Harry here... Pyul only scratches the surface of how awful this film is. Seriously. Read and only imagine the horror that awaits the fool that enters a theater playing this film. BEWARE!

Hey Harry,    

"The Punishment Begins April 16, 2004." Talk about truth in advertising. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could be closer to the truth. And while I'm still not quite certain what it is exactly that I've done - probably something karmic, biting me in the ass for something I did in a past life - punishment has found me and reamed me six ways from Sunday. You know, maybe it's not me. Maybe, just maybe, this is some global fanboy punishment from God himself on high, utterly pissed that we as a fanbase would dare support a movie about a demon from Hell when we could have gone and seen the movie about his son again. Either way, your punishment is coming. It's stalking you from the shadows, enticing you with insane early reviews promising a fun gritty Frankenheimer-esque thrill ride, taunting you with a big name villain and a proven actor in the role of the hero. You want to see it, you know you do. You're an Ain't it Cool News reader. Comic Book movies are the gravy on the mashed potatoes of your life. Nothing in your soul can keep you from missing this, even if you do wait for it on video. You must see the Punisher. You know why?    

Because you too deserve punishment.    

The Punisher is ass, sheer, raw B-grade movie ass, upon which festering pimples threaten to burst at any moment. This movie is such a spectacular failure that it has to be seen to be believed for words alone cannot describe just how terrible Jonathan Hensleigh's attempt at film making really is. But I'll try, by God I'll try.    

This movie will have you begging, pleading - nay - praying for Dolph Lundgren to show up. Oh yes. You will pine for Louis Gosset Jr's gritty cop on the trail of a misguided anti-hero. You will desire hours and hours of motorcycle rides through the sewers. You'll even wish you could see those silly calling card knives with the cool skull on the hilt. You'll actually want to be anywhere but in a theatre showing this mindless drek, because this movie fails to entertain on every level. It is, Hands down, the worst theatrically distributed film I've seen this year. And it's gonna be a tough one to beat.    

First and foremost, despite being called "The Punisher", this movie bares little resemblance to the comic book character it's supposedly based upon. To call this a loose adaptation of the material doesn't do this justice. 1998's Godzilla was a spot on faithful crowd pleaser of an adaptation compared to this flaccid attempt. Oh sure, there's a guy dressed in black with a big white skull on his shirt that everyone CALLS Frank Castle. But he's not Frank Castle. Not THE Frank Castle anyway. (Note: my loathing and hatred of this film goes far beyond my attachment to the character, so stay with me. I've got to start somewhere and this is as good a place as any.)    

You see, The Punisher is THE Vigilante. He makes Batman look like some sissy tool of the system, what with his constant crisis of conscience. The Punisher is a psychopath. He's a guy who saw some really fucked up shit in Vietnam and came back to start a new life and a new family. But one day, while on a picnic in the park, his family is gunned down in the crossfire of two rival gangs - and Frank Castle snaps. No one protected his family and the police couldn't prosecute those who had wronged him. Someone had to do something. All of the costumed crazies that called themselves heroes were always busy fighting other costumed lunatics and tearing the city apart piece by piece. No one bothered with the drug dealers, the thugs, the mob. Those were small potatoes to the likes of the Fantastic Four. Someone had to protect all the other families out there - and so that's what Frank Castle did. He dropped out of society, became a ghost and one by one killed off those who threatened the lives of the innocents around them. He brought punishment with the business end of an M-16. But Frank Castle, the real Punisher, was deeply flawed. Sure, his intentions were good, but when all was said and done, he was not.    

The Punisher of the comics is a character of legend. He's the modern age comic book version of Clint Eastwood's Man with No Name, Steve McQueen's Bullit and Charles Bronson's Paul Kersey all rolled into one semi-costumed package. But that's not the Punisher Jonathan Hensleigh gives us. In fact, it's not even the Punisher he tries to give us.    

Instead, this Frank Castle (henceforth referred to as PITMO, Punisher in Trademark Only) is an FBI agent whose family is killed out of revenge for a bust gone bad that leaves a Crime Lord's son dead. This isn't random violence. This is revenge, pure and simple. And after watching his family die and being left for dead himself, PITMO then sets out to avenge this act of revenge. Not to serve the ultimate cause of justice, not to right any wrong, not to protect anyone's family. To get cold, methodical revenge. Okay, fine, you want to throw the entire concept of the Punisher right out the fucking window? That's cool. At least he's still a bad ass, right?    

Um, no. PITMO, as it turns out, really isn't all that good at the whole vigilante thing. Oh sure, he knows how to soup up an old muscle car and turn it into Road Warrior: the Home Game. And somewhere along the line he developed the magical power to pull illegal 8lb explosives out of his ass on a whim. He has even managed to put together an assortment of firepower so large that Homeland Security would shit a brick even getting a whiff that this much weaponry existed, but keeps it in an unprotected, low rent apartment that an 8 year old with a credit card could break into and every criminal in town seems to know it's location. No, despite PITMO's acumen for getting all the right tools for the job, he has no clue what to do with them.    

PITMO makes every mistake in the book. He all but spells out his agenda at a police press conference. He lets the villains know he's alive and looking for them. Hell, he spends the bulk of the film getting his ass kicked all over Florida by low rent hoods like professional wrestler Kevin Nash in a bad dye job (almost as bad as Thomas Jane's) and a Johnny Cash El Mariachi knockoff. Yes, the Punisher, gets his ass kicked consistently. By goons. But all of this ass kicking leads up to the ultimate in revenge, right?    

Um, negatory on that. No, instead, PITMO attempts to recreate a half-assed, b movie version of Titus Andronicus, forcing our villain to get revenge for him not because he plays upon the Villains nature, but rather, because the villain is actually dumber than he is. In fact, if this movie departs from the comic medium in any way whatsoever, it's that rather than pitting a superhero against a worthy super villain, it pits a mental midget against a Special Olympics bronze medallist.    

Now we're told repeatedly just how badass PITMO is supposed to be, just like we're told how evil his rival, Saint (John Travolta), is supposed to be. But he never actually shows it. I mean, we're told twice that he speaks six different languages, but does he once speak anything other than English? Nope. Why? Because that would require subtitles and the target audience of this film isn't one that's all about that whole readin' writin' thing. Really. PITMO is a high school dropouts wet dream: A Muscle car driving loner who sucks down Wild Turkey, is lusted after by the plain Jane waitress that lives in the apartment next to his and has every cool weapon you can find in the back room of a gun show. That he does nothing but pick fights he can't win only further cements him as someone that audience can identify with.    

But PITMO is far more than a bad revenge film. It's also a wacky comedy rife with kooky neighbors and terrible one liners. I shit you not. This film tries to add comedy and levity to such a degree that it almost becomes satirical, as if Jonathan Hensleigh actually set out not to honor the Punisher, but to bury him. If the Overweight comic who lives next door (played by comedian John Pinnette, famous for his classic stand up routine "You go now! You been here four hours. You eat vegetable!") isn't enough to tickle your funny bone, then perhaps John Travolta yucking it up about the death of his loved ones will have you rolling in the aisles. Yeah. Actually, the funniest bits in this movie are the unintentional ones. Those classic moments where Thomas Jane tries with all of his might to sound cool but instead comes across like that 30 year old friend of yours who still lives in his parents basement. When he says "God's gonna sit this one out," it takes all you can muster just not to say "Yeah, whatever, just don't forget my six pack of tallboys while you're at the store, dillweed."    

But it's not like Thomas Jane isn't trying. To his credit, at least he's got the Frank Castle voice down. I mean he SOUNDS like a comic book vigilante should sound. Unfortunately, everything he's given to say is simply ridiculous and not worthy of either Thomas Jane or The Punisher. And then there's John Travolta. Frankly, I don't think he even bothers to read his scripts anymore. He's probably just happy to film on location shoots just so he has an excuse to fly back and forth across the country.    

I don't even want to talk about Roy Schieder. Talk about screwing one of the old school greats with his pants on.    

But where the script fails to accomplish being truly terrible, the camera work more than makes up for it, assuring that this movie looks and feels like the worst of the low budget 80's actioners. I mean, when I saw PITMO wielding that bow, I was taken back to another 1989 action schlock classic 'Next of Kin' and instantly reminded just how much better a film it was.    

And I swear, If I see a superhero leave his calling card by lighting shit on fire in the shape of his trademarked logo one more time, I'm gonna beat someone down with a stick. This turns out to be the movies greatest punchline, proving once and for all that PITMO is nothing but a pathetic wannabe, not worthy to stand among the ranks of even Steel or The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.    

Honestly, this is what happens when you cross Death Wish with 2 Fast 2 Furious while cranking up the butt rock on your brothers Camero.    

Really, you don't deserve this, no one does. In fact, I'm certain that this film constitutionally qualifies as cruel & unusual punishment in most of the continental United States and will only find itself on prison televisions here in Texas (where cruel & unusual means we don't throw the switch before we plug you in, just to fuck with you.)    

It's funny. The original 1989 Punisher turned out to be the final feature film directing gig for Mark Goldblatt, who then returned to editing Michael Bay films. If quality is any indication, Jonathan Hensleigh should return to writing movies for Mark to edit any day now.  

Pyul Mactackle