Death Wish
I’ve often felt that the large, metropolitan cities in our country are perhaps the WORST place to take up residence in, being concrete jungles of urban decay and moreso, rampant crime that is simply too difficult for the police to control given the unusually high concentration of people living within. This 1974 groundbreaker from director Michael Winner takes that theory a step further: that the massive crime and corruption that occurs in the big cities (and reflected in such uncontrollable elements such as the Rodney King riots) are the result of people in such areas being so passive (liberal?) that they simply refuse to stand up for themselves in self-defense, not fighting back and thus enduring the wrath of these events in full force before lamely playing the victim card. Charles Bronson (a legendary cinematic figure whose impressive legacy in recent years has been somewhat suppressed) stars as Paul Kersey, an architect who is described by a co-worker in an early scene as literally a “bleeding heart liberal”, who sees his world shattered when his wife and daughter are followed home and attacked by a trio of street punks (led by Jeff Goldblum) during which the daughter is raped and his wife is beaten to death. Kersey shoulders on with his life even as he feels a deep anger within his soul, until his firm sends him out on assignment to meet with a developer in Tucson, Arizona. Turns out the developer (Stuart Margolin) is a right wing gun nut (who is unaware of Kersey’s recent tragedy) who takes it upon himself to show Kersey around and expound on the relative safety in the streets of Tucson before taking him to a gun club and having him fire off a few rounds before finally bequeathing Kersey the gift of his very own handgun to take back to NYC with him. Once back home, Kersey heads out for a walk late at night and when confronted by a mugger, gets the drop on him and shoots the mugger dead. Thus begins, as one might view it, either his descent into madness or rising above fear, as Kersey starts making it a nightly habit to venture into the city at night, often using entrapment methods such as dressing in expensive clothes or pulling out a big wad of bills while eating at an inner city diner, before inevitably being confronted by more street punks who learn an unlucky lesson in how crime doesn’t pay. In so doing, the (unknown) vigilante becomes a folk hero to the people of New York, getting widespread coverage in the media and forcing the police to launch a rigorous investigation against him led by a lieutenant (Vincent Gardenia) who is ultimately told by his superiors that they DON’T want him arrested, but rather be given the message that they want him to leave the city quietly instead, due mostly to Kersey’s positive image as his actions have caused the crime rate to drop precipitously. Admittedly, much of the movie’s style, tone, and attitude have dated it badly more than 40 years later, and many modern New Yorkers would make the case that New York is much safer today than it ever was (thanks mostly to Giuliani), but it still raises interesting questions about the morality of taking the law into your own hands, especially in the way that Kersey seems to find an inner peace and fulfillment at his actions, helped remarkably by Bronson’s ability as an actor to convey so much to the viewer without a lot of dialogue, and the often unfair criticism that the film itself has received that it is some sort of ultra-right wing tract when in fact it’s rather ambiguous as to whether or not it condones his actions, with the title itself being an apt description for the idea that Kersey himself in fact DOES want to die, but at least he wants to take as many scumbags down with him as possible (and considering that this as a franchise with Bronson starring extended to five whole movies, that’s a lot of scumbags). In the end, while the viewer is left with no easy answers, one thing is made clear by the chilling final shot of Bronson: he now has a taste for killing, and if his actions help drive down the crime rate, so be it, a stark contrast from the obviously frightened and traumatized image we have of the real-life George Zimmerman, and something that is to be considered by those fortunate to view the film for a long time coming…
8/10