The Problem with Ms. Perkins in John Wick
John Wick is one of my favorite movies. Despite its modern setting and action, it is actually a story of deep mythic and archetypal resonance. It explores the themes of archetypal masculinity, focusing on the roles of the protector and the righteous avenger. The theme of righteous vengeance lies at the heart of many iconic tales: Hamlet, The Outlaw Josey Wales, Gladiator, and others. Deep down it is a meditation on masculine violence, its limits and appropriate outlets. It is a masculine tale of a very dangerous man who has chosen peace, but whose sanctity is violated, forcing him to once again draw his sword. Stories like this are powerful and satisfying.
There is a lot going on in the story, but one thing the film does especially well is present a contrast between false masculinity and true masculinity. The false version is embodied by Iosef, the Russian boss’s son who kills John’s dog. He drives around blasting rap music, being loud, trying to bully others and exert power. But deep down, Iosef has no power. It all comes from his father — his father’s men, his father’s money. He hasn’t earned it, and he doesn’t demonstrate any of the masculine virtues. Even his father, who is a decidedly evil man, displays more positive masculine traits. Iosef is starkly contrasted by John Wick, a quiet man who lets his actions speak, a man who does not brag or try to appear tough. He doesn’t need to create pretenses. He is a dangerous man under control.
While John Wick is in many ways an over-the-top action film, it also has moments of understated brilliance. One such moment is when John finally tracks down Iosef, the man who killed his dog — the last gift from his late wife, the thing that gave him some semblance of hope and peace. As John walks towards him, Iosef begins yelling: “It was just a f**king—” He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because John shoots him and walks away. It is a powerful moment. John silences the noise, the excuses, the voice that doesn’t even comprehend that he has trampled on something sacred. It’s visceral and satisfying. The character of Iosef is brilliantly written and acted; we hate him, and we want to see him pay.
Much of the movie is like this — except for one small part that has always stood out like an ugly wart on an otherwise beautiful work of art. That is the inclusion of Ms. Perkins.
Ms. Perkins is the female assassin who tries to kill John in his hotel room. Both the character and the scene are problematic for several reasons.
A Character Who Doesn’t Fit the Mythos
Ms. Perkins simply does not fit into the mythos of the story. At its heart, this is a masculine tale of vengeance. John Wick fights and kills probably hundreds of men throughout the movie. Ms. Perkins stands out as a singularity, and her character violates the world’s setting. Her presence is jarring and breaks the tone and mood established throughout the story. Imagine if in Fight Club there was suddenly a female fighter beating up Tyler Durden. The effect would be the same.
Breaking the Internal Logic of the World
If Ms. Perkins were truly a skilled and knowledgeable assassin, she would never attack John Wick, especially at the Continental. Remember Viggo, the Russian boss? He is terrified of John Wick and commands an entire army of thugs. He repeatedly says that John is not the boogeyman — he is the one you send to kill the boogeyman. Why would Ms. Perkins try to take John on by herself? And why in the Continental, where violating the rules means certain death? Her actions make her seem incredibly stupid, as though she doesn’t understand who John Wick is or the rules of the world. Everyone knows that the one man you do not mess with is John Wick. Yet Ms. Perkins decides to take him on, all on her own. It’s ridiculous.
The Incoherent Fight Scene
The fight itself feels like it belongs in a different movie. Every other fight John has is a demonstration of his absolute mastery of Judo and hand-to-hand combat. He dispatches men much stronger than him with ease, in seconds. Yet when he fights Ms. Perkins, he seems to forget all of this. He grapples awkwardly with her, fumbling around the room as if he doesn’t know how to fight. He behaves as though she is stronger than he is, even though he easily overcomes men much larger than her. This breaks the established strength and legend of John Wick. Here is a man who clears rooms of armed men, and suddenly he struggles against someone obviously smaller and weaker. The fight feels like a corny trope from a low-quality action film, rather than the precise, mythic choreography seen elsewhere.
The Problematic Mercy
Then comes the chivalrous moment: John spares Ms. Perkins. Every other person who tries to kill him is executed without mercy or hesitation. But because Ms. Perkins is an attractive woman, the writers didn’t want him to kill her. It’s as if they’re trying to portray her as the innocent female, but one can’t have it both ways. Either she is a deadly assassin or she isn’t. In The Outlaw Josey Wales, the hero spares the innocent female, connecting him back to his humanity. But sparing Ms. Perkins doesn’t make sense here. We aren’t supposed to notice her sex. She is a foe, like any other. Why would John Wick spare someone actively trying to kill him? It breaks the logic of the movie and contradicts everything we know about his character.
A Pointless Character with a Pointless Death
Ms. Perkins feels like a shoehorned addition to check a box. It’s as if the writers realized she didn’t fit the story and had her killed off in a bland, forgettable scene (since they couldn’t have John kill her). This is a cheap copout and lacks artistic integrity. Her death lacks weight and significance. The movie would have been tighter without her inclusion.
A Betrayal of the Mythic Tone
In sum, Ms. Perkins’ character is a violation of the film’s authenticity. It’s a betrayal of the mythic and archetypal exploration of masculinity, revenge, and redemption that the film otherwise embodies. Mythic storytelling gains its power from echoing the deepest parts of our souls, drawing on ancient traditions. It must remain true to its own vision, not compromise to check boxes or mock its own seriousness. When it does, it breaks the spell, reducing the story to a mere sequence of events instead of a true myth.
A Better Alternative
If the filmmakers wanted a strong female character, there are many ways this could have been incorporated while remaining true to the mythos that they had established. For instance, they could have made her the owner of the Continental — an older woman wielding a different kind of power. This would have been far more interesting and fitting, echoing the ancient myths of the priestess and the sanctity of feminine space. This would have added a mythic undercurrent for this place of peace and sanctity, a feminine balm to the excessive masculine violence. We do get a glimpse of the sacred feminine space when John watches the video of him at peace with his wife. They stand by the sea—itself a powerful feminine symbol. This archetype could have been mirrored later by the priestess running the Continental, offering perhaps a glimpse of peace after vengeance. Such a character would have added depth and authenticity, serving the narrative instead of disrupting it.
