Watch 1995’s Johnny Mnemonic before it leaves Netflix on June 30

Keanu Reeves has not traditionally been an actor you hire to chew the scenery. If you want a big, flashy, attention-getting performance, you want a Nicolas Cage or maybe a Rami Malek: someone who can rant madly with the whites of his eyes showing. Reeves is more of a dependable workhorse you build a movie around, and who reliably befriends the entire crew. There’s nothing wrong with that. Different people have different skills.

That being said, there are a few roles where Reeves gets to play against type, such as Johnny Silverhand in Cyberpunk 2077, his brief role in Always Be My Maybe, or the 1995 action film Johnny Mnemonic, which is currently scheduled to leave Netflix on June 30.

Loosely based on a short story of the same name by seminal cyberpunk author William Gibson (Neuromancer, The Peripheral), Johnny Mnemonic follows a “data courier” (Reeves) who’s paid to securely transport information via a hard drive implanted in his brain. This is a dangerous gig under the best of circumstances, and Johnny’s latest run is further complicated by the data package being larger than his brainware can safely handle.

When the job goes bad, Johnny is stranded in New Jersey with dead clients, no allies, an overloaded drive, and no way to download the data. If he can’t get the information out of his head in a few days’ time, he’ll suffer fatal brain damage — if a squad of yakuza doesn’t decapitate him first. That forces Johnny to team up with cyborg mercenary Jane (habitually underrated Starship Troopers star Dina Meyer) in search of a black-market solution.

As a movie, Johnny Mnemonic is in conversation with other quietly dystopian works of the ’90s like Total Recall and Strange Days. Its version of the future is set in either upscale hotels or industrial ruin, with no middle ground; everything is either scrupulously clean, such as Johnny himself, or a pile of decay. In 2026, it’s worth wondering just how much of Johnny Mnemonic‘s visual identity would go on to inform later cyberpunk works such as Altered Carbon.

That push-pull between cleanliness and rot is what leads to that one scene in Johnny Mnemonic that goes viral for a minute whenever someone sees it for the first time. It’s a moment near the end of the movie where, after barely surviving an attack from a crazed assassin known only as the Street Preacher, Johnny suddenly blows his entire stack. It’s Reeves at his most gleefully Cage-ian, ranting about responsibility and selfishness for a weirdly spellbinding 90 seconds. In 1995, this was a weird digression in what was an otherwise intense movie. Now, it’s a rare look at Reeves freaking out, which is truly fun to watch.

If you’ve seen the movie before, say it with me: “I WANT ROOM SERVICE!”

That’s a hilarious scene and it’s worth the time to watch, but this isn’t a full-fledged recommendation. On its own merits, Johnny Mnemonic is a bit of a mess, with a surprisingly complicated production history.

Long story short: Johnny was supposed to be a low-budget art film made by Gibson himself and painter turned first-time director Robert Longo. They wanted $1.5 million to shoot it. Instead, they somehow ended up with $30 million, a barely recognizable Dolph Lundgren as the Street Preacher, and extensive studio meddling.

The result feels a little like a kid wearing his father’s suit. Johnny Mnemonic has the soul of an arthouse indie and the production values of a ’90s action caper, with a star-studded cast (Takeshi Kitano, Ice-T, Henry Rollins, Lundgren) and a story that’s too complicated by half. Audiences in the ’90s didn’t know what to make of it, and while it made a little money, critics worked it over.

Rewatching it now, Johnny Mnemonic can be incoherent, but it’s never boring. There are quality kills, techno-cults, rogue AIs, and shockingly elaborate sets, all built around Reeves as a non-action star who’s never not in over his (endangered, leaking) head. It’s worth taking a couple of hours out of your evening and watching Johnny Mnemonic this weekend before it leaves Netflix. If it grabs you, despite its faults, check out Longo’s recent black-and-white extended cut on Blu-Ray.