In John Wick spin-off Ballerina, the tutus are replaced with tactical gear, but the charm remains. Ana de Armas steps into the chaos of Chad Stahelski’s hyper-stylised actionverse with quiet ferocity and a backstory carved out of childhood trauma.
Directed by Len Wiseman and written by franchise regular Shay Hatten, Ballerina — officially titled From the World of John Wick: Ballerina — is less about dance and more about discipline. The film plants itself somewhere between the events of John Wick: Chapter 3 and Chapter 4, as the titular assassin lays low, ceding the spotlight to a new agent of vengeance, Eve Macarro (Ana de Armas).
Eve’s story isn’t wildly original. Daughter of assassin parents, she is thrust into a violent underworld after her family is targeted by a shadowy organisation known as the Cult. Orphaned and on the run, she is taken in by the Ruska Roma, a secretive order that trains her to become both a ballerina and a deadly assassin. Over 12 years, Eve masters her craft but remains haunted by the past.
When an attack by a Cult assassin reveals that her enemies are still active, Eve defies her mentors and embarks on a personal mission of revenge, one that takes her from the New York Continental to the Prague Continental, and eventually to a secluded town where the Cult hides in plain sight. Along the way, she uncovers shocking truths about her own identity, her family’s betrayal, and the web of loyalties and deceit surrounding her.
Ana de Armas delivers a performance that is both physically commanding and emotionally layered. Action heroines have wielded guns and landed punches for decades but de Armas brings something more: a vulnerability that simmers just beneath the surface. This gives her character, Eve Macarro, a sense of depth that makes every blow she lands and every hit she takes feel personal.
De Armas doesn’t play Eve as an invincible killing machine. She’s bruised, broken, and constantly on edge. But she never comes across as weak. Her strength lies not in how perfectly she lands a roundhouse kick but in how clearly she conveys what it costs her. Every scene is charged with purpose — her grief is real, her rage is earned, and her resilience is inspiring.
The action choreography in Ballerina is the real hero. If you’ve followed the John Wick films for their geometric gun-fu and balletic brutality, Ballerina won’t disappoint. Wiseman sets the camera spinning, sometimes literally, as Eve beats up faceless henchmen with everything from kitchen knives to flamethrowers. A warehouse inferno and a knife-fight in the rain standout.
Yes, Keanu Reeves appears in the film — the trailers gave it away. But this is no glorified cameo or awkward handover. Wick is present, but distant. He watches. He mentors, perhaps. But he does not dominate. That space belongs wholly to Eve. She bleeds for it. And she earns it.
Then there’s Gabriel Byrne as Chancellor, the leader of the Cult. He makes for the perfect antagonist with dead eyes and cold logic.
The criminal underworld of the John Wick universe is once again depicted as a surreal bureaucracy of death, complete with operatic codes, gold coins, and grim-faced intermediaries.
And the film makes Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake a recurring motif, drawing parallels between the grace of dance and the discipline of violence. Still, there are moments when the film flirts with excess. The revenge arc, while emotionally charged, unfolds in familiar beats.
That said, Ballerina accomplishes something rather rare for a franchise spin-off: it feels satisfying. It is not just a brand extension or a side quest, but a story with its own gravity. Ana de Armas brings vulnerability to a world otherwise governed by stoic silence and stylish murder. Her Eve Macarro doesn’t just survive, she earns her place.
And if this Ballerina is the start of a new series within the Wick universe, there’s plenty of reason to keep watching.