The problem with the "John Wick" franchise, starring Keanu Reeves as a skilled assassin on the run, is that the movies are really, really good. The sets are dazzling, the costumes stylish, the action scenes astounding for their quality and quantity.
The "John Wick" movies are so good that, at times _ perhaps during the 80th or 90th kung-fu fight _ you start wishing they would become truly great.
"John Wick: Chapter 3 _ Parabellum," the latest in the series, is undeniably entertaining. It's an excellent example of the somewhat diminished genre known as pulp _ the violent, morally indefensible junk that, for some of us, is the whole reason we fell in love with movies. Pulp has been rendered less impressive, perhaps, by so many superhero spectacles; even the artful, ambitious stuff, like last year's "Hotel Artemis," can struggle to find an audience. Meanwhile, though, the "John Wick" films _ wildly inventive and enjoyably goofy _ have turned tidy profits.
