John Wick begins with a cool montage that almost apes
the “sad Keanu”meme.
Our leading man, John Wick (who is almost always referred to by his full name –
and why not, when it’s that cool?) is mourning the loss of his spouse in a
modern suburban home that looks primed for a photo shoot in Dwell magazine. Before succumbing to
disease, his wife organized the delivery of a puppy (cinema’s most adorable pet
since almighty Uggie)
to give him something to love as he tries to heal. When John Wick later runs
afoul of some Russian gangsters who want to take his car, he tells them to buzz
off in their native tongue. The thugs (led by Game of Thrones’ Alfie Allen) invade his
home late at night, give him a beat down, steal his wheels and kill the pooch.
One phone call later John Wick lets everyone know that the demon is out of the
bottle.
What Allen’s bratty-ass punk Iosef didn’t realize was
that John Wick used to be the top hit-man for his father Viggo (Michael
Nyqvist). John Wick had
effectively bought himself a right to a peaceful retirement through Herculean
levels of mob enforcement, and now that that quiet has been shattered by the
whimper of dead doggie, look out!
Veteran stuntmen and second unit directors Chad Stahelski and David Leitch, making their debut as feature directors, stage the action with a fierce clarity. John Wick kills his way through neon nightclubs, art deco-inspired hotel rooms and eerily lit churches. Unlike, say, the work of John Woo, there isn’t a reliance on slow-motion, which affords the blunt, direct to the head gun-fu – a “holy cow, did he just do that?” shock value. When you think you’ve seen John Wick twist in the most acrobatic way to blast the baddie sneaking up behind him, he’ll strike another pose that tops it.
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Of course, a movie about a relentless vengeance
machine can only go so far. John Wick ups its game by stopping in for the night
at a hotel for contract killers, opening a door into a criminal underworld that
in lesser hands would seem silly. (Like, for example, Frank Miller and Robert
Rodriguez’s recent Sin City: A
Dame To Kill For.) In the urban environment of John Wick, an entire
service industry of drivers, cleaners and bellman live by night and a code of
ethics that, naturally, can be bent for the right price. One of the best things
I can say about John Wick is that I’d really love to see more movies set in
this world, and they don’t necessarily have to star these characters. But
hopefully from the same directors, as their handle on this milieu feels
refreshing and new.
From the use of colour and music to the
scenery-chomping by supporting players Willem Dafoe and Ian
McShane, these are guys bursting with a love for genre cinema but aren’t too
enslaved by affection to let in a little air. There’s a wonderful free spirit
with the use of New York City locations that ditches verisimilitude for
storytelling. The Surrogates’ Courthouse downtown is actually a Bosch-ian dance
club with an interior of Scarface-esque hot tubs? Who in their right mind would
disagree!
So much recent action cinema feels the need to be
gritty, realistic and dark. John Wick is the fun alternative we’ve been waiting
for.