This is a requiem of motherhood and madness, with body horror that is intense enough to cause an entire theater to audibly react. This isn’t just haunting, it’s a metamorphosis born from grief that will let nothing stand in its way. The Philippou brothers have done it again.
This dances on the blade’s edge between grief and fury. Eve is a weapon sculpted by trauma and set ablaze by her own tragic loss. And like John Wick before her, she doesn’t seek justice. She seeks symmetry.
Her revenge is a violent choreography. The flamethrower fight burns itself into memory with its adagio of carnage. The Director returns as the matriarch of assassins. And Wick, ever the revenant, reminds us once again about choices and consequences.
Once again, death sharpens its scythe with a wicked grin. This installment honors the domino dread of the originals, but adds a deeper game beneath the gore. And in his final role, Tony Todd becomes the voice of inevitably itself. May the applause, like the one in theater during his scene, echo long after the credits fade.
This is an oceanic nightmare that thrashes with a primal force. Tucker is like a shark in human skin with a messianic obsession. He not only kills, he feeds his victims to “the real gods.” Zephyr, a loner surfer, is both bait and blade. Their collision is a mythic dance of blood and survival between predator and prey. It loses its teeth just before the credits roll, but that does not take away from its doomed beauty.
