Punisher: War Zone

The Pitch: After two fruitless attempts to cinematize one of its most beloved characters, Marvel is giving the Hul—er, the Fantastic Fo—dammit, the Punisher—a third berserker stab at big screen bloodlust. When Frank Castle (a.k.a., big Pun) fails to put away a mid-level mob boss on a routine sweep of organized scum, he inadvertently gives rise to a grotesque new persona named Jigsaw.

What It Really Is: A disappointingly schlocky effort that gives up on trying to make a realistic Punisher movie, settling instead on a hokey, multi-colored-neon gun rave best enjoyed in Rob Zombie's family room. It's not campy, but it's not gritty either; it's a stylized movie with no sense of style that often resembles a late-'80s TV action pilot that should have gone straight to DVD.

The Hook: Death and dismemberment. There are delightfully inventive moments of bone-splintering, tissue-shredding, brain-pulpifying ultraviolence—the kind that usually accompanies a better film. We were excited for the movie's ample blood porn, unfortunately it was gunned down in cold blood by a weak premise, screwball performances and dialogue straight from a can of World War II rations.

The cast is superlative... in the other movies they've done. But under Alexander's direction, this otherwise promising group grossly overplays its hand. Stevenson's Punisher is a brooding man of few words—which would be spot-on, were it not for what few horribly corny words he's given. West's Jigsaw is more discouraging, approximating a Dick Tracy villain with his flamboyant flitting and schmaltzy punchlines.

Why Are We Being Such Jerks? Because we'd hoped—right up until the closing credits—that this would be the third-time charm that finally solidified Frank Castle as a Hollywood heavyweight. Now, we'll have to wait for the re-reboot of the character, we're guessing some time in the second quarter of 2009.