Ballerina – A dark dance
Ballerina is not a film built to thrill, a reckless, roaring symphony of bullets and spectacle that floods the senses and demands nothing in return. But what else would you expect from the Wick universe. It’s a movie that creeps up on you and settles like a shadow in your chest, shifting your pulse before you’ve even noticed.
Ballerina doesn’t ask to be watched but instead demands to be reckoned with.
This spin-off of John Wick opens a window into new darkness rather than offering a reprieve from it. It’s not a hopeful story. It’s one about sacrifice, whispered beneath broken music boxes. A tale about lives fractured by blood and the cruelty of fate. And it doesn’t pretend it has all the answers.
A Story Etched in Quiet Fury
Ballerina spins its tale between the chaos of John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum and Chapter 4, centering on Eve Macarro, a young girl formed in the aftermath of her father’s murder. Left with nothing l but a battered music box and ice in her veins, this orphan was raised under the austere tutelage of the Director of the Ruska Roma. She evolves into something exquisite and dangerous.
The film sets her on a path of vengeance, a precise and punishing ballet of violence. She hunts, she kills, she marches ever closer to those who stole her father. Each step is heavy with the weight of grief, and each strike reminds us how far light can fade before it disappears entirely.
Figures Carved from Stone
Ana de Armas brings Eve to life with a quiet ferocity. It’s not the stoic brooding of Wick, this is sharper, colder, hell have no fury like a woman scorned. She doesn’t dazzle. She haunts. Her presence is a blade, cutting through the mist of hollow revenge with trembling precision.
The Chancellor, played by Gabriel Byrne, is a villain whose charisma has been honed into menace. His people, gathered in a snowbound village of killers, feel more like a nightmare than an underworld. They’re personified consequences, rather than individuals.
Keanu Reeves glimpses through the chaos, an uneasy echo of Wick’s presence. But here, he’s not pivotal, but rather a reminder of past tunnels already navigated.
The Craft of Cold Precision
Len Wiseman directs with a scalpel’s precision, carving out every moment to emphasize the cost. The film doesn’t waste a gesture. Every blow, every misstep, is measured. This isn’t flashy showmanship, it’s calculated, the way vengeance always is. As you’d expect from the title, the action is a well executed dance. And like a professional ballet that uses music rather than words, dialogue seems out of place, disjointed.
What Remains Once the Noise Fades
At its core, Ballerina is a study of loss and identity. Eve trades pieces of herself for her vengeance. She fights not just others, but memories, silence, and longing. The film doesn’t pretend she emerges whole, she allows herself to dive into the abyss and be reshaped by her pain. Where Wick clawed his way back from grief, Eve slides further into her own shadow. She’s not achieving anything, so much as declaring war on what remains. A resignation to heartbreak instead of heroism.
Performances That Somberly Echo
De Armas is formidable, not because she overplays, but because she underplays. Her vengeance is not born out of determined survivorship, but rather a consequence of her trauma, as inescapable as the events which lead her to this point. Making Byrne’s Chancellor her destiny.
The Final Movement You Can’t Ignore
Without spoiling, Ballerina ends in reflection, not redemption. The final act refuses to decorate its wounds, leaving them bared for the world to see. It’s not catharsis. It’s acknowledgment. That the dance continues long after the stage lights dim.
You won’t walk out relieved. You’ll walk out tired, maybe colder, but clearer. It’s not a comfort. It’s clarity.
