The Punisher

What the hell was Marvel thinking? It was bad enough that they resurrected The Punisher (The Least Endearing Comic Book Hero Ever) to cash in on the Vietnam vigilante nostalgia of the pure market Reaganite ’80s, but to give him another movie? Wasn’t the 1989 Dolph Lundgren version insufferable enough? Jubilee, Aquaman, Ghost Rider, just about any of these lesser graphic lame ducks would have been more deserving of the big screen treatment. One can only presume the shut-ins who run things were blinded by all that Spiderman dosh, or that they somehow imagined post 9/11 America was eager for another big, dumb meathead with no comprehension of due process blasting the shit out of everything.
And so, we get The Punisher, a right-wing anti-hero that makes Rambo look like a Guardian reader, and The Green Berets look like The Green Party. If you’re unfamiliar with the comic-book – well, lucky old you – the eponymous fascist starts out as Frank Castle (Tom Jane), a special ops chap who loses his wife and son when evil nemesis John Travolta goes on a vengeful rampage. Hence, Castle becomes The Punisher. And what a transformation! His costume is a maggoty T-shirt. His special powers involve bench-pressing and an arsenal sufficient to overthrow most Latin American governments. And, er, that’s it really.
As he brutally stabs and bludgeons his foes – mainly homosexuals and foreigners – he mumbles psychotic mantras such as, “It is necessary to act outside the law, to pursue natural justice.” If that were the case, someone surely would have prevented Travolta’s sub- Battlefield Earth performance, a masterclass in ludicrous, operatic villainy. True to form, there’s a whole lot of huffing, puffing, grimacing and taking the big, fat cheque. If that wasn’t quite cringe-making enough, the film also lines up some friendly neighbours for our hulking hero, and reader, I just can’t bring myself to tell you just how ghastly and twee they are.
Granted, there’s one decent Lethal Weapon-styled comedy fight sequence between Castle and a large Russian gentleman, and the brooding Mr. Jane manages to look more chiselled than the statue of David, but a re-make of Commando would have been more fun, not to mention more politically enlightened. Come back Vin Diesel, all is forgiven.