Film Reviews


By • Apr 16th, 2004 •

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One man, who’s lost every human connection he has in the world, sees no other option for himself but to hunt down and destroy the men who have taken from him everything that he knows and loves. And when he’s done with that, he’ll go after anyone that has ever taken what isn’t theirs, anyone who has ever hurt anyone else. He will seek justice through punishment. He will use every lesson he’s ever learned as a soldier, he will use evil men’s own tactics against them, he will be a force of nature limited only by his own will and rage. He will not stop until there are none of them left. He is no longer a man, no longer human: he is The Punisher.


One man, who loves his family more than anything, finds his life destroyed when that same family is slaughtered before him and he is left for dead. Somehow he survives a point-blank gunshot directly to the chest, home of many important arteries and life-sustaining tissues, and seeks vengeance for his family and for himself, pausing to deliver a clever quip to the Lonely Island Witch Doctor that has nursed him back to health and who has but two lines of dialogue, but never mind, he’s a Lonely Island Witch Doctor, and stoic: “God’s gonna sit this one out.” He then, apparently, transports himself to a fully-stocked-with-more-weapons-than-a-militia apartment, buys a sweet muscle car that he begins to customize with all that money he got from his own life insurance policy, I suppose, or maybe he just visited the afterlife long enough to learn the trick of maintaining living expenses and procuring weapons and vehicles while still maintaining his anonymity. Did I say anonymity? A Punisher needs not anonymity. Why pursue a one-man crusade against crime in the shadows, effectively using the element of surprise and even keeping the Bad Guys on their toes (after all, The Punisher could be ANYbody, where would the Bad Guys even start to look?) when I can just tell the entire world, on live television and directly to my former FBI bosses, that I’m alive and well and wandering around fit as a fiddle? Surely the FBI wouldn’t want to follow me or ask me questions or bother me in any way whatsoever, since they’re so sorry my family’s dead and all. What a nice federal organization. So thoughtful. Since my soul is so calloused and angst-ridden, the only thing that will quell my constant anguish are well-placed and well-lit bottles of Wild Turkey. And I will be charmed, despite myself, by the sitcom characters–I mean–neighbors, that live down the hall. And we will have many laughs, only I won’t laugh on the outside. Bad Guys killed my family, see. Then I’ll apparently develop psychic powers and intuit that my Greatest Enemy might be the jealous type and set about on an elaborate plot that involves parking tickets, finding out a hit man is gay, and using that old standby, the fire hydrant prop. Because they deserve punishment, these bad guys. And parking tickets. Along the way on my war against crime, I will be thrown through walls by large men in striped shirts and survive multiple hits to the head from Very Large Objects because wouldn’t it be cool to, y’know, be pushed through a wall and keep fighting? Man, I rock. I mean–they all must die. They killed my family.

If the first premise sounds intriguing, read the current Marvel MAX series of comic books. It’s good reading, and doesn’t have to bend to the advice of Focus Groups that want more laughs in their vengeance flicks.

If the second premise intrigues you, then by all means, go see THE PUNISHER.

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One Response »

  1. Hey, are you Bruce Kitun of Garfield, NJ ?

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