From the World of John Wick: Ballerina Watch Free on Fmovie

**Ballerina** is a watchable action flick that’s already hurting because it’s standing next to *John Wick*, the modern action movie gold standard. The movie doesn’t quite shake the weight of Wick's nearly flawless run. Every time it falters, Wick’s superior style is right there to remind us. At the same time, the newbie killer here clearly picked up a few lessons from the legend. Like the recent *Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning*, the early stretch of *Ballerina* asks us to hang on while the plot colors in the edges; it’s once the clock is past 60 that the fights stretch into fireworks and the cuts get sharper. By the closing act, the movie stitches together a long, enjoyably wild action set piece that embraces silliness in a way that’s perfectly in line with a film that carries the name “From the World of John Wick.”   

*Ballerina* is supposedly sandwiched between *John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum* and *John Wick: Chapter 4*—although the timeline’s a noodle, considering Wick’s popping up here while 3 and 4 slide into one another nonstop. Anyway, the plot kicks off with a killer we met only for a heartbeat in Parabellum: Eve Macarro, a dancer with knives (played by Ana de Armas). When her dad gets clipped by a crew run by somebody only known as the Chancellor (Gabriel Byrne), Winston Scott—Ian McShane in a top hat and gravel—takes her under his wing. Winston hands her over to the Director (Anjelica Huston), the iron lady of the Ruska Roma, a tribe that sees spinning kicks and a plié as equally valid in a death match.

In the opening fight scenes of Len Wiseman's “Ballerina,” fans of the franchise will feel a letdown. The “John Wick” series invented a style of clean, long-shot action that lets us see every move, every hit. Here, Wiseman reverts to faster cuts, shaky pans, and blurry close-ups that obscure the choreography and the skill of the performers. Those tricks are meant to mask average stunts and under-rehearsed fight blocks, and the previous four movies never leaned on them. Credit to cinematographer Romain Lacourbas for keeping the camera a few beats ahead so we can still follow the car park or the chapel, but the cuts and the tracking feel obvious the minute we notice the first punch land a frame too late. If you watched a “Wick” film last weekend, the difference stings.

After a quick intro where Eve shows she can hang in the field, Ballerina shifts to high gear. Her dad's killer is still breathing, and that’s the only fuel she needs. When she spots a killer branded with the same mark that carved up her father, the goal is clear and clean: track, hunt, end. We know the drill. This is the same road covered by Wick when he leveled the world for a lost dog. Now the fire is Eve’s father. In a shadowy Prague Continental, she bumps into an undercooked Norman Reedus who, with a grin and a shrug, tells her the Chancellor is the man to see. Then she lights the Chancellor’s world on fire—figuratively and literally—turning cards, cash, and henchmen to ash. Finally, the Director dials Wick and gives him one polite order: stop her.

Once Byrne’s Chancellor steps back into “Ballerina,” the plot threads and the action choreography snap into confident focus. There’s a scene inside a snow-slicked restaurant that’s pure cinematic candy, full of the kind of surprising moves and jaw-dropping stunts that made audiences fall for the Wick films back in the day. This follows just after the movie’s biggest laugh, where a TV flips through cheeky influences on the whole universe: a flash of Buster Keaton, a bump of The Three Stooges, and the connection lands. At that point, the energy of the whole picture recharges so fast that I half-expected to see Stahelski sitting watchfully in the corner, on the set or the edit bay. The scene comes off tight, witty, and smart.

From the World of John Wick: Ballerina Watch Here Fmovie

"Ballerina" sails through the last third on the same wave it rode before. The Wick cameo, which leaked in trailers, trips up the rhythm—it’s pure fan bait, not really needed at that hour—yet Reeves has more pull in the finale than the press cameo suggested, and he still commands every shot. Ana de Armas is solid but not standout; her moves in the body-builder fights—while impressive—sometimes veer too clean, like she's gliding through choreography instead of wrestling with the hurt. Reeves, at 60, sells the ache: you notice him grimacing after deep falls, and that little crack in the leather jacket gives every dramatic reload some extra gravity. The script from Shay Hatten hands out cheesier lines than usual. We get, “When you play in blood, rules must exist.” Eye-roll. The Wick world has subtext built on movement and the hint of myth; we never needed on-the-nose catchphrases stuffing the barrel when the next magazine is already in the chamber.

The kid-in-a-candy-store simplicity of the dialogue spills over into the stunts too. A horde of faceless, rifle-toting goons runs like they’ve been told the exits are made of ice. At one point they swarm Eve in the armory—really, marching into the one place stacked to the rafters with grenades to finish off the world’s most dangerous assassin. That’s the short list of Bad Ideas.  

Still, none of this sticks in your craw when the movie finds its engine. Without laying any spoilers, the finish finds Eve being chased through a whole European village so the whole village can collectively shove her off the map. The chases and fights crackle with that wild, clip-it-in-60-second-bits quality stunt nerds used to worship in silent comedies. Saying “Ballerina” is just a footnote in Wick’s story is a disservice; it’s the plumbing that pipes you right over the swamp and into the next chapter. The joints all hold, and so do you.