Review: Punisher: War Zone

Punisher: War Zone

OPENING: 12/05/2008

STUDIO: Lionsgate

TRAILER: Trailer

ACCOMPLICES: Official Site

The Charge
Vengeance has a name.

Opening Statement
In every measurable way, Punisher: War Zone is a superior film to The Punisher, Marvel’s previous attempt back in 2004 to indoctrinate vigilante anti-hero Frank Castle into the cinematic ranks, but that’s only because The Punisher was terrible.

From top to bottom a ridiculous venture into 1980s-style action films starring brutish men named Sly, Arnold or Jean-Claude, Punisher: War Zone reeks machismo, corn and an absurdly high body count. It is a throwback to action films of two decades ago, where films didn’t need to have good scripts, good acting or realistic physics to kill a whole lot of people.

Facts of the Case
Years after watching his family gunned down in the park by mobsters, Frank Castle (Ray Stevenson, Rome) re-emerges as The Punisher, a shadowy figure of vengeance who strikes back at crime where they live, and doles out corporal punishment. He lives off the grid, having abandoned all of his former life, and devotes his entire life to punishing the guilty, wherever they may be. Slowly, methodically, he takes down mob family after mob family, leaving naught but an endless stream of mutilated bodies in his wake. The police have him down as a criminal, but devote only minimal resources to “catching” Castle, secretly approving of his harsh tactics. He can do what they only dream of.

After eliminating a notorious mobster kingpin who recently beat a prison rap and walked away a free man, Castle focuses his attentions on Billy Russoti (Dominic West, The Wire), an up-and-coming figure in the mob. Unfortunately for Castle, the FBI already had their sites set on Russoti, and had an undercover agent deep in the organization. Frank takes out the crew, sending Russoti headfirst into some nasty industrial machinery, mangling his features, but also unknowingly puts a bullet into the FBI agent, killing him. Once Castle realizes his mistake, his entire quest for vengeance comes into question. He’s done the unthinkable, killed one of the good guys. How can he continue?

Bad timing for Castle to have an existential crisis. Russoti survives his run-in with The Punisher, but not without cost. Now horribly scarred and mangled, he renames himself Jigsaw and sets his sights onto securing control of the city’s underworld. Castle tries to hang up his guns for good, but once he learns that Jigsaw has set his sights onto the widow of the FBI agent he gunned down (Julie Benz, Dexter) he vows to protect her at all costs.

The Evidence
One needs not have read the endless bad press lambasting Punisher: War Zone during its inception and production to realize that some horrible things have gone on behind the scenes. A rough outline of a decent film exists somewhere in the rubble, but so much has been compromised it is difficult to tell what (if any) original vision remained intact. Perhaps the original vision of the film was just plain terrible, and third parties stepped in desperate to rescue the film from itself. It’s hard to say. All that matters really is the end result, which is flaming garbage.

It’s like some freaky celluloid mash-up: The Punisher meets Bad Eighties Action Film. In every way, Ray Stevenson is perfectly suited for the cold, callous Castle: barely any dialogue, steely gaze, looks bad ass in black. He pulls off the part better than any actor so far. Every moment he is on camera, Punisher: War Zone excels and tempts viewers with a dark, brutal take on the character, like Garth Ennis’ recent run on Punisher MAX. Unfortunately for Frank, he’s been dropped into a bad Steven Seagal movie from the late eighties, full of foolish characters, corny dialogue, bulletproof physics and bullet-ridden plots. It’s a shame, really. The wasted potential here is almost tragic.

When it’s just Frank being sullen in his cave-like lair, loading and cleaning his guns, things feel right. We get it. We get the tragedy, the almost perverse level of insanity that drives this lunatic to murder villains night after night. In a way, it’s hard to fault a film for delivering exactly what it promises to: a freaky body count set to nu-metal music. Punisher: War Zone is a triumph of excess, of bad action cliches, seas of red, brains, guts and hewn limbs flying through the air. Castle is a one-man wrecking crew, and the people who get wrecked are everyone in his way. It’s a terrible film from start to finish, but you have to appreciate the straightforward, unpretentious honesty that it sets about its task of murdering hundreds of people. Then the film spoils it by giving him sidekicks: Newman from Seinfeld, a six year-old girl, a bumbling police officer, and a seemingly unending string of horrible villains to tustle with. Ugh.

I really can’t say enough about how bad the acting is here. The dialogue does not flow so much as it tumbles, like large crates dropped unceremoniously from an airplane, smashing into the ground tens of thousands of feet below. If some of these faces weren’t immediately recognizable from their previous acting work, you would be convinced director Lexi Alexander simply grabbed random non-actors off the street, gave them a script and started filming. Dominic West as Jigsaw may very well be the worst performance put to screen this year. An Australian man effecting a bad mob accent (is it Irish or Italian?) transformed into a poor man’s Joker from The Dark Knight, West annihilates all the critical acclaim he gained from HBO’s The Wire. I’m ashamed, frankly. It’s that bad.

Three Punisher films later (yes, the one from the 1980s counts) and we are left with a conundrum. There’s so much potential in the franchise. So why can’t anyone get it right? Punisher: War Zone gets the brutality down pat, the tortured Frank Castle, sitting alone in his lair, polishing his guns, trying to find some sense of righteousness in a world gone mad. It absolutely ruins every other moment. You’d have to assemble one hell of a director’s cut to salvage this train wreck, one that edits every other person right out of the film save for Stevenson and his guns.

Closing Statement
Watching Punisher: War Zone is like the cinematic equivilant of binge drinking. It sounds fun, but deep in your heart, you know it’s a horribly self-destructive way to spend a Friday evening. You go anyway, you have a lot of fun, your brain cells degenerate into protoplasmic goo, and you spend the next day drinking lots of water, shaking your aching head and muttering promises that you will never, ever be so stupid again.

The Verdict
Punisher: War Zone is a dreadful film in all measurable aspects, save for sheer body count. This one can wait for rental.

5/10

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