BALLERINA Review: All She Wants To Do Is Dance (But Her Shooting Skills Are Better)
Ana de Armas, Anjelica Huston, Gabriel Byrne, Lance Reddick, Catalina Sandino Moreno, Norman Reedus star, with Ian McShane, and Keanu Reeves.

When Eve Macarro was a little girl, she liked to dance, like a ballerina, as we see in the opening flashback, showing Eve and her father spending time by the sea and providing some useful tidbits of exposition through their dialogue.
The same night, figures dressed in black and led by Gabriel Byrne appear from the sea, kill Eve’s father, and try to take her with them, albeit unsuccessfully. The impeccably dressed Winston (Ian McShane) appears and offers to take the girl to the people whom her dad considered family.
Years later, Eve, now played by Ana de Armas, successfully completes the training with the Ruska Roma to be a ballerina-assassin, which, if other films about ballerina-assassins have taught us anything, is much more about effectively bashing people’s heads in than actually dancing. A few months later, Eve carries a bloody cellophane bag into the office of her boss (Anjelica Huston). The bag contains the severed arm of a man who had the same mark as the people who killed Eve’s dad.
Obviously, none of this truly matters in The World of John Wick, to which Ballerina belongs. This universe has never been about narratives, motivations (sorry, Daisy), or even the mythology revered by many loyal fans, which grows more wonderfully outlandish with each new installment. Much like the ballerina-assassin’s training, this franchise always cared more about bashing heads in (as well as blowing things up, stabbing, shooting, using the most ridiculous objects as weapons, etc.) and finding fun and cinematic ways to graphically depict it.
So, that’s exactly what Ballerina is busy doing – rather successfully. The task also includes testing the waters for the franchise’s future with a new lead and a new director attached, as the spinoff is helmed not by Chad Stahelski but by Len Wiseman. Both major players of the franchise are still present, though, both in spirit and literally: as already spoiled by the trailers, Keanu Reeves’ John Wick makes a memorable appearance, and Stahelski remains one of the producers, who reportedly was also involved in the filming at some point.
Whether these reports are true or exaggerated, Wiseman, the director of Underworld and Live Free or Die Hard, is clearly adept at balancing his own action style with that of the series. These films work best when the gun-fu and other bloody entertainment really lean into the silliness and absurdism, and that’s where Ballerina truly excels.
Along the way, kitchen knives, axes, katanas, grenades, and flamethrowers are employed. Some Xenia Onatopp-style action is thrown in. McShane, Huston, and Byrne take great delight in voicing vaguely philosophically-sounding nonsense, while Eve gets by mostly just saying “They killed my father” multiple times and shoving a grenade down someone’s throat.
Ana de Armas and her trademark way of projecting vulnerability and tenacity at the same time fit this universe perfectly, and even Reeves’ cameo doesn’t steal her thunder. In fact, that cameo is a masterclass in how to be respectful both to the existing legacy and the new material.
The only tangible issue here doesn’t have anything to do with the film itself, but rather with the franchise as a whole. And even more — with its most loyal segment of the fanbase, the ones who see the John Wick films as something radically different rather than re-imagined B-movies. Since Ballerina is very open about being that very thing and fully owns it, it might be disappointing to the viewers who see the franchise as something more than just a wildly, gloriously entertaining guilty pleasure. Everyone else will be, well, wildly and gloriously entertained.
The film is now playing, only in movie theaters, via Lionsgate. Visit the official site for locations and showtimes.
Ballerina
Director(s)
- Len Wiseman
Writer(s)
- Shay Hatten
- Derek Kolstad
Cast
- Ana de Armas
- Keanu Reeves
- Ian McShane