John Wick: Chapter 4 (dir. Chad Stahelski, 2023) — Review

After four crisp, neon slaughterfests with our greasy-tressed protagonist, it’s hard to deny the unexpected impact that John Wick has had on the modern action genre. Despite its humble origins as a nice-guy vehicle for internet boyfriend Keanu Reeves, Wick has blossomed into a pop culture institution, with a cross-party appeal based on its gallows humour, slapstick pizzazz, and a somewhat emotionally stunted obsession with dogs.

Indeed, in a time of culture wars and casting beefs, it’s appropriate that the emotionally manipulative device of a murdered puppy has blossomed into a multi-billion dollar revenge saga. Combining deadpan wisecracks with its signature blend of gun-fu and jarringly fierce monologues from its traumatised yet fabulous protagonists, the Wick-verse has a touch of the magic formula that made franchises like Buffy or even Rick and Morty so successful.

To recap: after several instalments of push-pull between Wick and his camply evil crew of friends and enemies- folks who might be equally at home in WWE or Drag Race- Wick has been excommunicated from the sisterhood of the travelling hitmen, with a bounty on his head. Following turns from stars like Halle Berry, Willem Dafoe and John Leguizamo in earlier instalments, Chapter 4 breaks out the familiar A-list friends and family for maximum emotional heft. It’s largely the commitment of these august figures- most poignantly the late Lance Riddick, as the improbably African accented hitman concierge Charon- who tie together the hodgepodge of palatable massacres, emotional beats, and humour. They’re helped by the detail that contextualises decadent touches like the stylised use of subtitles, or the innately preposterous world these characters inhabit: the wisecracks around the premise of an organised society of assassins help, bizarrely, to build momentum. As Wick schleps off to whatever exotic clime, ready to dole out bloody punishment with the weary diligence of a dad at sports day, his willingness to engage in bits of gallows humour keeps us all on side. Big J’s readiness to turn anything into a weapon- whether a pencil, a horse, or even library books- rears its head again in time for Chapter 4.

With John Wick: Chapter 4, our hero finally gets to put the biblical grudge that, in his words, “killed his hope” in the first movie to rest. It’s a slightly grim realisation that in the near-decade that Wick has been around, the casual nature of its mass fatalities has drifted out of the realm of fiction. Nonetheless, this twinge is expertly flipped by the bigger question- won’t someone think of the puppies? Human bodies may drop like flies, but it’s the canine- or indeed equine- ones who enjoy the richest characterisation.

It’s a canny formula: a possible disregard for good taste or human decency in the franchise’s gleeful, bloody rampage through a Small World-style carnival of ethnic stereotypes is easily overshadowed by the likeability of its drivers. Aside from Reeves, who’s spun out an entire genre of ‘hot actor cuddling dog’ interview formats, the dogs provide emotional breathing room in a ludicrous setup. From Daisy the Beagle to the duo of murderous Malinois who proved compelling enough to return in a single, different role in Chapter 4, the creed of the animal lover supersedes any other in the film. Thus endeared to the audience, the notoriously ambiguous-looking Reeves can embark on a whistle-stop tour of cultures, from Catholic cathedrals to his character’s supposedly Romani roots, secure in the possession of a non-partisan moral high ground.

At nearly three hours, John Wick: Chapter 4 is a bit indulgent and pretentious, kicking off with Reeves on horseback chasing bad guys through the desert like a suited-and-booted Lawrence of Arabia. Alongside an endearing awareness of its own absurdity, the film revels in its heritage, like a less pretentious Tarantino movie: moreover, in its tributes to samurai epics and spaghetti westerns, Hong Kong action movies and Hollywood thrillers, it makes the effort to recruit legends of the genres alongside new blood, this time in pop star (slash LGBTQ icon Cambridge sociology grad) Rina Sawayama.

Betrayed and left for dead last time out, Reeves’ Wick begins film 4 adrift in a world where the High Table, the sinister global cabal of super-assassins, want him and his associates dead. Bad news for Wick, but worse for anyone who doesn’t respect the traditions of the past, among them the High Table’s new Marquis, a snivelling French nobleman (played by Bill Skarsgård).

Though Wick lacks the clear motivation after almost a decade in the role, even the famously ageless Reeves has started to look a little ragged around the edges; his palpable weariness, and perenially sweat-greased Lord Farquaad haircut, make us want to root for the guy to get an honourable way out especially, brilliantly complemented by Donnie Yen as a Zatoichi-esque blind assassin, the frenemy handy with a blade.

The dogs that played Sofia’s Malinois in John Wick: Chapter 3 return in Chapter 4 to play just one, whom we first meet trotting through the neon streets of Osaka. It’s the friend, fierce collaborator, and emotional support animal of Mr. Nobody, played by Shameir Anderson, a bounty hunter with a swag that would, notably, blend in seamlessly at a boygenius show in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Nobody is a cipher, playing both sides, both with and against John Wick, waiting for his bounty to bloat to a number that will allow him to retire to a villa in a Lake Como-ish locale. Overshadowing its assassin handler, a forgettable Nobody, the canine doles out punishment and more importantly, a blast of urine onto the head of a dead foe: a comical resolution to a tale that’s mixed vengeance and humour with lethal precision.