When JOHN WICK exploded onto the scene in 2014, it felt like an upstart garage rock act stripping a genre down to its elemental roots. Each piercing gunshot and visceral body blow mirrored the raw energy of a band thrashing away at power chords, resulting in 100 minutes of breathless, jangly mayhem that recaptured an action movie purity that had been missing from major studio filmmaking in America. Its simplicity also belied the subtle, complex mythology underlying an otherwise uncomplicated story about a former hitman avenging the dog his wife left behind to keep him company after her death. The following two chapters left no doubt in this respect by making it abundantly clear its title character wasn’t just battling the regular old mafia but rather a global network of assassins and gangsters with a rich sense of history and ritual that was fleshed out as John Wick took his pounds of flesh, turning this saga into a full-fledged rock opera in the process. The song may have remained the same, but the flourishes and grace notes became more pronounced with the introduction of each new outsized personality and each new embellishment of the lore.
And now we have CHAPTER 4, a movie that transcends whatever metaphor I have going on here. Honestly, there aren’t many words that can adequately capture or describe the audacity of a movie that dares to do this much. It’s no longer a boisterous punk tape or a symphonic rock opera — at this point, it might just be plain old opera, a melodramatic ballet of bullets, shattered bones, and broken hearts. Whatever you want to call it, it’s nothing short of epic — and I’m not talking about aughts internet slang “epic” either. At 169 minutes, JOHN WICK CHAPTER 4 is a genuine tome, with all that term implies: it’s the biggest, most outlandish, and most enthralling entry yet, one that proves that you can’t have too much of a good thing — so long as that good thing involves Keanu Reeves and an all-star cast bludgeoning each other for our amusement.
Picking up where its predecessor left off, CHAPTER 4 finds the excommunicated John Wick seeking vengeance against the High Table, a quest that runs him and former Continental manager Winston (Ian McShane) afoul of Marquis Vincent de Gramont (a perfectly contemptible Bill Skarsgård), a high-ranking member of the cabal. Looking to end this ordeal once and for all, the Marquis pulls Caine (Donnie Yen), a blind, retired assassin out of retirement to hunt down Wick, a man he once considered a friend. With willing allies in short supply, Wick travels the globe to force a confrontation with the Marquis and finally free himself from the High Table, which still has a network of hitmen looking to collect the ever-increasing bounty on his head.
There’s a natural concern when something that thrived on simple elegance balloons out to a nearly three-hour epic like this, but nothing has really changed here. The basic story thrust that’s powered the previous three films — John Wick has to kill a bunch of guys before they kill him — is very much intact. This time, there’s just a lot more of it, with each third of the film taking him to a different location to encounter a new set of allies and enemies. In Japan, he seeks help from Koji (Hiroyuki Sanada), manager of the Osaka continental; in Berlin, he reunites with the crime syndicate he once belonged to and must avenge his uncle’s death at the hands of a High Table senior (Scott Adkins); finally, he arrives in France to take down the Marquis on his own turf with a good-old-fashioned duel — but not before he has to fend off dozens of henchmen and assassins first. CHAPTER 4 is the maximalist version of JOHN WICK, a movie that takes the “less is more” mantra of the first film and finds that the opposite approach has its merits too.
Staging so much carnage (each layover in a new country feels like it could be an entire movie unto itself) without it growing dull and repetitive is among the most impressive achievements of this franchise so far. Just when you feel like you’ve had enough or that you’ve seen this JOHN WICK’s magnum opus, another show-stopping round of martial arts and gun-fu awaits, allowing the film to somehow top itself again and again. The Osaka showdown finds Wick and company battling henchmen among a flurry of extras in the first of many incredible displays of controlled chaos; it’s a battle that features a guy being impaled to a wall before Wick blows him away, and yet it somehow feels quaint compared to the breathlessly orchestrated Paris sequence that involves cars and motorcycles looping around the Arc de Triomphe, plus an imposing staircase as a DJ (call station: W.U.X.I.A) spins tunes and acts as a Greek Chorus, à la THE WARRIORS.
If you’re looking for one particular sequence during this climax that captures the film’s excess, look no further than an incredible long take that finds Wick mowing down a bunch of goons with a fire-spitting shotgun. As it escalates, cinematographer Dan Laustsen’s lens begins to hover in the air before settling on a bird’s eye view to track the carnage in one of the most inventive action sequences I’ve ever seen. When it ends, it allows you to catch your breath just long enough before the camera starts to creep up again, almost as if taking the stage for an encore.
That kind of showmanship is what this franchise has thrived on: at its heart, JOHN WICK has always invited the audience to delight in all of its cool shit, a notion that seems to have been lost on a lot of major action movie productions over the years. In an era where CGI can dream up an abundance of fantastic creatures and chaos, it’s nice to be reminded that real, practical spectacle will always reign supreme. Forget action movies — it’s one of the main reasons the entire cinematic art form became so popular: the jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring exploits of performers doing the impossible with their bodies through dancing, fighting, or physical comedy. It’s been no secret that Buster Keaton has been an influence on this franchise (look no further than the overt nod to the silent comedy master at the beginning of CHAPTER 2), and this entry only leans harder into that curve with the absurd nature of the pratfalls Wick endures, none of them more exhausting and funny than the climactic bit involving his ascent up the famous 222 steps leading to the Sacré Coeur for his final, spaghetti western showdown with the Marquis.
Old Hollywood musicals also loom large here, especially during the big fight in Berlin that unfolds in a nightclub full of cascading waterfalls and a throng of dancers. Despite the mayhem unfolding around them, most of the background extras keep dancing, an absurd sight that acknowledges that martial arts movies are nothing if not musicals. The dancing continues because it’s part of a delirious, thrilling routine. This has always been the brilliance of JOHN WICK, its ability to fluidly choreograph utter chaos because this is among the purest forms of cinema: bodies in space, woven together in the frame to inspire awe and wonder.
The big difference here — and indeed the reason CHAPTER 4 needs the extra 45 minutes — is that it pauses to breathe more than its predecessors. It’s not that it needs time to elaborate a more complicated plot — it just wants to luxuriate in a rich, textured world that’s grown more idiosyncratic with each new chapter. Further glimpses into this ritualized universe reveal high-stakes card games, highly-detailed rules of engagement, and even a ceremony where Wick and his adoptive sister (Natalia Tena) brand themselves with matching tattoos to consecrate his reentry into the tribe. Everyone stretches their legs here, including screenwriters Shay Hatten and Michael Finch, who have crafted some of the most memorable scene-chewing villains this side of JAMES BOND. They spout some of the franchise’s most lyrical dialogue, like when the Marquis insists John Wick is just a ghost looking for a graveyard, a line that perfectly captures this franchise’s weirdly poetic wavelength.
It’s these flourishes — which were once mostly suggested in the first film — that have come to be just as vital to this franchise as the bone-shattering carnage, and CHAPTER 4 spares no expense here. In addition to giving series regulars (McShane, Laurence Fishburne, and Lance Reddick) their due, it boasts arguably the most impressive cast to date, with Yen especially shining as Wick’s latest begrudging adversary. Caine would rather not be hunting down his old friend, but the Marquis is leveraging his daughter’s life to coerce him back into the fold, allowing him to oscillate between friend and foe throughout the film. While Yen hasn’t exactly been underappreciated in martial arts circles (his headlining appearances in the IP MAN series solidified his place in the pantheon, not that it was ever in doubt), it rules to see him on such a grand stage here, joining the likes of Tiger Chen, Mark Dacascos, Cecep Arif Rahman, Yayan Ruhian, and other martial arts luminaries to receive their flowers with this franchise. Yen has frequently brought an impish quality to the stoicism that so often defines martial arts movies, and he’s clearly relishing his role here, delivering dialogue with as much conviction as he delivers punches. Considering the franchise’s illustrious roster, it’s quite a feat that he’s the franchise’s most compelling supporting character, boasting a screen presence capable of taking on a starring role (you have to imagine he’s due to return in the expanded JOHN WICK universe that’s been in development).
Had CHAPTER 4 merely blessed us with Yen joining Reeves for a star-studded two-hander, it’d be incredible enough. But in true JOHN WICK fashion, it graciously delivers a murderer’s row of emerging and established talent. Shamier Anderson is a tracker who proves to be a constant thorn in the side of both Wick and the Marquis, a fly in the ointment whose canine companion (and, in keeping with franchise tradition, a very good boy) makes life miserable for anyone who dares to throw down with him. In her acting debut, international star Rina Sawayama plays the concierge and daughter of the Osaka Continental’s manager, and her brief but substantial turn here provides a wonderful glimpse into this new corner of the WICK universe. Then there’s the rogue’s gallery of character actors and martial artists: Clancy Brown (sporting a scar and insisting there can be only one as a High Table emissary), Marko Zaror (the Marquis’ comically indestructible henchman), and Scott Adkins, the patron saint of DTV American action movies, here donning a prosthetic body suit in homage to Sammo Hung during a bit that completely confirms that these guys know exactly what they’re up to.
But as much as the nod to Hung pays tribute to the wuxia genre that has obviously influenced JOHN WICK, Brown’s presence feels equally as vital in acknowledging another, equally important progenitor: HIGHLANDER, a movie that’s fondly remembered for its killer hook (what if a bunch of immortals did battle over the centuries?) but endured because of its aching sincerity. Like that franchise, JOHN WICK is patently absurd but never winks at it: beneath the bloodshed and the idiosyncrasies is a complete and utter conviction to it all. There are no quips undercutting or drawing attention to how silly it all is, nor is there any arch, ironic detachment: the deeper it dives into its bizarre lore, the more you’re enraptured by the sheer commitment to the bit. You don’t flinch when Wick and the Marquis sit down at a table to determine the rules of the climactic duel because nobody involved flinches, either. Don’t get me wrong: JOHN WICK is still cool as hell, but it’s also unashamedly dorky as hell. If it had been released a few decades ago, late-night programming on the Sci-Fi Channel or USA Network would have been peppered with infomercials advertising catalogs full of replica swords and emblems. It’s no coincidence that Stahleski has been involved in the long-gestating HIGHLANDER reboot, a project I’ve been dreading for decades because I’m not sure modern Hollywood gets HIGHLANDER. I do think Stahleski gets it, though, and I hope the studio trusts him to do his thing.
He’s more than earned it, and the valedictory nature of this fourth entry provides a stark reminder that we’ve come a long way. JOHN WICK was anything but a sure thing back in 2014, when Keanu Reeves may have been beloved (if you know anyone who doesn’t like him, don’t trust ’em) but no longer seemed like leading man material, at least according to the box office. The first film dispelled that notion in a big way, but, even more importantly, reminded us why he’s one of the greatest actors of his generation. For whatever reason, he’s historically been criticized for his supposed limited range, a take that underestimated how effortlessly and captivatingly cool he is. During the past decade, Stahelski has harnessed Reeves’ stoic but soulful presence to emotionally tether this weird, wild world. No matter how absurd the surrounding proceedings are, Reeves never blinks, maintaining a steadfast, lovelorn persona as he gets the shit knocked out of him, an increasingly rare thing in American action movie cinema — a star unafraid to look vulnerable as he cedes the spotlight to his co-stars. Something tells me he doesn’t have a contract that dictates how much he can get beat up, unlike some other jabronies.
Considering how much this franchise has escalated, it’d be easy to forget this all started with a grieving widower avenging his wife’s memory; however, Reeves never allows you to forget, and his laconic weariness is especially crucial in CHAPTER 4, which cannot emphasize enough how much this man just wants peace — whether it’s in life or a good death. Reeves embraces and embodies the franchise’s sincerity because he’s just as good at breaking bones as he is at breaking your heart. Despite the lengthy runtime, he may have fewer lines here than in any other movie, but the few conversations he has — like when he reveals what he wants on his tombstone or when he and Yen share a moment in a church — remind the audience that there’s always been more to this franchise than the action.
I don’t like to contribute to the hyperbolic nature of the discourse, which demands that every new release either be the best thing or the worst thing, but I feel confident in saying the JOHN WICK franchise has reached all-timer status. Frankly, it was already there after CHAPTER 3, a movie that left me wondering just how in the hell Stahelski and company could top themselves. They leave no doubt with CHAPTER 4, a victory lap where everyone involved is shooting their own pyrotechnics as they round the track. This is one of those generation-defining movies, one where we’ll all look back and feel grateful that we were lucky enough to witness it in theaters (and it goes without saying that you should see this on the biggest, loudest screen possible if you can). Rumors of the American action movie’s demise have always been greatly exaggerated (the DTV scene from the past two decades holds a lot of treasure for the devoted), but JOHN WICK (along with MAD MAX: FURY ROAD) has made that abundantly clear during the last decade, proving there’s still something to be said about a genre that finds beauty and grace in brutality when dedicated filmmakers are willing to look for it. Stahelski has done that and then some: he doesn’t just go the extra mile with JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 4 — he blazes off into the horizon, towards a blood-red sunset with hundreds of battered, bruised bodies trailing in his wake. Good luck to anyone who dares to catch up with him.
Tags: Bill Skarsgård, Bridget Moynahan, Chad Stahelski, Clancy Brown, Dan Laustsen, Derek Kolstad, donnie yen, George Georgiou, Hiroyuki Sanada, Ian McShane, Joel J. Richard, John Wick, keanu reeves, Lance Reddick, Laurence Fishburne, Lionsgate Films, Marko Zaror, Michael Finch, Natalia Tena, Nathan Orloff, Rina Sawayama, scott adkins, Shamier Anderson, Shay Hatten, Tyler Bates
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