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Lance Reddick’s ‘John Wick: Chapter 4’ Farewell Does the Late Actor Dirty

Photo Illustration by Erin O’Flynn/The Daily Beast/Lionsgate, Pixabay and Getty Images
Photo Illustration by Erin O’Flynn/The Daily Beast/Lionsgate, Pixabay and Getty Images

Lance Reddick made everything better, whether co-starring as Baltimore police lieutenant Cedric Daniels in HBO’s The Wire, as Homeland Security special agent Phillip Broyles in Fox’s Fringe, or even as a variety of Albert Wexler clones in Netflix’s otherwise lame Resident Evil.

A man of imposing stature whose deep, smooth voice exuded authority and menace in any register, and whose intimidating presence didn’t preclude him from also exuding poised, compassionate calm, the 60-year-old actor was a welcome sight in any film or television show. Thus, his untimely death last week at a too-young age hit the entertainment world—and his many fans—particularly hard.

<div class="inline-image__credit">Photo by Lionsgate</div>
Photo by Lionsgate

While Reddick may be gone, he nonetheless returns to movie screens this weekend in John Wick: Chapter 4, the epic latest installment in Keanu Reeves’ hitman franchise, once again assuming the part of Charon, the dapper concierge at New York City’s swanky assassin hotel, the Continental.

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Taking advantage of his suave stylishness, his composed cool, and his ability to suggest daunting might with a polite smile, it’s a small but memorable role that’s helped bring the Baltimore native to the attention of a wider audience. Alongside Ian McShane as Continental manager Winston, Reddick has lent the series an additional measure of chic, methodical muscularity, and in return he’s received a mainstream platform fit for his considerable talents.

‘The Wire’ Star Lance Reddick Dies at 60

Which is why it’s so disheartening to discover that, for all its superlative attributes, John Wick: Chapter 4 does Reddick dirty.

(Warning: Spoilers ahead.)

Reeves’ fourth outing as the well-dressed executioner is a dizzying bonanza of bullets, nunchucks, car crashes, and bloodshed, leaning so heavily into larger-than-life spectacle (replete with nods to Lawrence of Arabia, Barry Lyndon, and The Warriors) that it ably earns its 169 minutes. What it doesn’t do, however, is evenly spread the love.