Baba Yaga’s Ballerina

By Herman M. Lagon

“Ballerina,” the fifth chapter in the John Wick world, is not just another action movie. It is a sharp, stylish tale that dances between violence and vulnerability, grit and grace. After a long, draining duty, my daughter Parvane—clearly exhausted and in need of a break—was nudged by me to watch a movie she already loved in theory, being a Wick fan herself. We ended up in Robinsons Jaro on a quiet Saturday afternoon, unknowingly stepping into a kind of moving meditation. There we were—father and daughter—watching Eve Macarro (Ana de Armas) pirouette and punch her way through a world that was both brutal and strangely beautiful. Sometimes, what you need is not a deep talk—but bullets, ballet, and someone you love beside you in the dark.

Ana de Armas brings both power and poise to the screen, not just as a fighter but as someone who seems haunted yet determined. Her character, Eve, is no sidekick or trope. She moves clinically, navigating loss, loyalty, and rage like someone trying to make sense of her scars. It hit close to home. Maybe that is why Parvane—often the harshest critic in the room—leaned over after the credits and whispered, “This one’s worth it, kahit doble ang bayad.” That line alone made my day. Coming from her, that was a full standing ovation.

The film is not for the faint of heart. It is loud, relentless, raw, and at times a little absurd—but then again, so is the world we live in. Unlike films that try too hard to be profound, “Ballerina” knows what it is: a punchy, visual ride with just enough story to care. For people who have grown up watching local classics, this one may feel familiar in a different language—stories about survival, betrayal, and fighting back when the system fails you.

What stood out to me was the mythology beneath the mayhem. The Ruska Roma, with their rituals and layered codes, reminded me of our own folklore. The snowy backdrop may be foreign, but the emotional terrain—loss, loyalty, vengeance, searching for one’s place—felt all too familiar. You do not need to be in Vienna or Prague to understand what it means to feel abandoned and still rise.

Critics might call the John Wick midquel predictable, but sometimes a well-told tale is exactly what you need. Not needing reinvention, this film does not apologize for its formula. The real art is in the execution—how each fight feels like choreography, how each pause before a kill feels like a beat in a symphony. I once heard that mastery is not about new tricks, but old ones done with precision. That’s what this film does.

Keanu Reeves makes a brief but meaningful appearance—not just as an icon, but as a quiet compass. His role here is not just fan service; it says something deeper about choosing when to fight and when to let go. It reminded me that not all stories are about right or wrong—some are about figuring out who is still worth fighting for.

Despite all the reshoots and adjustments, “Ballerina” still feels like it was made with care. It is not perfect—some scenes drag, and the villain’s story could have used more layers—but it stays grounded in its purpose. Director Len Wiseman and producers like Chad Stahelski clearly know the rhythm this universe moves to. And de Armas carries it with quiet conviction, never overshadowed even by the shadow of John Wick himself.

Beneath all the shots, grit, fire, ice, and chaos lies something unexpectedly tender—a quiet reflection on power, abandonment, making choices, and the often overlooked strength of women. A line early in the film—“fight like a girl”—is not a joke. It is the thesis. Eve does not just fight for revenge. She fights to remember who she is. Lux in tenebris. Light in darkness. In a country where women still have to ask for space to be heard, that message hits harder than any bullet.

Parvane and I did not walk out quietly. We immediately launched into a mix of critique and analysis, as if it were a college thesis. We talked about the fights, the plot, the pacing, the drama, the choices, the cross-references, the anachronisms, the metaphors. But more than that, we talked about grit—the kind that hides behind sharp words, tired eyes, or tired feet. Watching Eve survive felt like watching my daughter do the same in her own life: choosing to show up, to fight her own silent battles, and to stand her ground, no matter how shaky.

“Ballerina” might not win big awards or earn a spot on critics’ best-of lists anytime soon. But for those who know the weight of pain and the courage it takes to keep going, it hits where it matters. Not in the mind, but in the muscle memory of survival. It stays with you—not for its story, but for its heartbeat.

***

Doc H fondly describes himself as a ‘student of and for life’ who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world that is grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views herewith do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.