Keanu RULES!
- 1 day ago
- 7 min read
Oh man…Keanu. I am not embarrassed to say that I absolutely love Keanu Reeves. There was a long, snarky period where it was hip to hate on the guy. All of the cheap jokes, the “whoa” memes, the theater-kid eye rolls (and I come from theater, I’ve done the storefront thing, wrote and directed plays, I know the vibe).
He was always the easy punchline at actor parties. I never bought it. I’ve defended Keanu since the very beginning and I’ll keep doing it. Do some roles stretch him past his range? Sure. Has he made some clunkers? Oh baby, yes.
But here’s the thing: the guy is consistently good at movies. He’s a rock-solid screen presence, a terrific physical performer, and when the material meets his frequency (emotion held like a secret, stillness charged with purpose) he’s electric.
Also, and this matters to me, he seems like an actually good human being. Philanthropic, generous, gentle, no-nonsense kindness. He’s had a rough life; he doesn’t make a show of it. He cares. That counts.
And while we’re clearing the decks: accents, Shakespeare, corsets, yeah, he’s not built for the “my lord” cadence and the brocade, and some early-career stuff is rough.
Much Ado About Nothing…oof. Bram Stoker’s Dracula…come on. Dangerous Liaisons...awful (but EVERYONE was awful in that thing). Babes in Toyland (the Christmas special)…we’ve all got fossils in the closet.
I can rattle off the bad and the blah: The Night Before, The Prince of Pennsylvania, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Chain Reaction, Feeling Minnesota, The Watcher (the infamous “did-a-favor, got burned” one), the joyless The Day the Earth Stood Still remake, Replicas—yikes.
But then there are the interesting near-misses where he’s the best thing in a not-great movie: he’s genuinely funny in Destination Wedding, compelling in A Walk in the Clouds, good-weird in The Devil’s Advocate, quietly moving in Hardball (shot right here in Chicago), and way back in Youngblood (he played hockey... of course he did, he’s Canadian), he pops.
He even shows up to rock in Parenthood (a movie I can’t stand) and I Love You to Death (messy), and he still steals the movies because Keanu’s timing, and his deadpan with a side of sincerity, just works.
And the man was ahead of the curve on cyberpunk. Before The Matrix rewired our brains, he tried to drag William Gibson’s nightmares into multiplexes with Johnny Mnemonic. Didn’t land, but the curiosity was there, complete with the Philip K. Dick anxiety, the neon dread.
Years later: boom, destiny meets directors and we get The Matrix and the most influential sci-fi action film of the last quarter-century. That collaboration unlocked everything: training, fight grammar, stunt language.
It leads straight to John Wick, where he turns economy-of-motion into poetry. And between those bookends, he keeps chasing martial-arts and East-meets-West filmmaking the honest way, acting in 47 Ronin, then directing the admirably pure Man of Tai Chi. This is a guy who does the work.
Also: the music. I like Dogstar. I’ve seen them live. He’s a good bass player, the band’s legit, and that interesting chapter has always been a joy.
And you know I’m a sucker for voice work: Keanu’s become a stealth MVP in animation: gloriously Canadian as Duke Caboom in Toy Story 4, dry as desert air as Batman in DC League of Super-Pets, and recently chewing villainy as Shadow the Hedgehog in Sonic 3.
He even lent his voice to Key and Peele for a kitten named…Keanu. That’s a man with a sense of humor about himself.
But here’s why we’re doing this right now: his terrific, uplifting, flat-out entertaining new movie Good Fortune (he’s magnificent in it, a literal guardian angel), and because he’s currently on Broadway (!) starring in Waiting for Godot with Alex Winter (Bill & Ted reunion vibes, but Beckett-bleak and brave).
That makes my theater heart swell. Keanu on a bare stage letting silence do the talking... this is the arc I love. From “dude” to Neo to Baba Yaga to Estragon, now that’s a career.
Keanu Charles Reeves, born in Beirut on September 2, 1964; raised in Toronto; English mum, Hawaiian/Chinese/Portuguese/English dad; hockey goalie dreams (very good one, too) detoured by injury; leaf-blown through multiple schools (dyslexia, rambunctious), lands in acting at 15, hits CBC gigs, commercials, stage, then the movies.
Feature debut in Youngblood (1986), indie street-poet cred with River’s Edge and My Own Private Idaho, then pop-culture ignition with the Bill & Ted films (the sweetness of Ted “Theodore” Logan is the seed of everything people love about him).
Action chops hardened by Point Break and Speed. Image rehab? He never cared. He just kept showing up, kept being…him.
Then the big bang: The Matrix trilogy (then Resurrections), Constantine skulking in the margins, a decade of wandering, and finally the assassin aria of John Wick (still ongoing, still exquisite).
In between: voice acting, video games (Cyberpunk 2077’s Johnny Silverhand), comics (co-creating BRZRKR), bikes (ARCH Motorcycle), producing (Company Films), a public image so humble he somehow became the Internet’s human comfort blanket.
Time 100 (2022). The New York Times calling him one of the best actors of the 21st century (ranked fourth). The man just…keeps…going.
Look, Keanu’s not about range in the showy sense; he’s about commitment, rhythm, physical storytelling, and a guileless sincerity that sneaks up on you.
When the camera loves you for who you are, not what you can pretend to be, that’s a rarer gift than people admit.
And for decades he’s aimed that gift at stories that changed the way we shoot action, the way we choreograph violence, the way we think about identity and choice and grief.
He’s also, by most accounts, a sweetheart who gives back and doesn’t make a production out of it. I’m proud to have been Team Keanu from day one.
So, in honor of Good Fortune lighting up theaters and Keanu taking a bow on Broadway with Alex Winter, I’ve pulled together 15 notable Keanu Reeves movies, not ranked, but chronological.
The arc from scruffy kid to pop-culture myth, the detours, the stumbles, the reinventions, the miracles. He’s not the lead in all of them, but he matters in every one.
NOTE: This list does NOT include any of The Matrix films, the Bill and Ted adventures, or the John Wick movies on this list, because we ALL know that those are great.
Early, icy, unnerving. Keanu’s got that blank, wounded stare that perfectly fits the moral rot of the story. A rough-edged teen drama that announces he can do quiet intensity without the movie begging you to notice.
A weird and lovely little radio-comedy curio that lets Keanu be charming and light on his feet. It’s fizzy and endearing, and he glides through it with that earnest, off-center sweetness that critics pretended not to see in him.
Spiritual cinema. Reeves and Swayze surfing existentialism while Kathryn Bigelow invents a new way to shoot adrenaline. Keanu’s “Utah” is beautifully square and fully committed, and it's one of the best action movies ever made.
A tender, sad poem. Gus Van Sant gives him Shakespeare by way of street asphalt, and Keanu answers with restraint and grace. He’s the cool surface to River Phoenix’s raw nerve, the perfect counterpoint. 1991 was a stellar year for Keanu.
Movie-star ignition. The hair’s cropped, the jaw’s set, and the camera finally understands what to do with his physical confidence. He’s all presence and problem-solving, and it’s glorious popcorn perfection.
Southern-gothic grime where Keanu gets mean and surprisingly scary. He dirties up the aura, leans into menace, and reminds everyone he’s not just “the nice guy." He is glorious in this Sam Raimi gem.
Sneaky good romantic support turn. Against Nicholson and Keaton’s fireworks, Keanu plays the doctor with a real pulse, kind eyes, and genuine warmth. This is proof he can glow in a classy grown-up comedy, and steal a movie from film legends.
Gentle indie vibes. He underplays a New Age-y dentist with a calm, wry touch that keeps the movie buoyant. It’s the rare “supporting Keanu” that steals scenes without raising his voice. One of my very favorite Keanu performances.
Cigarette smoke, neon hellfire, deadpan swagger. Maybe not the comics purists’ exact version, but Keanu’s weary exorcist is a beautiful fit: laconic, precise, carrying grief like armor. A great, criminally underappreciated film.
Rotoscoped paranoia with the soul of a hangover. Keanu’s muted, melancholy center makes the druggy spiral feel human. It’s Dick-lit dread filtered through that calm, sad timbre he does so well. It's a beautiful, heartbreaking performance in an unforgettable film.
Hard-bitten cop noir where his stoicism plays as brittle rage barely contained. The movie is terrific, unfairly overlooked, and underrated. Reeves grounds it with blunt force and those dead-eyed pauses that say more than monologues.
Eli Roth's home-invasion nastiness that turns Keanu's “nice guy” energy inside out. He goes big, sweaty, humiliated, and it works. There’s a perverse, midnight-movie thrill in watching him unravel.
Refn’s glossy, brilliant, masterful nightmare. Keanu pops in like a razor blade, he is sleazy, predatory, unforgettable. Five minutes, maximum discomfort. Proof he can leave a bruise with an incredible cameo. I adore this crazy-ass movie, and Reeves is unforgettable in it.
Self-parody masterclass. He plays “Keanu Reeves” as an enlightened, pretentious hurricane and detonates the movie with joy. Comic timing for days; the restaurant scene is instant classic.
Duke Caboom! O, Canada! The voice role he was born to do: earnest, ridiculous, heroic in slow motion. He wrings every laugh from a single “Yes I Can-ada!” and somehow makes it heartfelt.
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