For anyone familiar with the Punisher comic book series, the notion of a film in which the titular vigilante is reduced to a nonsensical bore seems like an impossibility. Perhaps it is a credit to the film-makers of this disjointed revenge vehicle that they accomplish that staggering feat. At least they achieved something.
This overlong and largely nonsensical bit of mayhem strips away nearly every facet of the advertised character and instead offers us a stone-faced and wholly unlikeable entity who doesn't ultimately offer a satisfying payoff to the quest for vengeance the plot implies we're supposed to invest ourselves in. The bulk of the film seems tacked on to pave the way for a franchise, yet this initial outing does nothing to encourage or justify any further exploration of the Punisher's savage mission.
By completely disregarding the origin outlined in the comic series, the film-makers set themselves up for fans' "foul" cries from the onset, and nothing in this movie even attempts to reconcile the on-page Punisher with the one in this far-removed and inherently uninteresting re-imagining. The Punisher is one of the few Marvel "heroes" whose metamorphosis has stood the test of time, and it's downright shocking how many liberties are taken with that genesis here. While most of the Marvel characters who have made the transition from panel to screen have been subtly hampered by their quaint formative elements (almost all of which are grounded in the fear/awe of the post-nuclear '60s, which dates them by implication), The Punisher is a timeless creation whose transformation arises as a result of the brutal murder of his wife and son, a distinction which puts him in the "everyman" category so crucial to the revenge flick sub-genre.
Thomas Jane attempts to channel the steely resolve necessary to bring this archetype to life, but so little time is spent on his emotional transformation that we're left wondering whether he's haunted by the injustice done to his family because it's a callous, life-shattering act of violence, or simply because he knows he's SUPPOSED to be haunted by it. The only grieving we see our Punisher burdened with is a singular flashback scene that recounts the events we've already seen unfold, which strips the film of the complex disintegration of a relatively normal husband and father that we see essayed in the source material.
Since the Punisher himself has virtually no character, we are instead forced to explore a slew of ancillary characters, none of whom add anything to the stilted narrative. The introduction of the Costa Rican "shaman" who eventually nurses Jane back to health is a mindless diversion since all this supposedly important presence ultimately does is spout a telegraphed line to set up Jane's equally predicable "God is going to have to sit this one out" catchphrase. Likewise with each of the three moderately to mind-numbingly annoying neighbors who populate Frank Castle's micro-verse. Two seem to be on hand simply to provide comic relief, which is a bit unsettling since neither of them are funny. The damaged, one-dimensional Rebecca Stamos character serves only as an unrequited love interest whose attraction to Castle seems based solely on him beating up her obsessive ex-boyfriend. We are also forced to spend time with two disposable and ultimately pointless hit men, both of whom easily succumb to Castle's murderous talents and are clearly only in the movie to set up the unspectacular action sequences that spell their demise.
In a film full of useless people, the absence of the Microchip character becomes a glaring omission. In the original comics, Microchip served as both an ethical beacon and an invaluable resource, which balanced the homicidal prerequisites of Castle's meted "punishment" and offered a plausible explanation for his seemingly unlimited access to weaponry and technology. In this incarnation, Castle is a lone wolf, yet still has access to top-shelf weaponry and has the wherewithal to build an armored car that ends up being destroyed in battle, yet inexplicably re-appears in perfect condition by the film's coda. Unfortunately, so much of this film makes no sense that Castle's acquisition of his arsenal and his invincible ride become two of the more passable plot holes.
Even at its most extreme, the basic thread followed in the Punisher comic series had a grounding in the off-panel world that lent it a keen sense of realism. In this film, Castle's covert activities instead open the door for scrutiny, and when we actually stop to consider the implications of revealing himself to his ex-peers in the police force, his afore-mentioned securing of his weaponry, his ability to rent an apartment despite his legal status as "deceased", and the fact that it takes several of blasé villain John Travolta's henchmen being murdered for him to get around to sending his goons over to Castle's place of residence, the sloppy plot crumbles under the weight of its ineptness.
Don't even get me started on Castle's meticulously plotted revenge scheme, in which he misleads Travolta into killing his own wife and best friend. This is ostensibly done to force Travolta to endure the loss and grief his murderous orders created for Castle, yet Travolta's punishment occurs mere seconds after the reveal, which leaves precious little time for Travolta to react to the results of the carefully crafted ploy. In the end, when our villain gets his come-uppance, we're left wondering why simply shooting all parties involved wouldn't have been a more effective and economical use of The Punisher's time.
When the lone non-superhero in the Marvel film canon is the one whose tale is hardest to swallow, something has clearly gone wrong. And when said character has been previously brought to life in a more convincing fashion by Dolph Lundgren, we're clearly dealing with a problematic film. Frank Castle already lost his family. He certainly didn't deserve this.
This overlong and largely nonsensical bit of mayhem strips away nearly every facet of the advertised character and instead offers us a stone-faced and wholly unlikeable entity who doesn't ultimately offer a satisfying payoff to the quest for vengeance the plot implies we're supposed to invest ourselves in. The bulk of the film seems tacked on to pave the way for a franchise, yet this initial outing does nothing to encourage or justify any further exploration of the Punisher's savage mission.
By completely disregarding the origin outlined in the comic series, the film-makers set themselves up for fans' "foul" cries from the onset, and nothing in this movie even attempts to reconcile the on-page Punisher with the one in this far-removed and inherently uninteresting re-imagining. The Punisher is one of the few Marvel "heroes" whose metamorphosis has stood the test of time, and it's downright shocking how many liberties are taken with that genesis here. While most of the Marvel characters who have made the transition from panel to screen have been subtly hampered by their quaint formative elements (almost all of which are grounded in the fear/awe of the post-nuclear '60s, which dates them by implication), The Punisher is a timeless creation whose transformation arises as a result of the brutal murder of his wife and son, a distinction which puts him in the "everyman" category so crucial to the revenge flick sub-genre.
Thomas Jane attempts to channel the steely resolve necessary to bring this archetype to life, but so little time is spent on his emotional transformation that we're left wondering whether he's haunted by the injustice done to his family because it's a callous, life-shattering act of violence, or simply because he knows he's SUPPOSED to be haunted by it. The only grieving we see our Punisher burdened with is a singular flashback scene that recounts the events we've already seen unfold, which strips the film of the complex disintegration of a relatively normal husband and father that we see essayed in the source material.
Since the Punisher himself has virtually no character, we are instead forced to explore a slew of ancillary characters, none of whom add anything to the stilted narrative. The introduction of the Costa Rican "shaman" who eventually nurses Jane back to health is a mindless diversion since all this supposedly important presence ultimately does is spout a telegraphed line to set up Jane's equally predicable "God is going to have to sit this one out" catchphrase. Likewise with each of the three moderately to mind-numbingly annoying neighbors who populate Frank Castle's micro-verse. Two seem to be on hand simply to provide comic relief, which is a bit unsettling since neither of them are funny. The damaged, one-dimensional Rebecca Stamos character serves only as an unrequited love interest whose attraction to Castle seems based solely on him beating up her obsessive ex-boyfriend. We are also forced to spend time with two disposable and ultimately pointless hit men, both of whom easily succumb to Castle's murderous talents and are clearly only in the movie to set up the unspectacular action sequences that spell their demise.
In a film full of useless people, the absence of the Microchip character becomes a glaring omission. In the original comics, Microchip served as both an ethical beacon and an invaluable resource, which balanced the homicidal prerequisites of Castle's meted "punishment" and offered a plausible explanation for his seemingly unlimited access to weaponry and technology. In this incarnation, Castle is a lone wolf, yet still has access to top-shelf weaponry and has the wherewithal to build an armored car that ends up being destroyed in battle, yet inexplicably re-appears in perfect condition by the film's coda. Unfortunately, so much of this film makes no sense that Castle's acquisition of his arsenal and his invincible ride become two of the more passable plot holes.
Even at its most extreme, the basic thread followed in the Punisher comic series had a grounding in the off-panel world that lent it a keen sense of realism. In this film, Castle's covert activities instead open the door for scrutiny, and when we actually stop to consider the implications of revealing himself to his ex-peers in the police force, his afore-mentioned securing of his weaponry, his ability to rent an apartment despite his legal status as "deceased", and the fact that it takes several of blasé villain John Travolta's henchmen being murdered for him to get around to sending his goons over to Castle's place of residence, the sloppy plot crumbles under the weight of its ineptness.
Don't even get me started on Castle's meticulously plotted revenge scheme, in which he misleads Travolta into killing his own wife and best friend. This is ostensibly done to force Travolta to endure the loss and grief his murderous orders created for Castle, yet Travolta's punishment occurs mere seconds after the reveal, which leaves precious little time for Travolta to react to the results of the carefully crafted ploy. In the end, when our villain gets his come-uppance, we're left wondering why simply shooting all parties involved wouldn't have been a more effective and economical use of The Punisher's time.
When the lone non-superhero in the Marvel film canon is the one whose tale is hardest to swallow, something has clearly gone wrong. And when said character has been previously brought to life in a more convincing fashion by Dolph Lundgren, we're clearly dealing with a problematic film. Frank Castle already lost his family. He certainly didn't deserve this.