Proof that Keanu Reeves is a good actor: “Most powerful when film is at its most elemental”
Throughout his career, Keanu Reeves has gone from being one of the most beloved men in Hollywood to one of the most maligned on more than one occasion. For those fans who have only known him for the last decade or so, where he’s been busting blocks as John Wick and regularly illustrating how he’s a swell guy in real life, it might be hard to imagine people looking down on Reeves. But there have been periods when the star couldn’t buy a hit at the box office. Even worse, when he tried to expand his horizons and make films outside his comfort zone, he was widely derided. Just ask anyone who was around when he attempted an English accent in Bram Stoker’s Dracula or butchered Shakespeare in Much Ado About Nothing.
Naturally, these misfires, coupled with a public persona tied for the longest time to his beloved role as the dimwitted but good-natured Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan in the Bill and Ted movies, contributed to a persistent impression that Reeves is a lousy actor. In fact, you’ll still encounter plenty of cinephiles who may say they like Reeves and many of his movies yet will still tar him with the “bad actor” brush. Is this true, though? Is Reeves actually a “bad” actor? And if not, is there proof that he is, in fact, a “good” actor?
I’d argue there’s plenty of evidence that Keanu Reeves is a good actor. In fact, any mistaken belief that he isn’t likely stems from a flawed understanding of what “acting” truly entails. When discussing the best actors, we often default to naming those who have demonstrated the broadest range in their careers. These exceptional performers seem capable of embodying anyone, from any era, in any situation—bringing authenticity, emotional depth, and realism to each role. When we think of “good” actors in the classical sense, names like Brando, Streep, DiCaprio, and Day-Lewis naturally come to mind.
Is Reeves an actor who is in any way similar to Meryl Streep or Daniel Day-Lewis? No. As I’ve already alluded to, when Reeves has tried to shake things up a bit, he’s often fallen flat on his face. However, just because Reeves is unlikely to find himself vying with Day-Lewis for the next historical biopic that will require him to spend eight months living as a 19th-century blacksmith, it doesn’t necessarily make him a bad actor. OK, Reeves doesn’t tend to transform before our very eyes in his roles, but that ties into exactly why this “bad” actor has thrived in Hollywood for so long. Reeves doesn’t need to transform – he understands that actors can do a lot with a little in the cinematic medium, and when he gets it right, he nails it.
In Anjelica Jade Bastien’s 2016 piece ‘The Grace of Keanu Reeves’, Bastien argues, “Keanu’s power lies not in transformation or the ability to wrap his mouth around clever word play. No, Keanu is at his most powerful when film is at its most elemental.” In truth, in Reeves’ best performances in the likes of Speed, The Matrix, John Wick, and My Own Private Idaho, he demonstrates “immense screen presence and a keen understanding of communicating story through physicality…A simple glance or curled lip can unfurl lengthy character history or upend expectations.”
A great example of Reeves’ low-key power and gift with physical characterisation is the climactic scene of his 2005 comic book thriller Constantine – and I think it’s the perfect evidence of him being one of the best at what he does. In this sequence, Reeves’ supernatural detective has slashed his own wrists to draw his nemesis Lucifer – yes, the Devil himself – into trying to take his soul to Hell. However, John Constantine isn’t just a surly, chain-smoking exorcist – he’s also a great con man, and he’s tricked Lucifer, who can’t claim his soul thanks to a cosmic loophole. Then, right as Constantine is ascending to the pearly gates, Lucifer saves his life – by viciously plunging his hands into the man’s convulsing body and ripping the dripping black cancer from his lungs. This means Constantine will live, and the Devil can claim his soul another day.
Naturally, this is an incredibly heightened, far-fetched scene, and it’s easy to imagine other actors overplaying it. Not Reeves, though. He plays it sleepily and detached – mostly because his character’s life is draining but with a low, gravelly, almost Eastwood-esque delivery. There’s something at work behind his eyes, though, which is why the dialogue with Peter Stormare’s Beelzebub has such a charge to it. It never feels like Reeves is trying to make Constantine “cool”, either. If anything, the scene shows a complete lack of vanity, as the detective looks like a drowned rat, complete with crooked teeth and flop sweat. With every inflexion, though, Reeves makes you believe that this guy would stare the Devil in the face, try his best not to flinch, and flip him off while floating towards Heaven.
Would a bad actor really be able to pull that scene off? I think not.
