This trilogy finale (gosh, I hope it is the end) represents a conundrum for me. I kind of liked the first one, wherein hitman John Wick (Keanu Reeves) doles out lethal retribution to the meanies who shot his dog. The second one was even more spectacular in its bloodletting, though I really don’t recall why Wick was still killing people. Now this one bathes itself in blood; I would bet that at least two hundred people die at the hands of Wick and his cruel associates.

Chad Stahelski’s film is as morally bankrupt as a film can be. Killing is the only payoff. Multiple sequences of killing dozens of people last for minutes at a time, as Wick, or Sofia (Halle Berry) and her dogs, or the Continental’s managers Winston (Ian McShane) and Charon (Lance Reddick) use their superior firepower and tactics to murder every international assassin who tries to cash in on the $14 million bounty placed upon John Wick. It’s just killing after killing after killing and a lot of gobbledygook about territory and fealty and following the rules laid down by some dope in the desert.

Sure, the action is spectacular. It’s like The Matrix on speed, with whirling cameras, slow motion near-misses and jumps that would cripple any normal human. There is an appalling beauty which Stahelski squeezes for all it is worth as these attractive people dance their way through bullet-flying ballets and kill everyone in sight, mostly with head shots. But is this entertainment? Not for me, not anymore. I truly considered walking out.

I’ve seen enough of this mindless killing. I imagine it’s like some video games, where the thrill is to destroy other characters before they destroy yours. I don’t really see any value in that, and I don’t play those games. Movies have the power to be a whole lot more meaningful than this, and most are. This one is not just morally bankrupt, but depressing as well, especially with the notion that there might be more to come. Heaven forbid. ☆. 23 July 2019.