John Wick: Chapter 2

The body count is higher than on Hacksaw Ridge. How can one man be responsible for so much killing? He can't. John Wick is the progeny of Hollywood's love affair with violence and has become an icon of cool. First there was Neo in The Matrix and now there is JW, not to be confused with JC, the dark suited harbinger of death, played by Keanu Reeves whose acting style is synonymous with the strong silent type and whose energy for a man over 50 is impressive.

The prototype, unambiguously titled John Wick, had the underworld's feared hitman going about his business amongst the Russian mafia in New York. This time it's The Godfather crowd except Francis Ford Coppola had nothing to do with it. Wick is on the verge of retirement when an ambitious princeling from a Roman family calls in a promise and demands he completes one final task - to murder his sister.

JW is a man of few words and limited surprises. When chased by a pack of bodyguards he doesn't speed off in his Asshole Martian. He takes them out.

Bang bang! Bang bang bang! Rat-a-tat-tat! Reload.

He is wounded, but it makes no difference. He carries on.

Slowly but surely the wonder of moving pictures bleeds to death in the corner of your mind, like Mr Orange in Reservoir Dogs. James Bond may be fantasy but this is the Strictly Come Killing for a post torture generation.

"Do you feel damnation, John?", the Dick Van Shite of the crime syndicate asks.

"Yes," answers the man with the gun.

It doesn't get much better than this.

Wait! Here's another.

"You wanted me back," JW says. "I'm back."

Wow! Iconic?

You betcha bullet-proof breeks.