<em>Ballerina</em> Ruins John Wick's Bulletproof Mystique

Last October, a friend convinced me to download Fortnite. After dragging my feet for weeks—the thought of playing with and against anyone too young for a driver's license gives me hives—I caved. On my first night in the game, John Wick showed up in Fortnite's shop of rotating cosmetics. Turns out, Fortnite officially collaborated with the John Wick franchise to present a playable character that has the Point Break star's striking likeness. Anyone with $20 to burn could make their in-game avatar look like Keanu Reeves's vengeful antihero. And burned $20 I did. Because pissing off middle schoolers with the face of John Wick was worth every penny, failing economy be damned.

Fortnite, if you're unfamiliar, is a violent battle royal video game where players scavenge for weapons—guns, primarily—and kill each other until only one remains. It's an experience that rewards selfish survival, accomplished via pinpoint aim and luck. It's also a lucrative opportunity for branded collaboration. John Wick makes sense for Fortnite. But Lady Gaga, Superman, and Eleven from Stranger Things? Maybe less so.

But a funny thing happened on my way to victory royale: I realized John Wick is out of place, too. Never mind the guns and one-versus-all gameplay, all of which feel tailor-made for Wick. Looking through you sniper scopes and seeing your target is a muscular cat or a dude in a banana costume while you are John Wick is a jarring experience, hilarious as it may be. Mr. Wick is the square peg in the round hole that is Fortnite's memescape, if you will. I relished my time as John Wick, but the cartoonish environments made me stick out more than the man's blacked-out tailoring.

In short: An experience that feels right for John Wick doesn't mean that it is right for John Wick. Few places can welcome Mr. John Wick so easily, and that includes his own spin-offs. Yes, I'm talking about Ballerina, officially titled From the World of John Wick: Ballerina. It's the latest movie in the John Wick franchise and its first theatrical spin-off. (The less said about The Continental on Peacock, the better.) Taking over Reeves's spot on the posters is Ana de Armas as Eve, a fresh-faced graduate of the Ruska Roma, the underworld mob of assassins who both operate a ballet company as a front, and raised and trained John Wick. While on her own road to revenge, Eve is eventually pitted against Wick, who is basically on a side quest during John Wick: Chapter 3. For Ballerina, Reeves reprises his sharp-dressed killer in a part that lands awkwardly between gratuitous cameo and supporting lead.

Ballerina is a perfectly imperfect action movie. It's a franchise spin-off that exists in the shadow of its older sibling and just barely upholds the crushing weight of expectations. Ana de Armas doesn't exactly prove to be our generation's action heroine—that title still belongs to Charlize Theron—but she kicks plenty of butt, and she's never boring. Anybody itching for more John Wick (especially after his death in Chapter 4) will find their hunger pangs satisfied. But ironically, John Wick is Ballerina's Achilles' heel, and his sleepy cameo is a symptom to an even larger ailment: Our heroes just aren't special anymore.

It's hard to remember in hindsight, but John Wick was a cultural sensation. During its release in October 2014, it was a surprise mega-hit that revitalized Reeves's career to rewrite the language of big-screen action for the next decade at least. While its tactical fight choreography had audiences buzzing, its popularity cemented John Wick, the character, as an era-defining figure. Not since Clint Eastwood has there been an onscreen protagonist who radiates mystique and keeps it that way even through many installments bearing his name. John Wick had the goods from the moment some dumbass mobsters cracked his dog's neck.

It's been nothing short of a miracle how the four John Wick films have maintained its protagonist's appeal. Of course, dilution through lesser sequels is a fate suffered by many of John Wick's predecessors, from Rambo to McClane. (Perhaps the continuity of authorship has been key; ex-Reeves stuntman Chad Stahelski has thus far directed all of the series' main movies.) It matters is that each Reeves-led effort has maintained is exceptional standard in an era of Hollywood's obvious desperation for stability. No one expected John Wick to be a franchise. That's why its transformation into one has felt more natural than any failed would-be cinematic universe.

But Ballerina is the first time John Wick doesn't seem bulletproof. Watch Ballerina and it's painfully obvious where and when it pivots to be "more like" its sibling franchise. The isolation of de Armas and Reeves in a snow-frosted graveyard comes out of nowhere—a left turn on a track that had only been swerving right the entire time. There's nothing wrong about the scene itself, but simply adding more John Wick to artificially sell a standalone movie is a maddening IP play from a franchise that's gone to great lengths to seem better than that.

Keanu Reeves plays a supporting role in Ballerina, with his John Wick pitted against Ana de Armas’s Eve.

I know the movie business is harder now than ever. Too many modern moviegoers demand assurance that the thing they've paid money for has the scent of familiarity. But if we actually care about the integrity of stories and the power of characters, someone would have stopped and said: Now hold up, John Wick is dead. His words of advice to get the hell out of the Ruska Roma would have, and should have, been enough. Instead, we're treated to more John Wick. Unfortunately, just like his predecessors, more is less.

I don't know if John Wick should stand on a pedestal. Nothing ought to be so sacred—not even fictional movie characters. But isn't it goddamn annoying? Isn't it silly when graves are desecrated, and finality means nothing? In 2008, I wept when wrestling legend Ric Flair was kicked in the face by Shawn Michaels to end his career. When Flair turned up in 2022 for another event billed as his "final match," I only rolled my eyes. In 2017, I felt the gravity of Hugh Jackman leaving the X-Men behind in the masterpiece that was Logan. In 2024, I sat stone-faced during Deadpool & Wolverine.

We have worse problems as a society, but a refusal to accept the end is nigh is one of them. As of this writing, a fifth John Wick film is on the (high) table, but even Keanu Reeves hasn't been clued into what it's about. The arrogance of green-lighting a film without knowing the story is how we reached this sorry state of popular cinema in the first place. This is how beloved characters become plastic action figures. Or, even worse: skins in a video game.