John Wick

Most action thrillers have a story with episodes of violence  interspersed. John Wick reverses the ratio in being largely choreographed violence held together by a rudimentary story line.

Keanu Reeves plays the titular hero, a retired underworld enforcer whose life of well-heeled normality is shattered when his beautiful wife dies. Then, in what can only count as an extraordinary coincidence his 1969 Mustang is stolen by the worthless son (Alfie Allen) of his former boss, a Russian gangster (Michael Nyqvist).  Not only that but the cretinous scumbag kills the puppy that Wick’s wife left him as a memento of her love.  So Wick goes after the son and anyone who gets in his way.

Directed by veteran stunt men David Leitch and Chad Stahelski (who was often Reeves' stunt double) John Wick is a kinetic mix of gun play and underworld  gravitas that barely pauses to take a breath as the unstoppable Wick wastes faceless goons at a remarkable rate. This is in itself quite well done in a generic sort of a way. The trouble is that although writer Derek Kolstad cleverly enough references video game violence as its poor relative it is not clever enough to inject any humanity into the screenplay. Compared to it, Antoine Fuqua‘s revenge thriller The Equalizer, which came out the same year, is a model of dramaturgical depth.

Nyqvist is effective as the super-cool villain and Reeves likewise as the super-cool hero but the rest of the players (including Willem Dafoe who picks up a cheque for a dutiful appearance as a fellow assassin) have little to do but fulfill their allotted types and unless your idea of a good movie amounts to counting the number of righteous kills the hero clocks up you’ll be struggling to find much to sustain your attention. The best that can be said of it is that it doesn't overstay its welcome.

 

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