The original Death Wish is best known as a reactionary rejection of complacency with the violence that plagued America's streets and the fear that preyed upon America's citizenry in the 1970s. It was denounced as "fascist" for indulging in extrajudicial executions of unreformed (and unreformable) criminals, but that term feels wrong here. It is, instead, a rather fascinating examination of the ways in which the Constitution works to protect our Declaration-promised right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
The Second Amendment looms largely, of course, with a lengthy interlude set in Tucson, Ariz., far away from the pit that is New York City ca. 1974. It is here that a self-styled rancher/developer named Aimes (get it?) reacquaints Paul Kersey (Charles Bronson) with the joys of shooting pistols, reminding him that more guns mean less crime. "This is gun country," Aimes says to Kersey at a shooting club after learning the New Yorker was a conscientious objector in the Korean War. "Can't even own a handgun in New York City. Out here, I hardly know a man that doesn't own one. And I'll tell you something—unlike your city, we can walk our streets and through our parks at night and feel safe."
The Fourth Amendment gets a shout out as well. The cops, unable or unwilling to apprehend the real criminals and tired of a vigilante making them look bad, engineer an illegal search of Kersey's residence—which just so happens to be apartment 4A. The importance of the First Amendment is stressed too, as cops work to hide information from the media that shows Kersey's spree has slashed muggings in half. Meanwhile, the anonymous Kersey is held up as an example for the people to emulate, a reminder that giving up in the face of social decay only encourages the creation of more perpetrators and more victims. He inspires old ladies armed with nothing more than hatpins to stop accepting the violence inflicted upon them, to stand up for themselves and their neighbors.
On top of serving as an ode to civil rights, Death Wish was well made, entertaining, and nearly deranged in its simplicity. A man suffers at the hands of criminals so he, in turn, makes criminals suffer. It's not a revenge film, per se; Kersey makes no real effort to track down the three punks (one of whom is played by Jeff Goldblum) who murder his wife and rape his daughter in the film's opening moments. It's more a retribution film. Kersey simply wanders the streets waiting to be mugged, standing his ground against anyone who pulls a switchblade or a pistol on him. The mood is set in the opening moments: I'd forgotten the original Death Wish opens not in New York City's crowded streets and shoebox apartments but on a Hawaiian beach, the beauty of its beige sand and sky-blue water contrasting sharply with the blood-red sky that looms over New York during the film's title card.
Kersey may not have been the hero America needed in 1974, but by God he was the hero America wanted: The film grossed over $100M in 2018 dollars and spawned a whole series of films. Needless to say, many critics weren't into the whole Death Wish thing; the New York Times's Vincent Canby, for instance, described it as "bigoted" and "despicable." As if anticipating such whinging, the film included a line about the absurdity of critiquing a vigilante for shooting too many minorities, given the city's crime stats.
Similar cries are going up in response to 2018's Death Wish, which has been denounced as, among other things, an advertisement for the NRA. Needless to say, few endorsements could be more intriguing. The Bruce Willis-starring actioner is, like its predecessor, a paean to gun rights and an important reminder that no one is going to bother protecting you from the criminal element, so you better be ready to protect yourself.
Paul Kersey (Bruce Willis) has been transplanted from New York City to Chicago; he's no longer a real estate developer but a doctor. He lives with his wife, Lucy (Elisabeth Shue), and daughter, Jordan (Camila Morrone), in a tony Chicago suburb. One night a trio of robbers invade the home, things go bad, and the women are shot. Lucy is killed, Jordan is in a coma, and the cops are no help finding the killers.
But as Lucy's dad tells Paul following her funeral, you can't rely on the cops to help keep you safe when danger looms. The only thing you can rely on is a good gun—a point driven home by the old coot's use of a repeating rifle on a pair of poachers illegally hunting on his land.
The 2018 iteration of Death Wish differs from its 1974 predecessor in that it is more of a straightforward revenge story. Sure, Dr. Kersey engages in a bit of vigilantism against random street criminals, leading to an amusingly brief, comic-book-like interaction between The Grim Reaper (Kersey) and The Ice Cream Man (a drug dealer known for shooting children who won't sling his wares). But revenge doesn't consume Dr. Kersey in 2018 the way it consumed Mr. Kersey in 1974. Bronson's real estate developer seemed addicted to it; he couldn't stop even after being confronted by the cops and given a warning that he was under surveillance. The good doctor, on the other hand, is primarily interested in tracking down the guys who destroyed his happy home and then torturing them for information on the whereabouts of their compatriots.
This is where director Eli Roth steps things up a notch—whereas the original's Michael Winner kept the kills relatively clean, with simple gaping bullet wounds, Roth gets a bit gorier. Heads are crushed, necks are twisted at unnatural angles, and exposed nerves are treated to spritzes from a caustic agent. This is definitely a movie by the guy who made Hostel and The Green Inferno, from the over-the-top violence down to the brief cameo from occasional collaborator Aaron Burns.
Death Wish doesn't have the style and grace of John Wick, nor is it quite as intense or relentless as Taken. But it's entertaining and amusing and charming in its refusal to dismiss the cathartic nature of retributive violence.