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It’s been an unlikely arc, but fans of Reeves always knew he had it in him. He showcased his gift for the dramatic in “My Own Private Idaho” (1991) and his talent for comedy through the “Bill & Ted” movies (1989, 1991). Then came “Speed” (1994), which proved that Reeves could carry a catalytic action movie while showcasing an accessible brand of vulnerability (at least to those not acquainted with 1991’s “Point Break”). Reeves went on to spend the nineties in roles ranging from serious to romantic to questionable (here’s looking at you, “The Devil’s Advocate”) before closing out the millennium with “The Matrix.” Maybe you’ve heard of it.

As Neo, a computer hacker-turned-world-saviour, Reeves added yet another dimension to an actor who clearly refused to discriminate against roles. Scrolling through his filmography, you’d be pressed to find a creative lull; it’s a resume rich in diversity, originality and cameos (it’s in everyone’s best interest to watch Key & Peele’s 2016 parody, “Keanu,” in which Reeves plays himself; a kitten co-stars). Ultimately, it reads like the life and career of a man who’s unafraid of having fun, and in an oft humourless and self-serious industry, this is a particularly refreshing quality to exude.

Sure, you may have skipped over “The Lake House” (2006) or “The Private Lives of Pippa Lee” (2009), but especially since he stepped into “John Wick,” Reeves has been joyfully present in our cultural discourse; a willing participant in a climate rife with cynicism and ridicule. He shows up for interviews ready and willing to share. He respects and pays service to the roles that earned him a place on the map (see: “Bill & Ted”’s 2020 instalment).

And even when in 2010, Reeves jumped at the chance to explain to Stephen Colbert — 11 years later — that he was caught in a moment of genuine hunger. What’s more relatable than that?

But while relatability is certainly a form of social currency, Reeves refrains from pandering. He’s avoided falling prey to trends, oversharing for the sake of sound bites, or risking overexposure via publicity stunts. He’s found lasting success by creating the career he wants and prioritizing his personhood over celebrity. He’s created a life that most of us would aspire to if we found ourselves in a position where people paid us to be in movies.

This is what makes the gigantic success of John Wick so satisfying. In the spirit of sleeper hits like “Taken,” the plot of the original “John Wick” is relatively simple: a widowed man avenges his dog’s death by wreaking havoc on his enemies.

However, where the “Taken” franchise and its counterparts have descended into parodies of themselves, “John Wick” has enough heart to adhere viewers to the man and his mission. Wick’s M.O. may be simple but his intentions are far from it: he grapples with grief, mortality and the decisions responsible for leading him to his current situation. While any actor can try their hand at stunts and action tropes, few can bring soul to a franchise defined by fight scenes and vendettas. A complex character like Wick deserves a complex actor like Reeves. This role wouldn’t work as well for an actor unwilling to diversify himself through experience, nor one too busy courting the Oscar vote to appear in rom-coms like “Something’s Gotta Give” or “Call Me Maybe.”

Reeves may be having fun, but he still honours his roles by taking them all seriously.

In fact, the real surprise here is that anyone ever doubted Reeves’ unstoppable staying power. Still: $73.5 million. As the eternally humble superstar might put it himself, “Whoa.”