The Punisher shows the human cost of vigilantism
Every few weeks, there’s another Marvel property to consume. Thor: Ragnarok continues to sell record numbers of tickets, effective advertising for the next flagship movie Black Panther, which exists to set up Infinity War.
This is the real secret to Marvel’s popularity. Nothing is ever finished. It’s a tried and true method of eternal storytelling, perfected by daytime soaps but useful in mediums that are published weekly. Serialized filmmaking might be a new concept but there’s no doubt that it sells. Marvel wrote the playbook and continues to add page after page.
What works on the big screen also works for the small, particularly in the Netflix Defenders series. Beginning with Daredevil and Jessica Jones, Netflix has plowed through Luke Cage and Iron Fist, culminating in a so-so Defenders series.
Having caught up with 2012, Netflix has dropped back into a more contemplative tone in its latest small-time hero (or popular anti-hero, as it were) with The Punisher. It may seem strange to call a show about a murderous psychopath waging a one-man war on crime contemplative, but The Punisher measures its bullets more carefully than one might think.
It’s likely better than the last three Defenders shows, making it a worthwhile binge for a weekend.Frank Castle is a man haunted. He lost his family in what at first seemed like the crossfire of rival gangs, but is later revealed to be a complex hit scheme meant cover up the death of an Afgani informant with knowledge of military misconduct involving the import of heroin to the United States.
While I’m sure this seemed like a big deal at the time of writing, current events have shown that the best way to deflect an unpopular truth is to deny reality and tweet about the NFL. It probably doesn’t require the assassination of an entire family. But stories require conflict and Castle deals with this conflict by shooting it in the face.
The Punisher’s journey began in the second season of Daredevil, with the interesting part of the show that didn’t involve ninjas and Elodie Yung. At the end of that season, it seemed that Frank had tamed his demons to degree.
The Punisher begins with Castle in hiding, bearded and working construction. However, it doesn’t take long for him to return to his ways, finding fun new uses for his sledgehammer. Soon, however, he is contacted by a mysterious person known as Micro, leading him to new information about the death of his family.
The narrative for the show is effective enough, though it doesn’t quite bring Castle all the way to his comic book glory. It doesn’t have to, really. There has been a trend among the Netflix shows to drag the narrative out and distract with effective villains before dropping in some weak villains in the search for thirteen episodes. The Punisher, however, is served by the thirteen-episode format.
There is a surprising amount of things to unpack in a show like this one. It makes good attempts at exploring the veteran experience, providing commentary through effective subplots and characters. It could be argued that the showrunners are painting veterans with too broad a brush, but it doesn’t generally come across as tone deaf or preachy.
Like war itself, The Punisher and its characters exist in a morally grey area, a place where right and wrong aren’t immediately obvious. That’s always been the draw for fans of Frank Castle—the line between murder and justice. The show asks those questions well and never seeks to give the audience an answer. As with most good art, the answers come from within the person.
The elephant in the room with any adaptation of The Punisher, of course, is the gruesome violence of Frank, more often than not at the end of a gun. Current headlines are filled with mass shootings a show of this type can always strike critics as out of touch.
Unfortunately, there will never be a good time for The Punisher. Shootings are so commonplace now that there’s no avoiding them. But anyone that objects to the violence in The Punisher can choose not to view it.
If anyone wants to argue that shows like this one glorifies guns and gun violence, they’re welcome to do so. I’d argue that anyone who engages with this show can see that Frank Castle isn’t someone to glorify.
Violence leads to broken lives and Frank is as broken as they come.