Director: Len Wiseman
Stars: Ana de Armas, Lance Reddick, Anjelica Huston
Ana de Arma’s 10 minutes in No Time to Die not only proved the out-and-out highlight of an otherwise turgid Bond movie but also feels, in retrospect, like the entire genesis of this film. One can practically imagine John Wick co-director Chad Stahelski leaning forward in his seat, meme-like, the gears turning in his head the instant de Armas started pirouetting around the screen for those precious minutes. And while the Cuban-born star has had guest spots in some run-of-the-mill actioners since (Ghosted, The Gray Man), nothing has delivered on that dizzying sense of promise four years ago. The prospect of her tearing up the John Wick cinematic universe felt written in the stars.
That was until perennial hack Len Wiseman got drafted in to helm the project. While his nearest contemporary Paul W.S. Anderson has sometimes been given the benefit of the doubt (particularly since ‘vulgar auteurism’ became a thing), Wiseman hasn’t had anything near the same kind of rehabilitation. Perhaps because his choppy stamp on the dismal likes of the Underworld franchise or that Total Recall remake still cause eyelids to sting. Hopes for Ballerina were adjusted accordingly.
So it’s with some relief that I report a good time was had, all in a manner that cleaves close (maybe even too close) to the look, style and stunts that have made Keanu Reeve’s Baba-Yaga outings some of the most dependable – and bankable – action movies of the past decade. Rumour has it that there were extensive reshoots on this thing, to course-correct the quality control. True or not, the assembled package is nifty enough, even if it never once deviates from genre expectations.
If you’re even slightly familiar with the Black Widows or Red Sparrows of this world, then you’ll have a solid understanding of what to expect. Meet Eve Macarro (de Armas), orphaned at a precious young age, witness to her father’s death at the hands of The Chancellor (Gabriel Byrne), a gruff cult leader who is the first of many to speak loftily of choice, proclaiming the bullet as neither good nor evil; those qualities are in the hands of the beholder. Steered by New York Continental manager Winston (Ian McShane) through the doors of Anjelica Huston’s Ruska Roma academy for ballet and assassination, Eve is schooled in the arts of both.
As we catch up with her twelve years later, it becomes clear that what separates Ballerina from John Wick is its protagonist’s sense of artistry and accomplishment. Where Wick has had a career honing his skills (and, by extension, reputation), Eve is very much a WIP. This is brought to bear in the many fight scenes that unfold once she catches a thread that could lead her back to The Chancellor. Eve is not the finished product that Baba-Yaga has become. She’s prone to a stumble, a misjudgement, and the ensuing need to improvise. This adds a level of risk and energy to the combat scenes that the Wick films were starting to lose. The choreography is less robotic. Fortunately (and surprisingly for Wiseman) the steps are still clean and clear. A tussle around one of this universe’s renowned weapon stores is an accomplished example of this.
Speaking of weaponry, where Wick is first and foremost a gunman, Eve’s preference is for blades or – with surprisingly frequency – grenades. As she methodically closes in on her target, the approach gets increasingly combustive, reaching a fiery peak when happenstance puts a flamethrower in her hands. Credit to de Armas. Unless there’s been some particularly fine face replacement work in post, it looks for all the world as though she’s the one on screen piloting some pretty fearsome pyrotechnics. A good number of stuntmen had a warm day at the office on this shoot.
Cameos from the John Wick series are inevitable but also throw in some surprises of their own. It’s dearly bittersweet to see Lance Reddick one last time as Charon, and deeply sad that the couple of scenes here amount to his cinematic farewell. Precious doesn’t cover it. Reeves, meanwhile, is far more than the anticipated walk-on tidbit. With the plot established as taking place during Chapter 3 – Parabellum and before Chapter 4, Wick becomes a lynchpin of the third act, and Reeves’ calculated presence brings its own energy into the picture.
It would be great to say that de Armas proves out on the promise of her Bond outing but, if anything, she’s not afforded enough space or character to really make Ballerina her own. Eve’s revenge saga is strictly within genre traditions, but the script doesn’t flesh her out beyond this. The only onscreen evidence of her personality is in the fight choreography and the few times that de Armas gets to snarl for the camera. It’s not quite enough to sell an entire franchise spin-off series. There’s nothing wrong with her performance choices, it’s all in the strait-jacket of the story she’s dealt. Where John Wick plays wryly with convention, Ballerina goes in for a full body hug.
However – and this is a big however – it’s more than made up for by the protracted third act action bonanza set in the picturesque snowy stacks of a Germanic mountain village. Ballerina does a bit of the traditional action blockbuster country-hopping, but once it comes to rest in this venue, things tighten up and the stunt and special effects crews get their time to shine. And even if de Armas is handed a rather rote entry into this universe, she still puts in the grit to see this thing through to the end.
Some separation from the traditions of the Wick films might have been welcome at this stage (so tired of Tyler Bates’ boring techno being the only score consideration), but longtime fans will also feel serviced by peeks back behind the curtain of this universe’s curated lore (love me those telephone exchange gals). Whoever ultimately deserves the credit, this is comfortably the best film with Wiseman’s name stamped on it. And if the box office allows de Armas another crack, I’d be onboard, especially if the material allowed her the opportunity to really grow this character into something unique.
The Lost Highway Hotel 