

Movie Reviews
From The World Of John Wick: Ballerina ★★
Released: 6 June 2025
Director: Len Wiseman
Starring: Ana de Armas, Keanu Reeves, Ian McShane, Anjelica Huston, Gabriel Byrne, Catalina Sandino Moreno, Norman Reedus, Lance Reddick & Sharon Duncan-Brewster
In an alternate universe, actress Ana De Armas would be a bigger star than she is right now. As nurse Marta Cabrea in Rian Johnson’s Knives Out, she shined amongst a star-studded ensemble. Denis Villenueve’s Blade Runner 2049 displayed complexity and empathy in playing the holographic avatar Joy. Heck, if anything, her cameo in No Time to Die as Paloma showed potential as an action star, combining comedic ditzy with badass overtures to cleverly revamp the nature of the Bond girl. It should have been the kickstart before the false dawns in Ghosted, The Gray Man and Blonde rained on her filmographic parade. And yet, in 2025, Hollywood doesn’t seem to have cracked the code on how to effectively utilise her talents.
That trend unfortunately continues in Ballerina. Her character Eve Maccaro, an assassin on a revenge mission – no dogs were harmed this time around, just a murdered father and family secrets to contend with – is saddled with drawn out exposition, pedestrian pacing and undercooked character development. Shay Hatten and Derek Kolstad’s wafer-thin script doesn’t seem remotely interested in Eve, spending a good chunk of the two-hour and five-minute runtime training up its blank-slate combatant in Ruska Roma fighting traditions with plenty of ‘girl boss energy’ dished out by her trainer Nogi (Sharon Duncan-Brewster). Why Ballerina thought this was necessary to depict is a total mystery. When female characters such as Adrianne Palicki’s Perkins, Ruby Rose’s Ares and Halle Berry’s Sofia already exist in the Wick-verse, de Armas is yet again short changed.
With John Wick and its subsequent Chapters, there was something special in what director Chad Stahelski and star Keanu Reeves established. Embedded within its simplified mythology was an ode to the history of physical cinema, imprinted on a franchise which revels in the escalation and silent theatrics of Buster Keaton. There was a visceral language behind every frame: innovation was celebrated, stunts were pushed to their highest boundaries and emotions felt the weight of their punches, falls or car whacks. There was care and affection for the craft, proudly accepting its chaotic sense of ridiculousness, and demanding the audience buckle up for the ride.
Those are admittedly hard footsteps to follow, but there’s no such cinematic conversation to be had in Len Wiseman’s directorial effort. Ballerina, which takes place between Chapter 3 and 4, plays in the same sandpit of assassins, brutal kills and concierge hospitality from a dearly missed Lance Reddick’s Charon, yet can’t recapture that same magic. Wiseman instead assembles a game-like imitation of the franchise, a generic assortment of images and references with no distinct personality, unique visual style or understanding of what made it satisfying. Like a deer caught in headlights, Ballerina’s impact is reduced to being stuck in the shadows of its innovative predecessor. Ballerina exists to answer the question “what happens when you order the John Wick franchise off Temu?”

A nightclub scene should be the pinnacle of every John Wick film, yet the one in Ballerina speaks volumes about the soulless identity crisis Wiseman’s film finds itself in. Set against the backdrop of an ice-themed room, ‘The Kiki Mara’ (Ballerina’s version of the ‘Baba Yaga’) dispatches her enemies with ice picks and a dick-shooting take on gun-fu which sounds like it should give de Armas her big action credential calling card. Instead, the scene is edited to death, robbing it of any flow or momentum for a safe hand holding exercise for the audience. And the mess doesn’t get any better from there.
Eve moves between scenes like a computer game cutscene. Behind every doorway or room, there’s an armoury savepoint, buying herself enough time to rearm and reload for the next battle. Characters in her orbit are given the bare minimum of dialogue and motivation while she gathers the thinnest layer of intelligence to find a child-catching cult leader in Gabriel Byrne’s The Chancellor.
Besides the nostalgic (and de-aged) returns of The Director (Anjelica Huston) and Winston (Ian McShane), Ballerina doesn’t offer much beneath the surface of its perfunctory worldbuilding. As much as Wiseman presents his film as a ‘non-stop action escapade’, it’s preoccupied by IP fear. The reshoots and rewrites are easy to spot with the ‘Baba Yaga’ himself thrown in as a last minute addition. Reeves breezes back into action as if he never left, yet his inclusion adds nothing to his story besides tipping its hat towards “consequences.” Damningly, the real ‘consequence’ is the palpable sense that Lionsgate don’t actually have the confidence in de Armas leading the franchise.
Occasionally, we witness glimpses of the film’s potential. Abraham Popoola’s Frank has the best line of the movie. Grenade-fu quickly becomes Eve’s signature trademark for the comical ways a henchman can die. An extensive flamethrower battle adds fiery spectacle for its 3rd act. And what Eve can do with dish plates or a pair of ice skates are moments when it doesn’t take itself too seriously. But the problem is, it almost comes too late in the game when these rare moments of glee are over in an instant.
Somewhere buried within Ballerina, there is a solid action-thriller waiting to be unearthed, something far more entertaining and engaging, but this isn’t it. It’s a notable step-down that carries John Wick in name but not in nature and, frankly, doesn’t give much hope for future spin-offs planned. Wiseman’s film hasn’t earned its place at the high table, and de Armas continues to deserve far better.
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