John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum

John Wick: Chapter 2 left our titular hero at odds with the world around him, surrounded by hordes of fellow assassins ready to pounce on him for the $14 million bounty placed on his head after he killed his aggravator, Santino D'Antonio, on the grounds of the safe-haven known as The Continental Hotel; a maximum no-no for members of the headhunting organization around which the story revolves. This presents an interesting—if sometimes frustrating—conflict for him that Chapter 3 seems to have trouble finding an answer to.

Whereas the first two entries saw John exacting a righteous vengeance against oppressors for wronging him, Chapter 3 essentially pits John against a problem that is, for all intents and purposes, his own fault. At the end of Chapter 2, John's mentor and the owner of the Continental, Winston (played once again with velvety smugness by Ian McShane), attempted to convince John not to make the mistake of killing within the walls of the hotel. John chose to ignore Winston's warnings, and as a consequence, he is now "excommunicado"—an in-universe term for being banned from all services and benefits of the unnamed international assassin's guild. To top it all off, he now has the bounty to end all bounties on his head, and every other assassin in the world wants a piece.

This choice to essentially put the responsibility for John's unfavorable circumstances in his own hands is a subversive but ultimately confusing one. We rooted for John this far because some privileged assholes killed his puppy; and not "just a puppy," as John is careful to point out to his detractors—that puppy was the final gift from his late wife, an attempt to give John something to love after the one thing he loved had been taken from him. It's a simple but undeniably endearing device that has more than pulled its weight in rationalizing John's continued bloodshed. The world that John left behind before the events of the first film has repeatedly returned to take and take from him, and he's sick of it. I get it. But now, John has broken a time-honored rule and knew he was doing so when he did it.

So now, John's only goal is to beat the inevitable consequences of his own actions, or more simply, to survive—a justification which the movie attempts to elevate through a pseudo-philosophical line of questioning during the second act of Chapter 3, but ultimately lacks the same visceral emotional weight of John's previous burning revenge mission. And that lack of weight is felt throughout the second and third acts of Chapter 3, especially as the fights get longer and more grandiose, and the plot thinner and more tacked-on. What we are left with is a story with very little emotional through-line that serves more overtly as a vehicle to get Keanu Reeves from one amazing action sequence to another. And they are undeniably amazing, but it's hard not to miss the palpable rage felt throughout the first and even the second film.

If you can accept that this series has seemingly redefined its purpose—shifting gears from a simple, cathartic story of death and righteous fury to a popcorny show-reel of gorgeous fight choreography and production design—there is an abundance of glorious filmmaking still to chew on. Chapter 3 delivers everything else the first two had to offer, this time on an unprecedented scale. The film's opening features some of the series' most clever and hard-hitting action yet; these sequences include the most glorious knife fight ever put to screen, and a kill with a book that will leave you craving a neck massage.

The film plays like a demonstration of Reeves' willingness as an action star; each complex setpiece induces imagined conversations between director Chad Stahelski and Reeves: "Okay, Keanu, in this shot, I want you to hang off the side of your horse and fire your gun under its neck at this guy on a motorcycle. And then, in the next scene, we're going to throw you through, like, eight panes of glass."

It's hardly news anymore that Reeves has done essentially every stunt and fight scene (at least every one that insurance will allow), but it's never more impressive than it is here in Chapter 3. As if they weren't already incredibly complex pieces of choreography, the fights in this film are also astonishingly long. And Reeves ain't getting any younger. The amount of martial arts, stunt, and weapons training the man has done is more apparent on-screen than ever, and his costars deserve boundless praise as well. It's like Cirque du Soleil with guns, swords, and suplexes; an organism all its own, brought to life by perfect collaboration and painstaking performance of choreographers, cinematographers, actors, and stuntpeople.

Can we also talk about how much better this series looks with every entry? The first film is still my favorite, but its heavy blue color-grading can be abrasive and unappealing to look at. Cinematographer Dan Laustsen (whose credits include Chapter 2 as well as The Shape of Water and Crimson Peak) reinvented the look of the series over these last two movies. The breadth of the color palette in this film is stunning, and the contrast of inky-black night with bright white and multicolored lighting creates a symphony of color for us to enjoy while watching Reeves absolutely destroy people. I can't tell whether its Laustsen or Stahelski who has an obsession with reflections and mirrors, but it's pure, exhausting bliss to look at.

Exhausting is a good word for this film; in good ways and bad. With the vengeful spirit of the first two films missing, the endless onslaught of bone-crunching action and verbose world-building can get tiresome. Don't get me wrong, it's all good. I love the world within the John Wick films (even when it doesn't make sense), and the physical action in these movies is pretty much unparalleled, at least in Hollywood. All three of these movies more than earn their length and ticket price with those two elements alone. But by the final fight (or was it three fights?) my ears were ringing from the gunfire, my eyes burning from the bright lights, and my jaw aching from all the clenching I was doing. I was no less impressed for it, but I can't help but think that some parts along the way—whether it be the superficial plot, the globe-trotting exploration of John's world, or the insanely long fights—could have been pared down to create a tighter and less laborious viewing experience.

I mean, do we keep going bigger from here? What's next; a feature-length fight sequence? I don't know. According to Stahelski, Chapter 4 is already in the works. Perhaps we can make a subversive course-correction back toward the raw emotion of the first film, even if it's at the expense of even grander action...

... aaahh, who am I kidding? I'm the only person asking for more sentiment in my John Wick movies. Bring on the bullets, I guess.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSXc5z9F7Do&w=585