Revenge is a dish best served in grand operatic style.
John Wick: Chapter 4 is a staggering example of how a franchise can grow from modest origins to an operatic crescendo without losing its essence. What began as a gritty, low-budget revenge thriller in 2014 – anchored by Keanu Reeves’ quietly magnetic performance and Chad Stahelski’s focused, visceral direction – has become one of the most ambitious action series of the modern era. With its fourth instalment, the franchise fully embraces its mythic scale, delivering a symphonic, near-three-hour spectacle that leaves an indelible mark on the action genre.
From its inception, John Wick built its world meticulously, threading intricate lore into its relentless action. The first film was a lean, self-contained story, but even then, the High Table, the Continental Hotel, and the unspoken codes of the assassin underworld hinted at a larger tapestry. Chapter 4 unfurls that tapestry to full width, plunging Wick – and the audience – into a dizzying array of locations, characters, and conflicts that feel both larger than life and meticulously grounded.
The evolution of the John Wick series feels inevitable yet astonishing. The first film’s genius lay in its simplicity: a man, a dog, and a thirst for vengeance. But that simplicity belied the franchise’s potential. As the sequels expanded the story, they retained the emotional core while embracing the operatic possibilities of the world Stahelski and his team had created. By Chapter 3: Parabellum, it was clear that Wick’s saga was no longer confined to the shadows of New York. Each film has escalated the stakes and scope, but none more so than Chapter 4. Here, Wick’s journey takes him to Osaka, Berlin, Paris, and beyond, with every setting rendered in stunning detail. The globetrotting isn’t just for show; each location is a stage for unique action set pieces that showcase the ingenuity of Stahelski’s direction.
The action in John Wick: Chapter 4 is a marvel of choreography, cinematography, and sheer audacity. Stahelski, himself a former stuntman, directs with the precision of a conductor leading a symphony. Every punch, kick, and gunshot is part of an intricately orchestrated ballet of violence. And while previous films set a high bar, Chapter 4 vaults over it with sequences that redefine what action cinema can achieve. Highlights include a breathtaking gunfight on the streets of Paris, choreographed to feel like a top-down video game, and a gruelling brawl on a staircase that feels almost Sisyphean in its brutality as well as duration. Yet, even in its most chaotic moments, the film never loses clarity. The camera moves fluidly, the geography of each scene is meticulously established, and the editing allows every hit to land with bone-crunching impact.
That said, Chapter 4 plays fast and loose with the laws of physics and human endurance in ways that often tiptoe the line between thrilling and absurd. The first film’s grounded approach to injuries and consequences has given way to an almost cartoonish disregard for bodily damage. The now-ubiquitous bulletproof suits, for instance, have evolved from clever sartorial gimmicks to borderline magical armour. Wick and his fellow assassins casually use their lapels to block bullets, often in the middle of intense firefights. It’s undeniably stylish, but it strains credulity when you consider the impact and blunt-force trauma those suits would realistically cause. Wick’s resilience in the face of such attacks veers into the realm of the supernatural, and the same can be said of his apparent immunity to vehicular trauma. The Paris sequence, in particular, sees him hit by cars with such frequency that one wonders if he’s auditioning for a road safety campaign. And yet, he brushes off each collision as though it were a mere inconvenience, carrying on with the kind of determination that defies not just logic but gravity itself.
This tonal shift is less a flaw than a reflection of the franchise’s mythologising. Wick is no longer just a man; he’s a legend, and the film treats him as such. While this approach allows for ever more ambitious action sequences, it does come at a cost. The stakes are dulled when injuries that should incapacitate or kill him barely slow him down. The audience cheers as Wick defies death again and again, but it’s hard not to miss the days when his victories felt hard-earned and his pain palpable. By now, Wick’s durability feels more symbolic than literal, a way to underline his almost otherworldly status in this labyrinthine world of assassins.
At the centre of this maelstrom is Keanu Reeves, whose performance as Wick has matured alongside the franchise. Reeves imbues the character with a world-weariness that speaks volumes even when Wick says little. His dialogue may be sparse, but his physicality communicates everything: pain, determination, and an almost existential longing for peace. Wick’s journey in Chapter 4 feels like the culmination of everything that has come before, and Reeves carries the weight of that history with quiet dignity.
While Reeves remains the heart of the franchise, Chapter 4 benefits from an ensemble that adds richness and texture to the story. Donnie Yen’s portrayal of Caine, a blind assassin and Wick’s reluctant adversary, is a standout. Yen brings pathos and humour to the role, making Caine one of the series’ most memorable characters. Shamier Anderson’s mysterious tracker, the Bowery King’s continued presence, and Hiroyuki Sanada’s noble Shimazu all contribute to the film’s sprawling narrative. Clancy Brown’s Harbinger and Bill Skarsgård’s Marquis de Gramont are fitting additions to the John Wick rogues’ gallery, with the latter bringing an aristocratic menace to his role as the High Table’s enforcer. These characters highlight the power dynamics and Byzantine politics of the assassin world, reinforcing the idea that Wick’s battle is not just against individuals but an entire system.
If the first John Wick film was a revenge thriller, Chapter 4 is a full-blown myth. The stakes feel biblical, the visuals painterly, and the themes almost Shakespearean. The film explores loyalty, sacrifice, and the cost of vengeance with a surprising emotional depth. Wick’s journey has always been tinged with tragedy, but here it becomes almost cathartic – a man striving for freedom in a world that offers none. The cinematography by Dan Laustsen deserves special mention. From the neon-soaked streets of Osaka to the golden hues of a Parisian sunrise, every frame is a work of art. The film doesn’t merely look expensive; it feels luxurious, like a finely tailored suit.
John Wick: Chapter 4 is a fitting conclusion – if conclusion it is – to a franchise that has redefined the action genre. It’s a testament to the vision of Chad Stahelski and Keanu Reeves, who took a modest premise and transformed it into a phenomenon. The film honours its roots while embracing its larger-than-life ambitions, delivering a finale that feels both epic and intimate. As the credits roll (and roll they do, with a fitting nod to the fans in a mid-credits scene), one can’t help but marvel at how far the franchise has come. John Wick began with a man mourning his dog and ends with a mythic figure leaving an indelible legacy. Whatever the future holds for this universe – and the inevitable spin-offs – it’s clear that John Wick has carved out a place in cinematic history, a monument to the power of precision, passion, and unrelenting style.
