Dir. Lexi Alexander, US /GER, 2008, 103 min Cast: Ray Stevenson, Dominic West, Julie Benz, Doug Hutchison, Wayne Knight, Colin Salmon
Review by Matthew Rodgers
There must be somebody in Hollywood who loves flicking the “green light” switch and is obviously a glutton for Punishment (pun intended). Why else would they keep attempting to kick-start a franchise that stiffed in 1989 with Dolph Lundgren in the title role, and then underwhelmed us in 2004, on this occasion getting Thomas Jane to wear the skull embossed t-shirt?
It's a very difficult question to answer because Green Street director Lexi Alexander has used all of the tough love learnt on that movie to make the most quintessential Punisher movie yet; R-rated, bloody, and by that read bloody disgusting in a way that would make John Rambo blush, with the volume cranked up to 11, and balls-to-the-wall brutal action that won't win it any new fans. There's very little point to it, but it is a whole lot of gratuitous fun.
The role of Frank Castle requires grunting and brooding, so Shakespearean thesping isn't a prerequisite. Having said that, Ray Stevenson comes with HBO's terrific Rome on his CV and a few episodes of… ehem… The Bill and Dalziel and Pascoe in preparation for this gun-slinging ultra-violence.
Not really a sequel, War Zone still feels the need to remind us of Castle's origin of rage, so we pick up after the death of his family and the vigilante missions he continues to wage upon the criminal fraternities of New York 's seedy underbelly. One member of that in particular takes things extremely badly — well, he does have his face mashed up in a glass-cutting machine by The Punisher. The Jigsaw (Dominic West) is his self-proclaimed title, a name derived from his unfortunate new look from the Leatherface range. With an FBI agent on his tail (Salmon) and a tragic emotional attachment to a serviceman's widow (Julie Benz — Saw V), Castle must battle the combined armies of New York , all in the name of revenge.
Punisher: War Zone is stupid. Let's get that out of the way. Stevenson is asked to wrestle with dire dialogue such as “Sometimes I would like to get my hands on God” and balance such meaty lines within a character that fixes a broken nose with a pencil. He is one hard, two-dimensional bastard. Stevenson is given no chance to flesh out the character; any development is covering old ground, such as his patriarchal tendencies towards a young girl and his flashback suffering.
Instead, as with most non-Nolan comic-book movies, it's the villains that provide the bulk of the interest. West is hilariously over-the-top as Jigsaw, strutting around like a cross between Mick Jagger and Tony Montana, but with a potato instead of a face. It's a performance which reaches such unbelievable levels of ridiculousness, including a dodgy accent, that you wonder whether West has lost a bet and is making the most of it, or if he really needs to fire his agent. This is McNulty from The Wire !! Prancing down the street in Saturday Night Fever get up!! And it's brilliant.
At times, the violence can be too much, even taken in the context of an 18-rated comic-book movie. Alexander, however, pulls no punches and the opening sequence dinner table massacre should warn you of that. If that turns your stomach, it would probably be best for you to pop over to screen 1 and watch a rom-com.
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