobs entertainingly enough, but they don’t all get the same level of interior life that Eve has. Some of the supporting performances are strong across the board, but the material doesn’t always push them to do anything more than punctuate the action beats.

Keanu Reeves drops in briefly as John Wick, and the cameo is handled with the kind of restraint that makes it feel like a favor rather than a stunt. He doesn’t hang around; he makes a sharp, efficient entrance, has a few quiet exchanges, and then exits, leaving the movie firmly in Eve’s hands. That’s crucial, because one of the criticisms of earlier spin‑off ideas was that they’d feel like vanity detours or glorified cameos. Here, John’s presence actually reinforces the idea that this is someone else’s story now, and that he’s just another player in a much larger ecosystem of killers.

The film’s worst moments are also some of its most visually striking: the bigger, more outlandish set‑pieces that lean fully into the franchise’s “go‑no‑go” action logic. The final third, in particular, is one long, almost goofy crescendo of fights, stunts, and absurdly lethal props. It’s a lot of fun in the moment, but it also underlines how thin the actual plotting can be. When the camera is spinning around a flamethrower‑wielding Eve or a hallway of assassins dropping in from the ceiling, the movie doesn’t always give us enough emotional context to care about who’s living or dying beyond the immediate spectacle. It’s the kind of sequence that will make fans cheer in the theater, but might look a bit clumsier on a second viewing.

One area where Ballerina arguably improves on the core series is its handling of gender dynamics. Eve isn’t fetishized; she’s allowed to be both emotionally grounded and physically dominant without being framed as some kind of fantasy object. The film nods to the idea of “girl power” in the assassin world, but it also lets the character operate within familiar constraints—tradition, hierarchy, and expectation—instead of pretending she’s a one‑woman revolution. She’s tough, but she’s also vulnerable, and that balance keeps the tone from tipping entirely into empty empowerment sloganeering. The way the movie treats her relationships—with her father’s memory, with her mentors, and with the people she’s ordered to kill—adds a layer of emotional sophistication that earlier entries in the franchise often glossed over for the sake of pure momentum.

If you’re coming into Ballerina expecting a radical reinvention of the series, you’ll probably leave a little underwhelmed. It doesn’t rip up the rulebook or deliver a huge thematic twist on what we already know about this universe. Instead, it refocuses the camera on a different kind of protagonist, lets the familiar style breathe a little differently, and proves that the world of John Wick is big enough to house more than just one lone wolf. It’s a stylish, violent, occasionally silly, definitely pulpy action film that knows exactly what it wants to be: a long, bloody ballet in which the lead is a woman who’s finally ready to dance on her own terms—even if the choreography sometimes matters more than the story it’s supposedly telling.

John Wick Franchise (spinoffs)

John Wick: Chapter 4 (dir. by Chad Stahelski) Review

Posted on March 2, 2026 by Arleigh

“Those who cling to death; live. Those who cling to life; die.” – Caine

John Wick: Chapter 4 is the kind of action movie that doesn’t just lean into the spotlight—it steps into it, throws a flak vest over its suit, and then spends the next three hours filleting an entire world of assassins with brutal, balletic precision. At this point in the franchise, you’re either all‑in on the rules of the High Table, the Continental, and Wick’s endless mourning for his wife Helen, or you’re just here for the sheer spectacle of seeing Keanu Reeves beat up a continent’s worth of bad guys. The film not only respects that split audience, it tries really hard to satisfy both with a mix of operatic emotion, globe‑trotting locations, and a ridiculous amount of meticulously choreographed carnage.

One of the first things that stands out in John Wick: Chapter 4 is how much the world has expanded since the first film. The script doesn’t reinvent the core idea—Wick wants out, the system wants him broken, and the only way he can be free is by killing his way to the top—but it does layer on new zones, new factions, and a whole supporting cast of assassins who feel like they’re pulled out of their own B‑movies. From Morocco to Berlin, from New York to Paris, the film leans into a kind of hyper‑theatrical world‑building where every hotel lobby, nightclub, and underground fighting arena looks like it was designed by a comic‑book artist with a fetish for brutalism and neon lighting. That’s not a bad thing; it makes the universe feel lived‑in, even if it occasionally borders on self‑parody. The film also shuffles in a few fresh faces that give the usual assassin lineup some new flavors, including Donnie Yen as Caine, the stoic, blind assassin who carries both lethal efficiency and a quiet moral weight; Hiroyuki Sanada as the disciplined Shimazu, whose traditional demeanor and craftsmanship with a sword add a very grounded, almost old‑world element to the chaos; and Rina Sawayama as the high‑ranking assassin Akira, whose presence brings a mix of ruthless professionalism and a genuinely intriguing emotional arc that doesn’t feel like an afterthought.

There’s also Scott Adkins playing against his usual type as Killa Harkan, the head of the German Branch of the High Table, showing up in a surprisingly decent‑looking fat suit that gives him a grotesquely imposing presence while still hinting at the physicality audiences know from his other action roles. The character leans into the film’s tendency toward the theatrical, but he’s not just a walking gag; he fits into the world as one of the more visually exaggerated enforcers of the High Table’s rule. Alongside him, Shamier Anderson brings a lean, relentless energy as the Tracker, Wick’s shadowy, almost dog‑like pursuer whose loyalty to the system makes him more than just another interchangeable goon, while Marko Zaror crops up in the Berlin arena sequences as a brutal, wiry fighter whose style adds yet another distinct flavor to the movie’s unusually diverse fight roster. Taken together, these additions don’t just pad the body count; they give the film a sense that the John Wick universe is big enough to host everyone from classical swordsmen to modern martial‑arts specialists and even a few horror‑movie‑style fanatics, all orbiting the same doomed man.

The villain this time around is the Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont, played by Bill Skarsgård, and he’s the kind of High Table emissary who exists purely to make John’s life harder while reminding the audience that the system is more bureaucratic than it is mysterious. He’s got the cold, manipulative air of a corporate executive who’s never actually touched a gun but still has the power to ruin people’s lives on paper. His presence allows the film to spend more time on the politics of the assassin underground, which in turn forces John to pull in a wider network of allies, return favors, and, in a few cases, rebuild old friendships that were already on thin ice. That network includes the Bowery King, Caine, and the rest of the new cast, all of whom add texture to the usual slug‑fest even if the plot’s core emotional arc is still very much about a man who keeps remembering the wife he can’t get back.

Where Chapter 4 really flexes its muscles is in the action, and nowhere is that more obvious than in the extended Paris set‑piece that basically becomes the film’s centerpiece. It starts on the open city streets at night, with Wick already on the move, guns blazing and bodies piling up as the camera weaves through car‑chase energy and close‑quarters shoving. The chaos then escalates when the sequence shifts to the Arc de Triomphe roundabout, where the circular layout turns the whole area into a spinning, three‑dimensional shooting gallery. Cars whip around the monument, bullets ricochet off stone and metal, and the sheer spatial awareness of the choreography makes it feel like you’re watching a real‑time videogame map being systematically cleared in concentric circles, except the “map” is an iconic piece of Parisian infrastructure.

The escalation doesn’t stop there. The action migrates into a mostly empty, half‑abandoned apartment complex that feels like a brutalist concrete maze, each floor and hallway turning into a new arena for sprinting, reloading, and last‑minute dodges. The geography of the building becomes a character of its own, with shots that snake down stairwells, peer through doorways, and frame John as a lone figure ducking and weaving through a vertical death‑trap. It’s inside this apartment complex that the film drops one of its most memorable visual flourishes: a frenetic, prolonged shootout using dragon’s breath shotgun shells—incendiary rounds that send flaming pellets spraying outward—captured from an isometric, top‑down angle that directly evokes the look of indie action‑game favorites like The Hong Kong Massacre. The camera rides high above each room as Wick storms through, watching clusters of fire and bullets explode outward in geometric patterns, turning the interior layout into a living level map. It’s a moment that feels less like traditional cinema and more like a loving, hyper‑stylized homage to the way videogames can turn gunplay into a choreographed light show.

The final stretch of this extended Paris gauntlet is the brutal climb up the Rue Foyatier stairway to the Sacré‑Cœur steps, where the film’s choreographic and camera work reach their most expressionistic peak. The wide shots of Paris looming below, the narrowing of the stairway itself, and the way the camera sometimes drifts into an almost dreamlike, slightly elevated angle all combine to make the sequence feel like an endurance ritual rather than just another fight. By the time Wick reaches the top—after being hurled back down and forced to claw his way up again—the audience feels just as exhausted as he looks, which is exactly the point.

That’s part of what makes the film work when it isn’t just going hand‑to‑hand with you for nearly three hours. Beneath all the shooting and stabbing, John Wick: Chapter 4 is also quietly insistent on the idea that this is a tragedy. John Wick isn’t just a guy who happened to fall into a secret society of killers; he’s a man who has been reshaped by grief, loss, and the realization that every compromise he’s made along the way has only made his cage tighter. The film doesn’t over‑explain this; instead, it lets you watch him limp, cough up blood, and drag his battered frame through one more ambush, as if his body is the only thing strong enough to keep him breathing. The supporting characters—especially those tied to the High Table or to his past, including the newer faces like Caine, Shimazu, Akira, Killa Harkan, the Tracker, and the arena fighters—get a few moments to show that they’re not just cannon fodder, either. They have responsibilities, hierarchies, and codes that clash with the arbitrary cruelty of the Table, even if most of them still end up in the path of Wick’s bullets.

On the flip side, the movie is also unapologetically aware of how silly it is. There’s a knowing winking about the dialogue, the neon‑lit set designs, and the way lines like “You have until sunrise” are delivered with the gravity of a Shakespearean prophecy. The film doesn’t try to make you forget that this is ultimately a high‑end first‑person‑shooter turned into a live‑action ballet. It leans into the absurdity of escalating stakes, the way the world keeps conspiring to throw more and more assassins at John, and the fact that even when he’s bleeding out, he still insists on finishing a fight with a signature flourish. For some viewers, that will feel like a strength, a kind of self‑aware celebration of the genre. For others, it’ll feel like the moment the franchise tips from cool to camp, especially when the pacing starts to drag a bit in the middle section and the mix of formal duels, fat‑suited branch leaders, and endless negotiations begins to feel a little overstuffed.

The film’s length is its biggest liability. At around 169 minutes, John Wick: Chapter 4 is not shy about giving you more than enough time to live inside its world, but it also doesn’t always feel like it needs every last minute. The middle act, in particular, spends a lot of time on formalities, treaties, duels, and metaphysical negotiations with the High Table, which can slow the momentum when what you really want is for John to do another hallway‑fight or another truck‑pile‑up. There are times when the script feels like it’s stretching itself out to keep the spectacle going rather than tightening the storytelling, and that’s when the silliness of it all—like the deliberately over‑the‑top presence of Killa Harkan and the packed gallery of new faces—can start to work against the emotional weight the film is trying to build. A leaner, more ruthless edit would probably make the overall experience feel sharper and more focused.

Still, there’s a lot to admire in what the film manages to pull off. The sound design, the camera work, and the way the choreography is almost always shot in wide, relatively clear takes all combine to make the action feel substantial rather than edited into incomprehensible chaos. The supporting cast—Donnie Yen, Hiroyuki Sanada, Rina Sawayama, Scott Adkins, Shamier Anderson, Marko Zaror, and others—add texture and personality to a world that could otherwise feel like a series of interchangeable goons. They’re not just there to get shot; they’re there to give the film a sense of a larger, more complicated ecosystem of killers, each with their own rules and reasons.

In the end, John Wick: Chapter 4 is less a strict narrative continuation and more of a cinematic endurance event. It doesn’t reinvent the franchise, but it pushes the Wick formula into more extreme, more theatrical, and more emotionally committed territory. It’s messy in places, overstuffed in others, but it also has a few moments of pure, jaw‑dropping action that will probably end up in “best of the decade” lists among genre fans, especially that Paris mega‑set‑piece that starts on open streets, spirals through the Arc de Triomphe, invades an empty apartment complex for that dragon’s‑breath top‑down firefight, and climaxes on the Rue Foyatier stairs. If you’re someone who cares about emotional coherence and tight plotting, the film will probably test your patience. If you’re someone who’s here for the ballet of bullets, the operatic bloodshed, the eccentric new cast, and the sight of Keanu Reeves refusing to stay down no matter how many times the universe tries to kill him, then John Wick: Chapter 4 is a pretty satisfying send‑off—or at least a very loud, very stylish stop on the way there.

Weapons used by John Wick throughout the film

Glock 34 (TTI Combat Master Package) – His primary pistol early on, including the Morocco sequence against the new Elder and during the Osaka Continental battle.
Agency Arms Glock 17 – Used by Wick during the garden fight at the Osaka Continental after he takes it off a High Table enforcer.
TTI Pit Viper – The “hero gun” of the movie, custom‑built for Chapter 4, used heavily in the Paris staircase and duel lead‑up sequences.
Thompson Center Arms Encore pistol – custom-made single-shot pistols created specifically for the Sacre-Couer duel.
TTI Dracarys Gen‑12 – The dragon’s‑breath shotgun he grabs during the Paris apartment sequence, used in the isometric top‑down “videogame” style scene.
Spike’s Tactical Compressor carbine – Used by Wick after he takes it from High Table enforcers during the Osaka Continental fight.

John Wick Franchise (spinoffs)

John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum (dir. by Chad Stahelski) Review

Posted on March 1, 2026 by Arleigh

“Nothing’s ever just a conversation with you, John.” — Sofia Al-Azwar

John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum launches straight from the previous installment’s shocking finale, hurling John into a frantic dash through New York’s underbelly as a $14 million bounty turns every shadow into a threat. This chapter dials the franchise’s signature intensity even higher, plunging you into an assassin underworld bound by ironclad rules that start to fracture under pressure. The action explodes with creative savagery, though the storyline sometimes buckles beneath its ambitions, offering a pulse-pounding yet slightly bloated addition to the saga.

The movie opens with John scrambling through New York streets, his excommunicado status ticking down like a bomb. He’s got one hour before every killer in the city turns on him, and boy, do they. Keanu Reeves is back in top form, looking battered but unbreakable, his puppy-dog eyes conveying more grief and determination than any monologue could. The film’s Latin subtitle, Parabellum—meaning “prepare for war”—sets the tone perfectly as John grabs weapons from the oddest places, like a horse stable or a knife shop where he gets to use blades almost like guns with each throw.

What makes this entry stand out is how it expands the Wick-verse without losing that gritty intimacy. We dive deeper into the High Table’s bureaucracy, with the Adjudicator (Asia Kate Dillon) showing up as this cold, efficient enforcer who judges allies like Winston (Ian McShane) and Charon (Lance Reddick) for helping John. It’s a smart addition, adding layers to the rules that have always governed this world—markers, blood oaths, no business on Continental grounds. Halle Berry pops in as Sofia, an old flame running a Moroccan palace full of attack dogs, leading to one of the film’s wildest sequences where pooches tear into bad guys alongside John. Mark Dacascos as Zero, the sushi-loving villain who’s bald and sports a penchant for movie quotes, brings some quirky charm, even if he’s no Santino from Chapter 2.

Director Chad Stahelski, a former stuntman himself, continues to treat action like high art, and man, does Chapter 3 flex its muscles here harder than ever. The choreography is balletic and brutal, blending gun fu with knives, swords, and even books—there’s a library fight where John uses a volume as a shield and club, then politely reshelves it, which is peak Wick weirdness. Fights escalate from motorcycle sword duels slicing through rainy streets to hall-of-mirrors mayhem that nods to Enter the Dragon, with reflections multiplying the chaos into a dizzying ballet of blades. Indonesian martial arts legends Cecep Arif Rahman and Yayan Ruhian, The Raid 2 alumni who make their franchise debut here, light up the massive finale melee, trading blows with John in a flurry of fists, elbows, and blades that feels like a love letter to silat and caps the chaos perfectly.

Every sequence feels meticulously planned, relying on practical stunts that make CGI-heavy blockbusters look lazy and fake—think real falls, real crashes, real bone-crunching impacts that leave you wincing. The gun fu style—precise headshots amid flips, slides, and reloads—never gets old, evolving with fresh twists like pencil kills upgraded to book barrages or horse-mounted shootouts. The film’s true strength lies in these set pieces: they’re not just fights, they’re symphony-like spectacles where camera work syncs breathlessly with the violence, spatial awareness stays razor-sharp so you track every bullet and block, and the escalation feels organic, building from claustrophobic knife scraps to epic rooftop brawls. It’s the kind of action that honors the genre’s legends while pushing boundaries, making you forget any plot gripes amid the sheer kinetic joy.

That said, it’s not all flawless, and one drawback from Chapter 2 creeps back in here: the film leans heavily into more world-building of its universe, which puts character development on the back burner. John’s arc—fighting to earn back his freedom—repeats beats from the previous entry, and some twists, like Winston’s apparent betrayal, land more as fan service than emotional gut-punches. At 131 minutes, it drags in spots, especially during quieter moments that try to humanize John but end up repetitive, while the dialogue stays sparse and stylized, leaving characters like the Elder (Saïd Taghmaoui) feeling underdeveloped. But then again, the franchise has staked its claim on being action-focused from the jump, so if fans are bought into this wild ride by now, they’re probably here for the balletic bloodshed over deep psychology anyway—it’s like the film loves its assassins’ code more than fleshing out motivations beyond revenge.

Visually, it’s a stunner. Dan Laustsen’s cinematography turns New York into a neon-soaked hellscape, with rain-slicked streets and ornate Continental lobbies popping in crisp 2.40:1. The Morocco desert scenes add exotic flair, though they borrow heavily from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Tyler Bates and Joel J. Richard’s score pounds with industrial electronica, syncing perfectly to the violence, while select tracks like Team Rezo’s “Pray for Kaeo” amp up horse chases. Sound design is Oscar-worthy—the thud of fists, crack of gunfire, all mixed to immerse you in the carnage.

Keanu Reeves carries it all, 54 at release but moving like a man half his age thanks to rigorous training. His physical commitment sells John’s exhaustion; you see the toll in every limp and gasp. Supporting cast shines too—McShane’s suave Winston steals scenes with dry wit, Reddick’s Charon is unflappably loyal, and Berry holds her own in dog-assisted fury. Dacascos adds levity, slicing foes with a sunny disposition, but Dillon’s Adjudicator is more menacing presence than fleshed-out foe. It’s ensemble work in service of spectacle, not drama.

For fans of the series, John Wick: Chapter 3 delivers bigger, bolder chaos that honors stunt performers as the real stars. It celebrates cinema history with nods to Buster Keaton (a horse chase echoes The General) and Hong Kong action flicks, all while pushing practical effects. Critics raved about the thrills, calling it “blissfully brutal” entertainment that shames neighbors like generic superhero fare. Audiences loved the over-the-top kills and Reeves’ stoic heroics.

To keep it fair, though, this isn’t exactly groundbreaking stuff. The simplicity that charmed in the original—a widower’s rampage—has bloated into a globe-trotting saga chasing its own tail. Female characters, while badass like Sofia, still orbit John’s story, and the violence, though stylish, borders on cartoonish excess. Some felt it lost narrative steam, prioritizing set pieces over heart, turning Wick from grieving everyman to invincible machine. Compared to Chapter 2‘s operatic betrayal, this one’s more procedural, like a video game level grind.

Ultimately, John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum is a love letter to action cinema, casual fun if you’re in for the mayhem. It’s not deep, but damn if it doesn’t make you cheer as John unleashes hell. Grab popcorn, dim the lights, and prepare for war—you won’t regret it, unless you’re after Oscar bait. Solid 8/10 for pure, delirious popcorn thrills.

Weapons used by John Wick throughout the film

TTI STI 2011 Combat Master: Iconic pistol from the armory scene—John’s “2011” choice with optics, extended mags, and flawless reliability for extended shootouts.
Glock 19 / 19X / 17: Multiple pickups during mint guard fights in Casablanca and Continental siege; versatile Glocks he commandeers mid-battle.
Walther PPQ / CCP: Snagged from assassins during the motorcycle chase; quick-use comped models for on-the-run defense.
TTI SIG-Sauer MPX Carbine: Siege standout with Trijicon MRO sight, Streamlight laser, and +11 mags—John’s signature stance shines in hallway clears.
SIG-Sauer MPX / MPX Copperhead: Casablanca mint raid grabs; compact 9mm shredders with red dots and grips for close-quarters fury.
Benelli M4 Super 90: Climactic Continental siege with Charon; armor-piercing slugs, extended tubes, ghost rings—devastating hallway blasts.
Benelli M2 Super 90 (TTI Ultimate package, implied variants): Siege support; Charon favors these, John grabs similar for enforcer waves.

John Wick Franchise (spinoffs)

John Wick
John Wick: Chapter 2

John Wick: Chapter 2 (dir. by Chad Stahelski) Review

Posted on February 28, 2026 by Arleigh

“You stabbed the devil in the back and forced him back into the life that he had just left. You incinerated the priest’s temple, burned it to the ground. Now he’s free… What do you think he’ll do?” — Winston Scott

John Wick: Chapter 2 picks up right where the first film left off, diving headfirst into a world of high-stakes assassinations and stylish revenge with Keanu Reeves back as the grieving, unstoppable hitman. It’s a sequel that doubles down on the balletic action and expands the mythology without losing that raw, personal edge from the original. Directed by Chad Stahelski, it delivers non-stop thrills but occasionally stumbles with its sprawling plot and relentless pace.

John Wick is trying to lay low after avenging his dog’s death and reclaiming his car, but fate—or more specifically, a blood oath called a “marker”—drags him back into the game. An Italian crime lord named Santino D’Antonio cashes in that marker, forcing Wick to assassinate his own sister so Santino can take over the family empire. What starts as a reluctant job spirals into a city-wide manhunt, with Wick racking up bodies across New York and Rome while navigating the Continental Hotel’s strict no-kill rules and the politics of a shadowy assassin network. The story is still simple at its core—do a job, get betrayed, fight your way out—but it peels back more layers of this underworld, introducing gold coins as currency, tailors who outfit killers like runway models, and sommeliers who pair firearms with clients like fine wine.

Keanu Reeves owns the role here, his stoic intensity and physical commitment making every punch and headshot feel earned. He’s not exactly stretching himself as an actor—his deadpan delivery borders on monotone—but in this context, that restraint works, turning Wick into a mythic figure who’s equal parts broken widower and relentless killing machine. The supporting cast adds plenty of flavor: Common shines as Cassian, Santino’s loyal bodyguard and Wick’s equal in a fight, with their subway duel using silenced pistols becoming an instant standout for its mix of tension and dark humor. Ian McShane returns as Winston, the Continental’s suave manager, bringing a dry, almost amused detachment to the chaos, while Ruby Rose makes an impression as Ares, Santino’s mute enforcer whose sign-language threats and sharp physicality speak louder than words. Laurence Fishburne appears as the Bowery King, chewing scenery and hinting at deeper rivalries to come. Not every character is fully fleshed out—Santino himself sometimes veers into cartoonish villain territory—but the ensemble keeps the film lively and fun to watch.

The action is where John Wick: Chapter 2 truly shines, cranking the first film’s gun-fu into something close to operatic. Much of the authenticity in the gunplay choreography stems from Keanu Reeves’ legendary dedication to his craft—he trained extensively with celebrity gun trainer Taran Butler and Taran Tactical Innovations, becoming an expert 3-gun practitioner in the process. Taran Tactical not only provided the custom guns for this film and its subsequent sequels but also helped craft the realistic, fluid shooting sequences that feel like a masterclass in tactical movement. The opening car chase and warehouse brawl set the tone, with Wick dismantling goons using everything from knives to close-quarters takedowns. Later comes the much-teased moment where he turns a humble pencil into a lethally precise weapon. The Rome sequence is a highlight: Wick moves through catacombs and nightclubs like a walking arsenal, turning ancient corridors into a bullet-riddled maze, then facing a relentless wave of assassins amid concert lights and stone arches. The stairwell brawl with Cassian is brutal and almost slapstick in its escalation, as the two tumble down step after step, refusing to quit. A hall-of-mirrors shootout plays with reflection and distortion, turning gunfights into something visually playful as well as deadly. The camera stays steady and clear, letting you appreciate the choreography instead of hiding it behind shaky cam and quick cuts, which makes the violence feel both visceral and strangely elegant.

Visually, the film is a neon-soaked feast, trading the first movie’s moody blues for more varied, vibrant palettes. Cinematography leans into bold colors and strong compositions: the Continental’s warm golds, Rome’s stony greys and rich reds, New York’s cold night streets lit by harsh white and electric signage. The production design sells the assassin world as both stylish and slightly surreal. You get bespoke atelier shops that sell tactical suits lined with experimental ballistic-resistant fabric, underground vaults where every weapon looks museum-ready, and Continental sommeliers who double as gun experts, recommending the best weapons for whatever task is at hand. The score and sound design lean heavily into pulsing electronic beats and percussive hits that sync with the rhythm of gunshots and blows, giving big set pieces a musical, almost dance-like quality.

That said, the film is not without its flaws. At a little over two hours, it sometimes feels like it’s indulging its world-building at the expense of pacing. The explanation of markers, excommunication rules, and the High Table is cool in theory, but the movie occasionally pauses too long to explain its own lore when you’d rather keep the momentum going. Compared to the raw emotional drive of the first film—where a dead dog and stolen car were more than enough to get you fully on Wick’s side—this one’s central motivation feels more mechanical. He’s bound by honor and obligation here, which makes sense for the character, but doesn’t hit with the same gut-level impact. There’s also less room for genuine character development; Wick mostly shifts between “tired” and “angry,” and the supporting cast, as entertaining as they are, tend to orbit him rather than grow in their own right.

Tone-wise, John Wick: Chapter 2 leans even harder into heightened, borderline comic-book absurdity. The idea that there are assassins on every street corner, all answering the same call, is fun but pushes the world toward parody if you think too hard about it. The body count is enormous, the kill shots are almost always headshots, and the film rarely slows down to let the gravity of that register. There are moments of humor—deadpan exchanges, visual gags, Wick’s resigned reactions to yet another betrayal—that keep it from feeling grim, but they’re more like pressure valves than fully integrated wit. If you’re looking for commentary on violence or a deconstruction of the hitman myth, this isn’t that movie. It’s more interested in giving you the cleanest, slickest version of the fantasy and trusting you to go along for the ride.

On representation and subtext, the movie is pretty standard action fare: mostly male, mostly focused on coolness over any deeper exploration of gender, race, or class. Characters like Ares and Gianna D’Antonio hint at more interesting female perspectives within this world, but they’re quickly sidelined or removed from play. The Bowery King’s network suggests a class-conscious angle—homeless people as invisible eyes and ears of the city—but the film doesn’t dwell on it beyond the “secret army in plain sight” trope. None of this ruins the film, but it does keep it from feeling particularly fresh outside of its choreography and design.

Where the movie really succeeds is in firmly establishing John Wick as an ongoing franchise rather than a one-off surprise hit. The ending pushes Wick into even more precarious territory and sets up a larger arc without feeling like pure sequel bait. It expands the playground, raises the stakes, and leaves him in a place where you genuinely want to see what comes next. If the first film was a tightly contained revenge story, John Wick: Chapter 2 is the moment the series decides to become a full-blown saga.

Overall, John Wick: Chapter 2 is a stylish, hyper-violent, and extremely entertaining sequel that leans into its strengths—choreography, world-building, and Keanu Reeves’ physical presence—while showing a few growing pains in pacing and emotional weight. It may not have the purity or surprise factor of the original, but it compensates by embracing a larger, crazier canvas and delivering some of the most memorable action set pieces of the last decade. If you’re on board with the idea of a grief-stricken assassin turning his pain into an art form of meticulously staged carnage, this chapter absolutely delivers.

Weapons used by John Wick throughout the film

Glock 34 (TTI Combat Master Package): His go-to sidearm early on, customized by Taran Tactical Innovations (TTI); dual-wielded in the catacombs and against Gianna’s guards in Rome.
Heckler & Koch P30L (compensator-fitted): Opens the film disarming a henchman; buried post-use along with first-film gear.
Kimber Super Carry Custom (reverse two-tone, compensator): Provided by the Bowery King and used chasing Santino.
TTI TR-1 Ultralight (AR-15 carbine build): Iconic Rome rifle from the sommelier, with BCM mods, Trijicon scope, and PRI compensator; catacombs massacre shootout.
Benelli M4 Super 90 (TTI customized): Sommelier special in Rome; shredded through catacombs enemies.

John Wick Franchise (spinoffs)

John Wick

Miniseries Review: The Corner (dir by Charles S. Dutton)

Posted on January 26, 2026 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Actor T.K. Carter died on January 9th. He was 69 years old and his passing really didn’t get the notice that he deserved.

T.K. Carter may not have been a household name but I imagine that most people would recognize him if they saw him. He appeared on a lot of television shows. He did his share of movies. He was usually cast in comedic roles, often playing the best friend who would inevitably provide some sort of gentle commentary on the problems of his friends or coworkers. I just recently finished reviewing Good Morning, Miss Bliss, which featured Carter as Milo. I’m not really sure what Milo did at John F. Kennedy Junior High but he was certainly more likable than Miss Bliss.

Carter appeared in some films as well. Ironically, his two best-known films were not comedic at all. He plays Nauls in John Carpenter’s The Thing, a film that pretty much ends with Kurt Russell and Keith David freezing to death while wondering whether or not one of them is actually a killer alien. And he also played Cribbs, a pot-smoking member of the National Guard who finds himself lost in the Louisiana bayou in Walter Hill’s Southern Comfort. I have to admit that, after having watched both of those films more than once, it was a bit strange to see Carter exchanging jokes with Hayley Mills and Dennis Haskins on Good Morning Miss Bliss.

That said, if I had to pick Carter’s best performance, I would probably go with his work in the 2000 HBO miniseries, The Corner. Based on a nonfiction book by David Simon, The Corner follows several characters over the course of one year in Baltimore. Almost all of the characters are involved in the drug trade in some way or another. DeAndre McCullough (Sean Nelson) is a fifteen year-old drug dealer who, despite his obvious intelligence, seems to be destined to become yet another statistic. DeAndre’s parents are Fran (Khandi Alexander) and Gary (T.K. Carter). At the start of the miniseries, both Fran and Gary are drug addicts and both of them make the effort to get clean. Both have moments where their lives appear to be improving. They both have moments where they relapse and have to start all over again. Tragedy follows both of them.

The Corner is often described as being a forerunner to The Wire and indeed, there are definite similarities. Like The Wire, The Corner was shot on location in Baltimore. Like The Wire, The Corner emphasizes that futility of trying to wage a war on drugs. As well, several members of The Corner‘s cast also appeared on The Wire. Clarke Peters, Lance Reddick, Reg E. Cathey, Corey Parker Robinson, Delaney Williams, and Robert F. Chew are among the many Wire actors who appear in The Corner. Interestingly enough, many of The Wire‘s cops and politicians appear as addicts in The Corner. Clarke Peters and Reg E. Cathey play two long-time drug addicts who serve as a bit of a chorus for the neighborhood. Lane Reddick appears as a recovering addict who tries to take advantage of Fran.

That said, The Corner doesn’t trust its audience in the same way that The Wire did. That’s largely because The Corner was directed by Charles S. Dutton, who has never been a particularly subtle actor or director. Dutton does a good job capturing the grit of Baltimore but he also includes “interviews” with various characters in which he asks questions while off-camera. It feels a bit too on-the-nose, as if each episode of The Wire opened with a dramatic monologue from McNulty or Stringer Bell. We don’t need the characters to look straight at the camera and tell us that things are bad. We can see that for ourselves.

The entire cast does a good job but the best performance undoubtedly comes from T.K. Carter, who plays Gary as being an intelligent man, a good man, a hopeful man, but also a man who cannot escape his addiction. With his gentle smile, his pleading eyes, and the almost shy way that he asks people to help him when he needs a fix, Carter gives a heart-breaking performance and one that shows that Gary truly is a prisoner of his addiction. He doesn’t want to be an addict. He wants to get clean. But he also lives in a world where drugs are not only everywhere but they’re also the only escape that he and so many other people have from their oppressive existence. With the government and the police treating the drug crisis as a war as opposed to a public health emergency, Gary’s two options really are either prison or the basement of his mother’s home. The police view Gary as being nothing more than an criminal as opposed to someone with a sickness. The dealers, meanwhile, view Gary as being a marketing opportunity. T.K. Carter captures both Gary’s desperation and his sadness. It’s a great performance and one that deserves to be remembered. As played by T.K. Carter, Gary is the battered heart of The Corner.

T.K. Carter, RIP.

Film Review: From the World of John Wick: Ballerina (dir. by Len Wiseman)

Posted on June 5, 2025 by Leonard Wilson

It seems almost inevitable that Ana de Armas would make it into the John Wick franchise. Having worked with Keanu Reeves in multiple films since 2015’s Knock Knock, she has great chemistry with him on camera. De Armas has also proven she can handle action both with 2021’s No Time to Die and 2023’s Ghosted, with the latter also boasting a bit of comedy. From the World of John Wick: Ballerina (or just Ballerina for the sake of this writing) puts Ana in the mix of all the madness as Eve Maccaro. While it doesn’t have the tightest story in the world when compared to the rest of the John Wick saga, Ballerina does hold its own at least as a showcase for the stunt work. If you enjoyed Atomic Blonde or any of the Underworld films, you really won’t have any problems here.

The story for Ballerina takes place during the events of John Wick 3 – Parabellum. As a child, when Eve loses her father to a crew of armed men sporting a brand on their wrists, she is taken in by The Continental’s Winston (Ian McShane). Winston introduces her to the tribe of killers known as the Ruska Roma, lead by The Director (Anjelica Houston), who train her to become like them. Those familiar with the John Wick franchise will recall that the Ruska Roma was John’s tribe before some action caused a split between him and them.

In addition to her pointe practices (which look painful), she’s trained with knives, guns and other tactics. Unlike the assassins that normally frequent The Continental, the Ruska Roma aren’t fully ruthless and can be a force of good. After handling various tests, she discovers a clue leading to the people who killed her father and the man who leads them (ironically played by Point of No Return’s’ Gabriel Byrne, given the film moves in similar circles). Can Eve get her vengeance in the shadow of the legendary Baba Yaga?

While Eve’s story is a still a tale of vengeance as much as Wick’s, there are two distinct differences. As taught by her trainer Nogi (Sharon Duncan Brewster, Dune: Part One), being a girl has some merits and flaws. She might not have the strength to go toe to toe with some of her male opponents (and try telling Ana this, she throws herself deep into the stuntwork), she can move for weakpoints and cheat her way though to victory. “Fight like a girl” becomes the motto. The other difference is that Eve has to work within both the rules of the Ballerinas as well as those the High Table puts on their Hotels. I thought that was an interesting touch to things.

With those stunts, I really would like to know if Ana or any of the stunt team were hurt in any way making this film. Eve goes through a lot and doesn’t have that protective Armani suit of Wick’s. Into walls, over dressers, through glass and even fire, but she keeps getting up and giving that damage right back to her targets. I hope this becomes a contender for the Academy’s new award for stunts. It’s an easy lock for a Nomination.

Casting-wise, you’ll see some familiar faces. Winston and Charon (the late Lance Reddick) are both on hand, as well as stuntman/actor Daniel Bernhardt (The Matrix Reloaded, Nobody, that awesome “ronny/lily’ episode of HBO’s Barry). Some new faces include Norman Reedus (The Walking Dead) and Anne Parillaud (Innocent Blood, La Femme Nikita).

Len Wiseman hasn’t directed a feature film since 2012’s Total Recall, but watching Ballerina you really couldn’t tell. Some of the locales do look like they were borrowed from Wiseman’s Underworld films, but that actually works in Ballerina‘s favor. The film flows well from scene to scene and the action is visible enough that there’s little to miss. There are very few lulls in the action. Though the film was written by both Derek Kolstad and Shay Hatten, who both previously worked on pretty much the entire Wick Franchise along with Nobody, it’s a different flavor to things. You won’t any any major info on the High Table and how all that works, though. This more of a contained story that flutters through the rest of the universe.

I only had one major problem with Ballerina, which was the way in which they chose to cameo Keanu Reeves as John Wick. Unless I’m wrong, I think the story makes a mistake in the John Wick timeline at some point by bringing Wick and Eve face to face (and the trailers already alluded to this). Their meeting appears to occur after Wick’s branding and ex-communication from the Ruska Roma (“You can never come back.”, she told him in John Wick 3), so the events leading up to the meeting didn’t entirely make sense to me (though it was wonderful to watch). It doesn’t mar the film, it’s still enjoyable. It’s just that tiny question that digs in the back of your skull like “If Old Biff gave young Biff the Almanac, and Young Biff changed the future, how did Old Biff exist long enough to return the DeLorean back to a 2015 timeline that shouldn’t exist anymore?” – a question I still ask every now and then.

Overall, Ballerina is a pretty good addition to the John Wick franchise. Ana de Armas gives it her all and deserves all the kudos for that work she puts in. Here’s hoping that we get a bit more of her action (and of that universe) down the road.

Ana de Armas visits the Continental in the Ballerina Trailer!

Posted on September 26, 2024 by Leonard Wilson

It seems rather fitting to see Ana de Armas taking the lead in a story within John Wick’s universe. After all, she’s has a knack for action with films like No Time to Die and Ghosted, and she’s worked with Keanu Reeves in both Knock Knock and Exposed. The real question with Ballerina is whether audiences will want to see a John Wick-like film with a female lead. I can already imagine the incel crowd chirping about how John Wick is now tainted with the touch of – (Ick!! Dare I say it….) – Women. That same crowd may also have forgotten about Adrianne Palicki’s assassin in the first film, and Halle Berry’s character with her dogs in the third. Female Assassins are as old at the Kunoichi. Perhaps even far older than that. There are so many tales to be told, especially in this universe.

I’m excited to see how this turns out. With a look that mirrors Le Femme Nikita and Point of No Return, de Armas’ Eve looks to be just as dangerous as her predecessor, possibly as one of the Ballerina assassins referenced in John Wick 3. The trailer has the feel of the other movies, but we’ll have to wait and find out when it releases. Len Wiseman has the directing duties on this one. It’s been a while since he made a movie, but I did enjoy the style of 2012’s Total Recall. Hopefully, he’ll do good here.

The only thing that I find odd is the name – audiences all know it has to do with John Wick. Does it have to have that whole “From the World of John Wick” in the title? I’m pretty sure your average movie viewer will put things together once they see the Continental, Winston (Ian McShane) or Charon (Lance Reddick, in one of his final roles). Also on hand are Norman Reedus (The Bikeriders) and of course, Keanu Reeves, which could just be a cameo.

From the World of John Wick: Ballerina will be in cinemas in 2025.

The Films of 2024: Shirley (dir by John Ridley)

Posted on May 1, 2024 by Lisa Marie Bowman

In 1972, a New York Congressperson named Shirley Chisholm made history when, in January of that year, she announced that she would be a candidate for the Democrat presidential nomination. Chisholm, who had already made history when she became the first Black woman to be elected to Congress, was also the first Black woman to run for a major party’s presidential nomination.

(For the record, U.S. Senator Margaret Chase Smith of Maine and the Rev. Channing Phillips were, respectively, the first woman and the first Black to run for a major party’s presidential nomination. Smith lost the Republican nomination to Barry Goldwater in 1964. In 1968, Phillips was the first Black to have his name officially put into nomination at a major party political convention.)

Of course, Chisholm did not win in 1972. She was one of many liberal candidates who declared that they were running as an alternative to the presumed front runner, U.S. Sen. Edmund Muskie. When Muskie’s campaign stalled in New Hampshire, it was George McGovern (and not Shirley Chisolm, John Lindsay, Eugene McCarthy, or Fred Harris) who benefitted. For the most part, the media viewed Chisholm as being a protest candidate, one who had a small but loyal activist base but which couldn’t compete with candidates like McGovern and Hubert Humphrey. Still, Chisholm went into the convention with a handful of delegates and, with McGovern not having enough pledged delegates to win outright, it was expected that Shirley Chisholm would at least be able to get some concessions from him in return for her support.

Political conventions being what they are, things didn’t work out that way. Due to several backroom deals, George McGovern was able to secure the nomination during the first round of voting. McGovern went on to suffer a landslide defeat and for years, his general election campaign would be held up as an example of how not to run for President. Chisholm returned to the U.S. Congress, where she served for another ten years.

Featuring Regina King in the title role, Shirley is a dramatization of that primary campaign. In many ways, it’s a typical Netflix docudrama. It’s well-made and it’s tasteful and occasionally, it’s a little bit boring. Political junkies will enjoy it, particularly if they’ve studied the 1972 presidential election. My inner history nerd was thrilled as largely forgotten historical figures were casually mentioned in the dialogue. Who would have guessed that a film released in 2024 would have featured characters talking about the presidential campaigns of Sam Yorty, John Lindsay, and Walter Fauntroy? Sadly, no mention is made of Patsy Mink. While Shirley Chisholm was making history as the first Black woman to run for president, U.S. Rep. Patsy T. Mink of Hawaii was doing the same as the first Asian-American woman to run.

It’s an uneven film, one that takes it time getting started. Filmmaker John Ridley is a better writer than director. Some of the scenes, like the ones of Chisholm mentoring a young Barbara Lee (Christina Jackson), felt a bit too much on the nose. (That said, Barbara Lee did start her career as a volunteer with the Chisholm campaign and, while in Congress, she regularly cited Chisholm as an inspiration.) But then there were other scenes that worked wonderfully, like Chisholm visiting segregationist George Wallace (W. Earl Brown) after Wallace had been shot. The film is at its best when it reaches the Democrat Convention and Chisholm goes from being elated to disappointed as one of her strongest allies goes from supporting her to announcing that it’s time for all the black delegates to line up behind McGovern. Regina King’s performance, especially towards the end of the film, captures both Shirley Chisholm’s strength and her vulnerability. It’s not always easy being a trailblazer.

Finally, if you want to learn more about Shirley Chisholm’s 1972 presidential campaign, I suggest the 2005 documentary, Shirley Chisholm ’72: Unbought and Unbossed.

Film Review: The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial (dir by William Friedkin)

Posted on November 1, 2023 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial is a film that I wanted to like more than I actually did.

The movie, which is based on a play by Herman Wouk (which was itself based on a novel by Wouk that was adapted into an Oscar-nominated film in 1954), takes place in a Naval courtroom. Lt. Steven Maryk (Jake Lacey) is on trial, accused of mutiny against his commanding officer. Maryk claims that, when the ship sailed into a storm, his commanding officer, Philip Francis Queeg (Kiefer Sutherland), was giving orderss that put the entire ship at risk. With the support of the officers, Maryk relieved Queeg of command. Maryk claims that he did so with the knowledge that it would lead to him being court-martialed.

Maryk is assigned Lt. Greenwald (Jason Clarke) as his defense counsel. Greenwald is not happy with his assignment because he think that Maryk is guilty and he believes in the chain of command. When Maryk and his fellow officers claim that Queeg was showing signs of mental instability, Greenwald wonders how they came to that conclusion. Whereas Maryk and his fellow officers, including Keith (Tom Riley) and Keefer (Lewis Pullman), claim that Queeg was dangerously unstable, Greenwald sees an insecure commander who was abandoned by his men. Greenwald comes to realize that keeping Maryk out of the brig will mean destroying Queeg on the stand.

As I said, I wanted to like this film more than I actually did. The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial was the final film to be directed by William Friedkin. Friedkin started his career by directing adaptations of plays like The Birthday Party and The Boys In The Band, so another theatrical adaptation does feel like an appropriate bookend for a legendary career. Friedkin’s best films featured troubled and somewhat obsessive individuals, people who are almost addicted to taking risks. That’s certainly an accurate description of several of the characters in The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial, from Queeg to Keefer to even Greenwald himself. After Friedkin passed away in August, I found myself really hoping that The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial would be one final brilliant Friedkin film.

There’s a lot of good things to be said about The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial, including the fact that Jason Clarke is well-cast as Lt. Greenwald. But, in the end, The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial is essentially a filmed play and, despite a camera that moves frequently, it all feels rather stagey and, at a time, a bit too theatrical. As good as Clarke is, some other members of the cast can’t break free of the film’s staginess and their performances often feel disappointingly superficial. This is especially true of Monica Raymund as the prosecutor and, surprisingly, Kiefer Sutherland as Queeg. Sutherland, who, when he was younger, would have been the ideal pick for the role of Lt. Keefer, gives an overly mannered performance as Queeg, one that is all tics and nerves but with little of the vulnerability that Humphrey Bogart brought to the role in the 1954 film.

Friedkin’s The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial takes place in 2022, as opposed to the World War II setting of Wouk’s original novel. This does lead to an interesting subtext, as Friedkin’s version of the story is set during a time when many people are no longer confident in America’s military leadership. (Wouk’s novel and play came out while America was still feeling confident after the victory of the Allies in World War II.) Friedkin takes a direct approach to the material, allowing the audience to decide for themselves whether Maryk did the right thing.

It’s a solid enough film but one that never quite escapes its stage origins. Friedkin’s respect for the material comes through, even if the film isn’t totally successful.

Film Review: John Wick: Chapter Four (dir by Chad Stahelski)

Posted on August 8, 2023 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Yesterday, I finally watched the hit film of March 2023, John Wick: Chapter Four. It left me overwhelmed and I mean that in the best possible way.

The film picks up where the last film left off. John Wick (Keanu Reeves), the dog-loving, formerly retired professional hit man, is still traveling the world and killing the leaders of the High Table. As becomes apparent from the start of the film, it’s a bit of a fool’s errand as killing one leader only leads to another leader being installed. When John travels to Morocco to kill the leader known as “The Elder,” he discovers that the Elder he knew is gone and has been replaced with a new Elder. He still kills the new Elder because that’s what John Wick does. He kills people. He’s a literal killing machine, one who audiences like because he loves dogs, is still mourning for his dead wife, and he’s played by Keanu Reeves. On paper, the relentless and ruthless character of John Wick is horrifying. But, when he’s played by Keanu Reeves, he becomes the killing machine that audiences can’t help but love.

The arrogant and brilliantly named Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont (Bill Skarsgard, giving a wonderfully hissable performance) is currently in charge of the efforts to track down and kill John. The Marquis establishes himself as being evil by not only killing Charon (Lance Reddick) but also blowing up the Continental. Upset by the murder of Charon and the destruction of his business, Winston (Ian McShane, playing his role with the perfect amount of wounded dignity) tells John that he can end his entire war with the High Table by challenging the Marquis to a duel. Unfortunately, to do that, John has to convince another criminal organization to sponsor him and just about criminal organization on the planet wants John did. To make things even more difficult, the Marquis has brought the blind assassin, Caine (the incredible Donnie Yen), out of retirement to track down John. Caine and John are old friends but Caine knows that his daughter will be killed unless he kills John.

Clocking in at 169 minutes, John Wick: Chapter Four is a big, flamboyant, and at times overwhelming production. John Wick travels across the world and every country in which he finds himself is home to someone who wants him dead. And since everyone that John Wick knows seems to have a unlimited supply of guards and henchmen, the fights are nonstop and the violence is over the top but the film is so energetic and cheerfully excessive that it’s never boring. Each fight scene feels like it could be a separate film on its own, with each member of the cast getting a chance to show off what they can do. The water-filled fight in a Berlin night club is the film’s best moment but it’s closely followed by an extended combat sequence that’s set in a hotel in Japan. With its vivid cinematography and ornate production design and its spectacular stunts, John Wick Chapter 4 is a work of pure cinema, an thrill ride of glorious excess. Along with providing an ending to John Wick’s story, it also pays tribute to everything that audiences love about action cinema. It’s a film for people who love action and, even more importantly, it’s film that has as much love for its audience as it does for itself.

The film ends on a note of apparent finality, one that becomes more ambiguous the more that one examines it. This may be the last chapter of John Wick’s story or it may not. (Considering the film’s box office and critical success, I suspect that it will not be the last.) John Wick Chapter Four serves as a fitting (if perhaps temporary) end to the saga and also a tribute to both the action aesthetic and Keanu Reeves’s innate likability.