It’s a place where cleverly choreographed shoot-’em-in-the-eye-while-doing-a-perfect-double-backflip footwork is the be-all and end-all.
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It’s a place where hit men have their own hotels-establishments that come complete with a killer’s code of conduct and terry cloth robes. This version is set in a fairly well polished noir-like make-believe world. This hyper-violent pulp-action pic is really nothing more than a lot of moviemaking glitz layered over the well-worn tale of a retired killer who reaches for his guns once again. The moral here is, “You kill a mob man’s dog, you’d best be packing.” Viggo punches his foolish son so hard the young man vomits. That killer ends up reaping the management’s bloody wrath in the form of a late-night firing squad. Another individual, however, accepts a contract on John and sets about attacking John and killing another tenant. When John sets out on his quest for revenge, he first checks into the Continental Hotel-an old hit man “safe ground” of his that has strict rules against (and heavy penalties for) any killings conducted on the premises. That gaping wound is splashed with hydrogen peroxide and pieced together with a staple gun. John purposely allows himself to be stabbed in order to wrest away a blade from an attacker. One particularly large gash in John’s side-opened by a broken bottle-needs to be stitched up before it’s ripped wide again. One of John’s attackers is a woman, who’s thrown through a window and has her face cruelly pounded after it’s wrapped in a sheet. Crotches are kicked, legs are shot, facial bones are smashed and eyeballs are obliterated. Red slime splashes walls and floors as chins are impaled, jugulars are slashed and bullets smash through foreheads.
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We see that same kind of brutality repeated in the church, a club full of booze-swilling partiers, a close-quarters men’s room, an abandoned warehouse, and just about every place else you can imagine mob guys gathering. John” scene features our antihero tumbling and twirling through his darkened home as he shoots point-blank blasts into faces breaks arms, legs and necks over hard surfaces and obliterates his assailants with savage efficiency. Getting the sense yet that there’s a lot of revenge-filled death-dealing in this movie? Once John gets going, scores and scores of thickly accented miscreants meet their end in gushes of gore and brain matter. But now John has nothing left to love and a dog to avenge. He had put it all behind him after finding love. Not so long ago he was an incredibly skilled contract killer, feared by many. John Wick, you see, is a man with a past. It was only fair for John to listen to Viggo, his former employer, before making it clear that he was coming for the boy. John buried Daisy, gathered his supplies and then took a call from one Viggo Tarasov-the Russian boss who had just discovered that his son had paid John a nasty visit. The dog was a vicious gut-punch-a devastating blow that ripped something important right out of him. When John came to, his car was gone and his dog was dead. And after the heartless thugs turned and put a bullet in her, Daisy dragged her bleeding body to lie near her wounded master. And she barked anxiously when those intruders caught John by surprise and beat him senseless. Of course, Daisy was also there when the punk and his boys broke into John’s house later that night. And she was licking John’s hand when he turned the guy down cold and drove away. She was woofing when the punk son of a Russian mobster offered to buy the car outright. And so, she was there when John gassed up his classic Boss 429 Mustang. When he drove, she was in the passenger seat. Thereafter, John and Daisy went everywhere together. The pain was still there, but he had started to breathe again. She helped him find … focus, courage, purpose.
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Daisy was a cute little bundle of paws and fur that John came to rely on. Over the next few days, Helen’s wisdom was proved out. She knew he’d need something to love when she was gone. Leave it to her to be thinking of him, even at the end of her own life. One look at the card that came with the carrier, though, helped wake John up a bit. His wife’s funeral was just hours behind him, her death from a ravaging disease still bitter in his mouth. When John Wick accepted the little dog that was delivered to his front door, he was still pretty numb.