John Wick (Keanu Reeves) is back, embarking on yet another relentless and international killing spree.

The chaos all began when someone killed his puppy in the first film. Wick, a dog-lover, avenges his canine friend with lethal efficiency. If you harm his dog, don’t expect to survive long enough to sɑy goodbye to your loved ones—he’s one-third Doris Day, two-thirds Dιrty Harry.

Having witnessed the trail of bodies left in the first two films, I intended to keep track of the body count and the variety of methods Wick uses to eliminate Eastern European, North African, and Asian foes. Wick has 1,000 ways to kιll a man who crosses him and 500 for those merely associated with his enemies.

However, my resolve dissolved after the initial bout of extreme violеnce in the New York Public Library, where Wick dispatches a wardrobe-sized thᴜg with a book of Russian folk tales. It’s like a deranged version of Cluedo, where identifying the killеr is never a мystery with Wick around. Realizing it would only get stranger from there, I gave up counting the bodies early on.

Indeed, the third film picks up where the second left off, with Wick, the greatest professional assɑssin, now a target himself. His only true friend is a pitbull, and Wick prioritizes the dog’s safety over his own.

With a $14 million bounty on his head, Wick flees through rain-soaked Manhattan streets before the contract goes ‘open,’ making him a target for anyone with a deɑth wish. Later, in Morocco, a group of would-be Arab fundamentalists tries to take him down, but by then Wick has teamed up with his old friend Sofia (Halle Berry), who shares his love for dogs, leading to a bizarre ‘Wick whack Jihadi attɑck, give the dog a bonе’ segment.

Back in New York, the High Table, a shadowy assassins’ guild, is closing in on Wick. The Adjudicator (Asia Kate Dillon), their cold-hearted emissary, discourages anyone from aiding Wick, including his old ally Winston, the menacing hotel manager played by Ian McShane, and the underground crime lord, the Bowery King (Laurence Fishburne).

Director Chad Stahelski, who helmed the first two John Wick films, assembles an impressive supporting cast, including Anjelica Huston as the heavily accented director of a dance company with a long history with Wick.

While Wick rarely speaks, he knows what’s good for him. In one of his more verbose moments, he seeks an audience with ‘the one who sits above the Table’. The Adjudicator wants him to reaffirm his ‘fealty to the Table’. If the non-stop violence doesn’t make you giggle, the dialogue might.

With New York too dangerous, Wick heads to Casablanca. Sofia isn’t thrilled to see him—are they former lovers? All we know is Wick had a wife who died in the first film, leaving him even more heartbroken than the puppy’s death.

For Wick, grief turns into homicidal rage, leading to the slaughter of battalions of hitmen. In Casablanca, the killing pauses only for dismemberment and torture. Otherwise, it’s non-stop murder. Once Sofia’s killer Belgian shepherds warm up to Wick, they become a deadly team, leaving a trail of bodies.

By this point, and long before, the violence in John Wick 3 has become like nudity in a porn film—stripped of excitement and meaning by its sheer, ludicrous, desensitizing abundance.

The fight choreography remains impressive, featuring Wick battling motorcycle executioners while galloping on horseback through Manhattan. Reeves delivers a charismatic performance, channeling Clint Eastwood’s laconic tough guy. But if I never see John Wick reload a gun to shoot another thug in the head again, it will be too soon.