Let’s take a look at running times for the four “John Wick” movies:
- “John Wick” — 1 hour, 41 minutes
- “John Wick: Chapter 2” — 2 hours, 2 minutes
- “John Wick: Chapter 3 — Parabellum” — 2 hours, 11 minutes
- “John Wick: Chapter 4” — 2 hours, 49 minutes.
This is getting ridiculous. I’ve been Team Wick ever since those bleeping bleeps stole John’s custom 1969 Mustang Boss 429, beat him up and KILLED THE BEAGLE PUPPY back in 2014, but at this rate, “John Wick XI” is going to be the longest movie in the history of cinema. Somewhere inside the utterly unnecessary, bloated running time for “John Wick IV,” there’s a brilliant, stripped-down, 100-minute classic of a drive-in action film, where the admittedly breathtaking action sequences don’t grind on for so long that they actually become borderline tedious.
In the meantime, we give a grudging but respectful recommendation to the movie that director Chad Stahelski, writers Shay Hatten and Michael Finch, and the first-rate production team have delivered: a John Wick Spaghetti Western filled with the kind of over-the-top action sequences that will have you laughing in admiration — even if you are glancing at your smartwatch from time to time.
For reasons that don’t even matter anymore, our title character is still tagged with the Excommunicado label by the criminal governing board known as the High Table, with the bounty on John Wick’s head continuing to climb as the body count piles up. This is one of the entertainingly loony elements in the “John Wick” franchise — this whole deal with the High Table and the Continental chain of hotels for assassins, and all the rules and regulations and constant in-fighting that goes on. There’s more drama within the High Table ranks than on a typical “Real Housewives” episode — and just a tad more violence as well.
The always interesting Bill Skarsgård is the deliciously foppish Marquis de Gramont, the villainous leader of the High Table who dresses and comports himself as if he’s stepped out of “The Favourite.” The Marquis wants John Wick dead, and the leading contenders to take him out are the low-key and casually deadly “Mr. Nobody,” aka the Tracker (Shamier Anderson), whose partner is one loyal and lethal German Shepherd, and Caine (the great mixed martial arts star Donnie Yen), whose blindness only seems to enhance his uncanny abilities to slice, dice, shoot, stab and kill.
Laurence Fishburne’s Bowery King pops in from time to time to issue proclamations as if he’s the ring announcer at an MMA spectacle. Ian McShane gets some quality screen time as Winston, who wants only to rebuild his beloved New York hotel. It’s particularly poignant and bittersweet to see the late Lance Reddick returning as Winston’s trusty concierge and friend, Charon. Also turning in fine work are Hiroyuki Sanada as Shimazu Koji, who runs the Osaka Continental and is one of John’s few remaining true friends in the world, and Rina Sawayama as Koji’s daughter Akira, who rues the moment John Wick arrives at their hotel because she knows he brings death with him everywhere he goes.
Of course, even with all these fine actors portraying interesting characters, “John Wick IV” is all about the extended action sequences, and they are numerous and bursting with impressive stunt work. A battle royale inside the Osaka Continental is brilliant but goes on FOREVER. In a stunningly well-filmed scene in a Berlin nightclub, Wick does battle with an obese psychopath with gold teeth and his henchmen, as the dancers continue to party while barely noticing the carnage. Another ridiculous slam-bang set piece transpires in the middle of the circular traffic madness around the Arc de Triomphe, with John and various foes bouncing off cars as if they’re inside a pinball machine. Then there’s the penultimate sequence that takes place on the 222 steps leading to the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, with the beleaguered, battered and bruised John Wick taking so many hits we half-expect to hear “Tubthumping” by Chumbawamba on the soundtrack.
By that point, even the filmmakers seem to be acknowledging that we’re in live-action, blood-soaked cartoon territory, and John Wick has become something of a superhero. (He never seems to eat or sleep and rarely even takes a drink, save for a swig of Japanese whiskey with his old friend Koji in Osaka.) Reeves is essentially in Clint Eastwood territory as John Wick, who rarely strings together more than a dozen words at a time and maintains a stoic expression whether he’s saying goodbye to an old friend, fending off a seemingly endless stream of would-be killers or sustaining serious wounds. As much as we love this guy, we might be getting close to the moment when it would be best for all concerned if he figured out a way to disappear forever and live out the rest of his life in quiet anonymity.
Maybe even get a puppy.
