“Wick’s Next Act: Why Ballerina Pirouettes into Our Revenge Fantasies” From the World of John Wick: Ballerina (2025)
- Dan Brooks
- 6 days ago
- 5 min read
An assassin trained in the traditions of the Ruska Roma organization sets out to seek revenge after her father's death.
I’ll admit I was skeptical when they announced “From the World of John Wick: Ballerina” as if Hollywood needed yet another avenue to milk the Wick universe. But as someone who still dreams in bullet casings, I put on my Kevlar underpants, ordered a ginger-ale, and settled in. Spoiler alert: this spin-off mostly succeeds in reminding us why we worship the Church of Continental - while also introducing Ana de Armas as the kick-ass star apprentice we never knew we needed.
First things first: Ana de Armas as our titular ballerina-turned-assassin isn’t just eye candy in a leather jacket; she’s the beating heart of this film. When the story opens, she’s a ghost of grief, eyes brimming with vengeance after her father’s death at the hands of some faceless thug. I half-expected a montage of her mastering the cello as a means of catharsis. Instead, we get a relentless training sequence that rivals Rocky’s finest, except instead of a punching bag, she’s brawling with multiple henchmen while balancing on pointe shoes. That’s right-this ballerina pirouettes into a storm of bullets and comes out wearing a blood-spattered tutu. Classy.
Now, before someone accuses me of romanticizing violence (a charge I’d normally refute with quotes from Nietzche and a whiskey glass), let me be clear: this movie delivers on the “fantastic action” promise. We’ve got flamethrowers, grenades, and a choreography so tight that even Cirque du Soleil might file for an injunction. Ana’s realistic beatdowns- she expects to get her ass kicked, and she does, repeatedly-lend an authenticity that’s refreshing in a genre that so often expects its heroes to absorb gunshots like cartoon characters. Case in point: when she’s cornered in that underground club, the lights are low (okay, maybe too low -more on that later), and she’s pinned between a flamethrower-wielding baddie and a grenade enthusiast with the dexterity of a toddler. The ensuing chaos is pure ballet: limbs flying, embers sizzling, and de Armas eventually standing victorious only when she finally arms herself with actual weapons. Nothing says “girl power” like trading ballet slippers for a semi-automatic.
Of course, a John Wick spin-off that doesn’t feature at least a cameo from Keanu Reeves is like a Canadian without a toque - possible but questionable. Keanu shows up as a cryptic mentor-figure - yes, I’m still deciphering whether he’s giving sage wisdom or just narrating his grocery list in his trademark monosyllabic drawl. The real chemistry here, however, is between Ana and the grizzled Ian McShane. McShane’s Winston dialogue is still sprinkled with enough cockney flair to make you want to adopt a British accent for no reason. He’s the universe’s retired uncle who says, “Don’t go down that road, love,” and then sells you the bullets to run straight into the inferno. It’s the cinematic equivalent of your mom letting you drive the car to the mall after lecturing you on stopping for dinner. Contradictory? Yes. Delightful? Also yes.
But let me circle back to the crux: this film exists between John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum (2019) and John Wick: Chapter 4 (2023), which means our ballerina’s vengeance is basically the cinematic equivalent of a pie slice from a larger eight-tiered cake. If you watch too closely, you’ll see narrative breadcrumbs - tiny hints at events in Wick 4 - sprinkled throughout. But if you’re like me and couldn’t keep track of your own grocery list, just know that the timeline is neatly sandwiched, offering franchise fanatics a morsel of connective tissue without overwhelming the newbie. And let’s not forget: this was originally slated for June 7, 2024, but got delayed until June 6, 2025 to squeeze in more action. Which means the studio had just enough time to ask, “Does Ana deserve an extra flamethrower scene?” Spoiler: yes, she did.
Okay, however, no film is perfect, and “Ballerina” does stutter out of the gate. The beginning’s backstory - our heroine’s life before the “I’m about to kill you” montage - is paced slower than a politician avoiding a tough question. We linger on her childhood memories, her father’s gentle smile, and frankly, I’m checking my watch and mentally planning my grocery list more than empathizing. Granted, grief can be a slow burn, but the movie could have condensed thirty pages of her diary into a five-second montage: picture a quick flash of her father’s kindness, a quick shot of his demise, and a cut to her sweating in a dojo while someone yells, “You call that a roundhouse, Petal?” Instead, we meander through an exposition that feels like he’s narrating his autobiography. Best excuse? They had to earn that emotional payoff before torching everything with bullets and napalm, I suppose.
Let’s also address the freakshow of henchmen. Some look as menacing as the lead in a bedtime story, yet they’re supposedly the elite muscle of the Ruska Roma organization. Twice I found myself sighing when two goons clumsily fumbled grenades like they’d just discovered fire for the first time. I mean, if you’re an assassin-for-hire, perhaps don’t wear your reading glasses in the middle of a firefight? Despite these occasional lapses in henchman IQ, the choreography often redeems these boneheaded moments. Watching Ana juggle a flame thrower while simultaneously dispatching two goons gives you a visceral thrill you can practically taste - like that first sip of water after a four-day bender.
Now, a quick word on cinematography: the movie’s darker than my chances of retiring early. If you enjoy squinting at barely lit scenes just to confirm the person you’re supposed to be cheering is still breathing, this is your jam. But if you prefer to actually see when someone gets a throat slit, you might feel like you’re watching a noir film with overzealous gremlins twisting the dimmer knob. I get that a grim color palette accentuates the tone - we’re dealing with revenge, death, and flame-based murders - but sometimes I had to tilt my head so much I feared a chiropractor appointment. The worst offender is that scene in the abandoned warehouse.
What truly elevates this spin-off is how it expands the franchise without relegating Keanu to the background like a dusty prop. True, he isn’t on screen for every sequence, but his presence hovers like a guardian specter. You feel Wick’s shadow in every perfectly timed kill and hear his disembodied chuckle as our ballerina slices through concrete jungles. Credit where due, Ana de Armas holds her own alongside the universe’s favorite expat Canadian. For those worried the franchise might be stretched thin, rest assured: “Ballerina” understands that Wick’s world isn’t just about one man—it’s about the code, the artistry of violence, and that weird communal bond formed between assassins who respect a dramatically choreographed beatdown.
Finally, a moment of silence for the late Lance Reddick, whose final role as Charon lends the film a bittersweet gravitas. Watch when he exchanges that knowing glance with Winston—Reddick imbues each syllable with so much weight you could wedge a bullet between them. His presence reminds us that this is more than an action flick; it’s part of a tapestry woven with bonds, betrayals, and catacombs of gangsters. His absence from future installments will be like ordering a latte without caffeine—still drinkable, but you’d question the point.
So where does “From the World of John Wick: Ballerina” land in the pantheon of spin-offs? It’s not quite a magnum opus but it’s certainly not a straight-to-VOD cash grab. It’s more like that mid to top-tier rock album you keep returning to, discovering new layers each time you press “play.” The action sequences are redemptive, Ana de Armas blossoms as a new franchise icon, and you’ll forgive the murky visuals because there’s enough lead flying around to keep your heart thumping. Is it the most revolutionary entry in the Wick saga? No. But does it remind us why we fall in love with a universe where a pencil can be deadlier than a tank? Absolutely.
8.0/10
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