Death Wish

Charles Bronson is Paul Kersey, a New York architect. Cast as a bleeding heart liberal by virtue of the fact that he does not agree with his boorish friend's idea about stick all the poor in death camps. Already we know Bronson's in for a rude awakening with, hopefully, violently cathartic results! Hell arrives in the form of three hoodlums who stalk his nearest and dearest back to their apartment. Led by a goggle eyed Jeff Goldblum, the sex-crime gang have all the larking irritability of dance-school kids doing improv. Perhaps sensing this disconnect, director Michael Winner has them indulge in an especially nasty rape scene, doubly bad for both its brutality and its leering objectification of Bronson's daughter. Bronson's wife, meanwhile, gets her head caved in while Goldblum screams "rich cunt!" in her face.

His life up in smoke, and saddled with a irritatingly familiar son-in-law, Bronson ups sticks and heads to Arizona. It's here he learns to love pistols and simplistic cowboy justice. Bronson's limp left-wing resolve finally breaks half-way through a wild west stunt show. Of course! The Old West eh? There was a time of moral stability! The first half of the tourist show is an extended torture scenario in which a white-hat sheriff gets ambushed, thrashed and imprisoned. Seconds later, he's miraculously recovered and sat on top of a building blasting the malcontents that did him over. It's High Plains Drifter as a tea-time treat, with a millionth of the flair. Returning home, Bronson embarks on a one-man mutilation mission. Cheer him on!

Death Wish enjoys an reputation that far outstrips its means. Despite Winner's credit I was expecting a sleazy Euro-infused Dirty Harry derivative, instead I got a grubby, rambling cheapy shot through with long, room-sweeping TV takes and a hectoring Herbie Hancock score. At a guess, I'd say Winner hates New York almost as much as he hates women. He shoots the Big Apple as a bestial shit-hole, full of bleating psychopaths and bawling addicts. Best not to mention the obnoxiously loud performances and keystone cop ineptitude that further muddle any thematic interest either. It's not all dreadful though - the funeral of Bronson's wife has a vaguely lyrical quality about it: taking place during a snow storm, what remains of the Kersey family huddle together for comfort. Clad in stark, mournful blacks, each is covered in a coke white freeze frosting. Bronson's always fun to watch too, his face exactly the kind of thing Jack Kirby might chisel out of marble - all brutalised lines and squinting vendetta.

Death Wish's most interesting aspect is the rejuvenation of Bronson through what amounts to homicidal cottaging. Initially Bronson's encounters are either self-defence or rescue. All too quickly though he's wandering around parks late at night, gussied up in expensive coats and flashing money, daring criminals to jump him. Once they've built up the courage to approach him, they get one in the gut and another in their face when they're lying prone on the floor. Retreating into himself Bronson finds solace in bawdy muzak and grim execution. The public loves him.

This is Death Wish's major failing, The Vigilante crusade is never approached from any angle other than simplistic crim bashing. It never affects Bronson's mental state, and his actions are never questioned. There is only another gut bullet at the end of another midnight honey trap. This is pre-Guiliani New York, exterminate the underclass! This lazy simple-mindedness I could quite happily sit through if Winner demonstrated even the vaguest hint of stylistic flair. Everything in Death Wish is shot drab and lifeless though. Corpses stumbling around ugly apartment sets and dark, urban spaces.

I got very excited towards the end - with the Police hot on his trail Bronson can't resist plunging himself into another park, down another flight of bone-white stairs, desperate for any illicit thrill. Half way down Bronson pauses. At the bottom are two muggers, goading and threatening him, demanding his money. Bronson's hand inches into his coat fumbling for his pistol. Suddenly another figure appears behind Bronson. Is it a cop? Is it the cop we just saw puzzling along Kersey's trail? Is Bronson trapped between the law and the lawless? Is that cop really going to take the side of the criminals to put an end to Bronson's reign of terror? Is this film actually getting exciting? Of course not! The cop was stuck elsewhere bumbling around like a twat. It was just another mugger. Bronson exterminated them all. Never mind eh?

A special mention must go to Paramount's DVD mastering department who clearly made no effort what-so-ever in putting this package together. No extras. Shitty print. Shitty sound. Too bad I can't blame them for the shitty film too.