From the World of John Wick: Ballerina is Rated R by the Motion Picture Rating (MPA) for strong/bloody violence throughout, and language.
There’s a moment early in Ballerina — a quiet, deliberate pause between bullets — where Ana de Armas, bloodied and breathless, locks eyes with the camera. It’s not just a stare; it’s a statement. I am not John Wick. But I am something else. Something colder. Maybe sadder.
From the World of John Wick: Ballerina is a stylish, often mesmerizing detour through the brutal ballet of the Wick-verse. Directed by Len Wiseman, known for his flair for kinetic action (Underworld, Live Free or Die Hard), this spin-off tries to walk the razor’s edge between elegance and violence, grief and revenge. And while it doesn’t always land on its feet narratively, it pirouettes with undeniable flair.
As a franchise extension, it neither soars to the operatic highs of John Wick: Chapter 4 nor crashes and burns. Instead, it dances in the shadows — confident in its choreography, a little wobbly in its soul.
The Story & What It Tries to Say
Eve Macarro (Ana de Armas) is a deadly assassin trained in the secretive traditions of the Ruska Roma — a shadowy organization of dancers and killers we’ve glimpsed in previous Wick entries. After the brutal murder of her father, Eve sets out to trace the men responsible, her journey twisting through blood-drenched nightclubs, candlelit chapels, and neon-drenched alleyways.
But underneath the revenge tale is a deeper meditation on legacy and identity. Who do we become when everything we’ve ever known is shaped by violence? What happens when a woman raised to kill decides to reclaim her agency — not just from her enemies, but from the system that made her?
The film clearly wants to be more than just a revenge flick. It flirts with themes of grief, autonomy, and familial betrayal. But here’s the rub: it rarely digs deep enough. There are flashes — in de Armas’s quiet moments of introspection, or in a heartbreaking scene with a young dancer who looks up to her — that hint at a richer story. But those threads are often brushed aside for another slow-motion kill shot.
It’s not that Ballerina doesn’t have anything to say. It’s that it keeps whispering when it should scream.
Ana de Armas proves once again why she’s one of the most compelling screen presences working today. As Eve, she’s both steel and sorrow — a woman shaped by trauma but still searching for a way to feel something other than rage. There’s a physicality to her performance that’s remarkable. You believe she can kill with a glance, a blade, or a ballet slipper.
But it’s the quiet moments that hit hardest — when she’s alone in a mirrored studio, dancing not for the stage, but to remember who she used to be. De Armas brings a haunted tenderness to a role that could’ve easily been one-note.
Gabriel Byrne, as the enigmatic figure tied to her past, delivers menace with a fatherly calm. Anjelica Huston reprises her role as the Director of the Ruska Roma, offering wisdom laced with veiled threats — she’s like a maternal mob boss crossed with a Russian ghost. Norman Reedus shows up in a small but slick role that leaves you wanting more, though his character feels more like set dressing than substance.
Then there’s the late, great Lance Reddick as Charon. His presence, though brief, is deeply felt. There’s an undeniable ache watching him on screen — a quiet reminder of how much class and gravity he brought to this franchise. His scenes in Ballerina carry an unexpected emotional weight, not just because of the character, but because we know we’re saying goodbye.
Len Wiseman leans hard into aesthetic here — and to his credit, Ballerina looks phenomenal.
The cinematography by Joe Anderson is all silky shadows, flickering candles, and cold blues punctuated by flashes of red. Every frame feels composed, like a painting with a heartbeat. There’s a dance-like rhythm to the action — the choreography is elegant, brutal, and occasionally poetic.
But the pacing is where the film stumbles. For every slickly executed action sequence, there’s a lull that drags. The script tries to inject quieter, more emotional beats, but they often feel disconnected from the forward momentum. You can feel the gears grinding as it shifts between introspection and gun-fu.
That said, there are moments that dazzle. A fight in an abandoned opera house — blending music, mirrors, and mayhem — might be one of the most visually inventive scenes in the franchise. It’s in these moments where Ballerina feels like it’s carving its own identity.
Thankfully, Ballerina doesn’t disappoint in the adrenaline department. The set pieces are visceral, inventive, and, at times, downright beautiful. De Armas handles the choreography like a pro, moving with precision and fury. One sequence — involving a high-speed chase on ice-covered streets — is pure cinematic adrenaline.
But what sets the film apart is its attempt to merge violence with art. The combat feels like part of a performance — every gunshot echoing like a drumbeat, every stab a note in a tragic symphony. It’s not just action for action’s sake — it’s violence with rhythm.
Still, compared to the balletic madness of John Wick 4, the fights here are more intimate, less bombastic. This works in the film’s favor… until it doesn’t. There’s a danger in restraint when your world is built on chaos. Ballerina sometimes feels like it’s holding back too much.
Let’s be honest — Ballerina wouldn’t exist without John Wick. And the film knows it.
There are cameos from familiar faces — Keanu Reeves as Wick himself, Ian McShane as Winston — and they’re handled with just enough reverence not to feel like cheap fan service. But their inclusion raises a question: does Ballerina need them, or are they crutches?
The film tries to expand the mythology, offering more insight into the Ruska Roma and the wider assassin underworld. But it doesn’t take bold steps. It expands the map but doesn’t redraw it. For a spin-off, it plays things a little too safe — adding color, but not new layers.
That said, if the goal was to introduce a new character who could eventually run parallel to Wick or even intersect with his story again, then Eve is a solid foundation.
From the World of John Wick: Ballerina Parents Guide
Violence & Gore: This is where the R-rating earns its stripes. The violence is frequent, graphic, and filmed with almost balletic precision — fitting, given the title. We’re talking up-close headshots, blade combat, and hand-to-hand fights that don’t shy away from bone-crunching realism.
Blood sprays, bodies drop, and while the camera doesn’t linger in a sadistic way, it also doesn’t flinch. One particular fight in a mirrored studio turns into a literal dance of death, and the juxtaposition of elegance and brutality might be beautiful for cinephiles — but intense for younger or more sensitive viewers.
Also worth noting: this isn’t stylized superhero violence. It hurts. You feel the impact. There’s a quiet sadness under it all, which gives the film emotional weight… but that weight is heavy.
Language: Expect a fair amount of strong language throughout — including repeated uses of the F-word, among others. It’s not wall-to-wall profanity, but it’s very present, and used in high-stress, high-tension moments. The characters aren’t vulgar for the sake of it, but this is a grim world, and their vocabulary reflects that.
If you’re the type of parent who winces when a film drops more than a couple expletives, this one might get under your skin.
Substance Use: While there’s no overt drug use shown, alcohol is present in a few scenes — typically in the context of seedy underworld bars or high-end criminal hangouts. No one’s exactly sipping rosé at brunch, but it’s there, in the background of this grim, neon-lit world.
No smoking, no overt drug references — but given the noir tone, the vibe is very much one of people who’ve been through hell and occasionally drown their ghosts in a glass of something strong.
Sexual Content & Nudity: Interestingly, this is where Ballerina shows restraint. There’s no nudity, no sex scenes, and zero sexualized content. That’s a bit of a surprise in a genre that often relies on cheap thrills — but also refreshing. The film is intense, yes, but never exploitative.
Eve is never objectified. Her strength comes from within, and Ana de Armas plays her with depth, not cleavage. Parents concerned about that kind of content can rest a little easier here.
Final Verdict for Parents
Ballerina is a film made for adults — period. It’s grim, gorgeously violent, and laced with emotional trauma. It never panders to a younger audience, and it doesn’t clean up its messes. That said, it’s also a film with surprising restraint in certain areas, and a lead character whose strength lies in her resilience, not her sexuality.
Best suited for:
- Adults and older teens (16+) who are fans of the John Wick series.
- Viewers who can handle emotional themes like grief, revenge, and trauma.
- Audiences who understand the stylized violence as storytelling, not celebration.
Definitely not suited for:
- Younger teens or preteens.
- Anyone squeamish about blood, death, or morally murky heroes.
- Families looking for a cool “action movie night” — this one cuts a little too deep.
So, should your teen watch it? That depends on your teen. If they’re emotionally mature, already well-versed in the John Wick canon, and understand the difference between cinematic violence and real-life consequences — they might even find something meaningful in Eve’s journey.
But for most younger viewers? Let this one wait. The bullets fly fast, but the emotional impact lingers.
Final Thoughts & Recommendation
From the World of John Wick: Ballerina is an intriguing, beautifully violent side step in a world built on blood and ballet. It offers just enough to keep die-hard fans satisfied — the action, the aesthetic, the assassins whispering Latin prayers before pulling the trigger.
Ana de Armas elevates what could’ve been a by-the-numbers spin-off into something that almost, almost, touches greatness. But the script doesn’t trust her enough to slow down and breathe. It moves like a dancer afraid to fall — always reaching, never quite leaping.
If you’re a fan of the Wick universe, this is worth your time — even just to watch de Armas carve her place with grit and grace. But if you’re hoping for a reinvention or a deeper emotional dive, this might feel more like an elegant detour than a destination.
Rating: 6.5/10