Third film bloat is real. Bigger budgets command flashier cast lists requiring longer runtimes to accommodate — everything gets fatter. Just look at that title. An articulated lorry of a designation. Even when the film redeems its crippling first half with a rousing finale, it suffers from excess — fights that just go on and on and on, the most egregious being that with Asian superfan Zero and concomitant henchmen. Lest anyone think I’m Wick bashing for no reason, let’s run through its predecessors. John Wick succeeded as a one-trick pony with a great trick, John Wick 2 rolled with the worldbuilding the first hinted at and expanded it into JK Rowling’s Assassinating World™. Both surprised you, even delighted you. Both were, despite the delirious violence, tight, disciplined films. Now the surprise is gone — where once its all-camera-no-cuts action was a remarkable innovation, now it’s an all-too familiar reflex. That leaves a baggy, saggy threequel that might occasionally remind you of its former glories, but not nearly often enough. Review exemplar: Halle Berry.