ACTION; 1hr 36min
STARRING: Keanu Reeves, Michael Nyqvist, Alfie Allen
Puppy love: Reeves
John Wick (Reeves) is odds-on the unluckiest man in New Jersey, losing his wife (Bridget Moynahan as Helen), his adorable beagle puppy and his 1969 Mustang in unfairly short order. He also cops a home invasion and a beating from the Russian thugs (presided over with debonair aplomb by Nyqvist’s Viggo; Allen is Viggo’s gormless son) who took care of the dog and the car.
For most men, this trifecta would be crippling. Hitman extraordinaire John Wick — retired, now back in business — is not only not most men, his dispassionate reflexes are superhuman. If director Chad Stahelski hadn’t introduced John and Helen in a wordless, tender sequence, you’d assume he was stone-cold. As in killer. As in Keanu, sculpted and sharp-suited in failsafe black, working the cut-thrust angles with obsidian gravity. Juiced by the beats of a pulsing soundtrack, Reeves at full bore is a beast unleashed. What does his hyper-stylised barbarity have to say about America’s gun-crazed culture? Absolutely nothing, and nor could it care less. Sometimes you’ve just gotta ride with the punches, especially when Mr Cool is dishing them out.
