John Wick: Chapter 4 closed Keanu Reeves’ saga of ruthless revenge with a bold finish, yet the chatter didn’t stop there. Almost right away, talk of spin offs emerged: Ballerina with Ana de Armas and The Continental, exploring the hotel’s legendary early days under Winston Scott. The creators suggested a world of assassins that could carry on without Baba Yaga. Then Continental arrived, and viewers found the first impression uneven. Why did that happen? Here is a closer look.
This is not Wick
Expanding major cinematic universes can be risky and sometimes harmful. Often, projects driven by a quick money grab derail the momentum, leaving fans disappointed. There are plenty of examples, with Disney frequently cited for overextending its franchises, including Marvel and Star Wars, when the core appeal could be diluted by pacey spin-offs rather than a well-planned arc.
The Wick saga began as a breath of fresh air for action cinema. A stylishly dressed figure moves through crowds, reloads with a calm precision, and survives threats that push him to the edge. Yet Wick was never presented as a hero in the conventional sense. The trigger was simple yet potent: the death of a beloved dog set off a chain of consequences that spiraled into an all-encompassing underworld story.
By Part 4, the magic had started to wane. The hero’s fall from grace became cartoonish at times, with exaggerated stumbles and stunts that strained credibility. Behind the scenes, the sense of a fully realized world with its own rules began to dilute. The distinctive mood, the meticulous action, and the oddball cast that gave the original chapters their texture felt diminished, even as the franchise kept moving forward.
In the narrative, a few familiar figures held sway. Winston Scott, the Continental Hotel manager, and Charon, the faithful administrator, stood out as anchors in a setting that could otherwise feel crowded. Ian McShane delivered a performance that gave depth to a supporting character, a reminder of the series’ earlier strengths.
Three feature-length episodes explored how Scott rose to his post and what shaped his early choices, using the character’s youth as a springboard. The casting shift required adjustments, with the new actor offering a different take that did not fully align with the established tone. In this recalibration, sentiment and nuance often dissolved into exposition and predictable beats.
The portrayal of Winston’s evolution brought another challenge. Colin Woodell’s interpretation depicted a less restrained, more volatile leader, contrasting with the calculating, courteous figure audiences remembered. That gap left Winston feeling less at home within the Wick universe, a risk when a familiar name anchors a new story arc.
The supporting cast, including a sharp-witted but inconsistent lineup — a capable but underdeveloped antagonist in Cormac — highlighted how the spin-off balanced ambition with execution. Cormac’s actions sometimes lacked clear motivation, leaving gaps in the dramatic engine rather than fueling it. The result was a series that leaned toward drama and dialogue over the kinetic pulse fans associate with Wick’s world.
The overarching arc of Killers’ leadership and a heist of power over the Continental became the central thread. Yet as episodes unfolded, the tension didn’t quite cohere into a compelling action narrative. The promise of cunning strategy or a battle of wits remained largely unrealized, replaced by long stretches of conversation and bureaucratic maneuvering that did not always justify their own length.
As the second act progressed, questions about scale and purpose emerged. Could the new team truly conquer the Continental? The answer often pointed toward collaboration, yet the stories still hinged on the idea of a single figure directing the move. The ensemble, while diverse, did not achieve the same distinctive synergy that defined Wick’s original circle.
On the surface, the series offered something familiar: visual flair that evokes a New York of the 1970s, a score that reinforces mood, and a few action set-pieces that land with style. The opening sequence, echoing Wick’s signature gunplay turned ritual, and the attempted final showdown delivered spectacle. Yet the producers did not always translate Wick’s kinetic elegance into this new format, resulting in a product that felt more like homage than evolution.
Character threads, such as Charon’s role at the hotel, hinted at deeper lore. However, the storytelling wavered. The fused mythology of the Continental, the mystery device rumored to govern hotel power, and the tension with a world-spanning board opened up questions about canon and continuity. If a key plot device acts as a lever for political drama rather than action, what remains of the pursuit that defined the original films?
Continental’s ambition faced another hurdle: the practical challenge of expanding a universe while preserving the essence of its best elements. The result is a viewing experience that may be visually engaging but lacks the lean, purposeful momentum that made the early chapters so memorable. The hope remains that future installments like Ballerina or another Continental season will sharpen the balance between style, story, and stakes. If not, the verdict will be simple: a universe without Wick still exists, but its heartbeat might be hard to find.
Do you agree with expanding cinematic universes with spin-offs?
spoon of honey
First, the visual mood translates well. The palette leans toward muted, moodier tones that evoke urban nights and a period flavor, complemented by a soundtrack that nods to the era without feeling dated. The result is a distinct atmosphere that invites viewers into a recognizably stylized world.
Second, the action, while leaner, still offers moments of high impact. The opening sequence pays homage to Wick’s kinetic style, and the hotel siege delivers a series of well-orchestrated confrontations. The creators experimented with varied ways to depict the violence, attempting to translate the dancer-like gunfights into a broader toolkit of consequences and approaches. It remains engaging in spots, even if it diverges from the original’s exact logic.
Characters such as Charon appear again, offering a link to the series’ ancient roots, and the attempt to weave mythic motifs into the hotel’s lore adds a layer of cultural texture. The idea of a coin-based economy, and the symbolic weight of gold as ritual payment, show an ambition to embed lore that extends beyond surface action. Yet as the mystery grows, questions about the machine powering the Continental’s control arise, leaving viewers to wonder about the mechanics that underwrite the universe.
Winston’s path remains the focal point, and the broader question emerges: does the spin-off format truly expand the Wick mythos, or does it risk stretching the world too thin? The final takeaway for many is mixed. If the goal is to preserve atmosphere and offer occasional thrilling moments, the gamble holds. If the aim is to deepen the franchise’s core philosophy and character authenticity, there is still room to grow. For now, fans may weigh the value of Ballerina and continuation under the Continental banner against the memory of the sharper, more cohesive earlier films.
Do you want to watch Ballerina or The Continental?