On Wednesday, I saw John Wick, starring Keanu Reeves and Willem Dafoe.
John (Reeves) is a man of few words. Then again, he doesn't need many. He left a legendary life of crime when he fell in love with his wife, but now she's passed on and he's alone. Oh, so alone.
Until ... a puppy arrives. A gift arranged by his late wife, this little guy (who is painfully cute, but devoid of a name) becomes the light of his life. We see the puppy navigating his new life in the mansion that years of bloodshed built, and we can't help but fall for him too.
Of course, it's all a ploy to get us so emotionally attached to the dog that we won't be able to bear it when he's horrifically killed. What's worse? It's by some painfully dumb bad guys who don't realize this man's best friend belongs to John Wick.
That's when things get interesting. They stole Wick's car and killed his dog. Now, he wants revenge.
After unloading an arsenal of weapons that look like something out of a Middle-East military bunker, he begins to make that happen.
With a lot of clever choreography and some token at-the-loud-and-flashy club scenes, his fury is unleashed. Keanu broods a lot.
And it's fun, if you're into that sort of thing.