I watched John Wick for the first time, and now the world is a cold, dead place

The nasty, fuck-all action genre is primed for a come back. 

 

Prominent in the late 70's and early 80's, the level of violence and nihilism in films from that era are tailor made for this post-2016 rejoinder of resistance, frustration and anger. In an interesting turn of events, noted "whoa" enthusiast and red pill taker Keanu Reeves has recently emerged as something of an unlikely poster boy for this unofficial movement.      

 

Mr. Reeves' action star resurgence isn't really surprising. Reeves is a very talented performer, but one of his most endearing attributes is his...let's say "purposeful blankness." At certain points, this talent has been referred to as a weakness. However, that kind of criticism is missing the point. Reeves is malleable and relatable in a way that transcends traditional methods. His natural air of detachment can be used in innumerable ways in any given film. The surprise 2014 action hit John Wick proves this in spades. 

 

John Wick is a ruthlessly stylish revenge thriller throwback that proudly wears its 80's action cinema influences prominently on its blood soaked sleeve. Upon its release, I was blissfully unaware of what it would eventually do to me just 3 years later, when I would actually watch it. An ignorant existence that (unsurprisingly) didn't contain murdered puppies, invincible Kung Fu gun fights or John Leguizamo. The film stars Reeves, in a role so perfect for him that so perfectly encapsulates the tone of the film, that I may just not care about anything anymore. 

 

Neon lights and blood soaked nights. Propulsive score in the background highlighting the drive for revenge as the only thing left in the world. John Wick is like if Charles Bronson penetrated Hipster culture and decided to murder only Eurto-trash. It's like if The Dirty Harry series ditched it brazen fascism and replaced it with a cold, yet polished modernity. John Wick is not about redemption; it's about burning the world down for having the audacity to fuck with you. That its subject finds a small amount of peace by the film's end is almost a coincidence. He may have just run out of bullets. 

 

John Wick uses such cold precision to splatter its canvas. It accomplishes the very difficult task of disassociating the viewer from the proceedings using its brand of polished, maximum carnage; but also ingratiating itself to you with the simplicity of its poignancy. Reeves, nearly superhuman here, balances that absurdity with a mild mannered calmness that effectively places him in the every-man role that is more human than anything else in the film. 

 

Now, it remains to be seen (by me, anyway) if this balance between anarchy and humanity is able to be sustained in the pretty damn successful sequel, John Wick: Chapter 2. But the franchise's continued financial triumph is hopefully indicating a swell in the kind of nihilistic escapism that provided those necessary dalliances into our frustrated subconscious in decades past. Keanu Reeves as the face of this movement is both totally asinine, and yet somehow completely splendid. 

 

As a film, John Wick is so obviously over the top, but is impressively still able to relate director Chad Stahelski ultimate authority. Nothing ever spins out of control, or becomes farcical--despite its more ridiculous tendencies. It's a film whose discipline and coldness put against the backdrop of its violence and vibrancy, excite you while also completely draining you. John Wick is a brutal waltz between blood and guts and heart and sorrow. 

 

And that's super fucking weird.