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The Punisher has typically been a romanticized anti-hero, admired and beloved for his lateral approach to justice and brazen disregard for conventional morality - the quintessential "Chaotic Good" protagonist. He is also associated with the fetishization of guns and vigilante justice.
The incarnation of the character portrayed by John Bernthal in Netflix's "Punisher" series ensures that this classic grit is not glamorized. Frank Castle, alias the "Punisher", is less morally black-and-white than say, Captain America. Ironically, his black-and-white view of justice makes him a more complex, morally gray character, as this attitude isn't shaped by traditional ethics or any kind of logical argument. Rather, it's a combination of lateral thinking and pragmatism. However, this kind of judgement is a thought process that does not allow room for empathy. Instead of embracing this as a stoic trait, Marvel's "Punisher" views this as a weakness. In fact, it is portrayed as a symptom of a very real sickness, a sickness from which countless Americans suffer and have suffered...especially those who served in the armed forces.
John Bernthal's Frank Castle, the Punisher, is shown for what he is - or rather, what someone like him would look like in the real world. He's often hard to sympathize with, especially since he rarely sympathizes with anyone whom he judges in need of "punishment." Though admittedly Castle's strict adherence to avoiding collateral damage and saving the violence for those who are themselves violent criminals can make certain scenes cathartic, the brutality by which he dispatches foes can sometimes be more gut-wrenching than satisfying, unless the viewer is a complete sociopath.
There's no point in avoiding the ugly truth: it can be cathartic to see antagonists get brutalized. It scratches a primitive itch in the some of the oldest corners of the human mind. If that weren't true, violent movies, shows, and video games wouldn't be as popular as they are.
Arguably, this is the whole point of the character; while Marvel's main pantheon includes more cut-and-dry, clean-handed good guys like Captain America and Dr. Strange, Frank Castle takes the "good guys win, bad guys lose" dichotomy to an extreme degree, almost to the point of parody.
Much of the "punishment" Castle doles out on antagonists can be truly gut-wrenching to watch. This incarnation of the character is a reality check on the classic romanticized gritty anti-hero. Frank Castle is not a traditional protagonist in that he's not really a hero - he's not someone anyone should aspire to be.
He's also not someone who should be despised. For all the pain he causes, he's a victim...a victim of war, classism, government corruption, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). His obsession with doling out justice using blood-splattered assault rifles and greasy sawed-off shotguns may reflect his audience's fetish for firearms and war but his constant struggle to adapt to normal, post-war life and inability to transcend his past aren't just meant to make him seem edgy. They're meant to show the audience that Frank is struggling with an untreated, undiagnosed case of PTSD.
"Punisher" is about a comic book character who has traditionally been considered an iconoclast among vigilantes and gun enthusiasts...yet, it isn't about why edgy vigilantes are somehow "necessary." At its core, "Punisher" is about what guns do to people both mentally and physically. This isn't portrayed in a positive light. If anything, Frank Castle is portrayed as a slave to violence, rather than its master.
A running theme throughout season 1 is the difficulty had by soldiers returning to normal life after active duty. There are numerous characters whose lives are strangled by PTSD, yet are not able to get the help they need. At one point, Frank refers to himself thusly: "I am a reminder...all men die!" Castle's cohort David Lieberman points out that the skull on Castle's Punisher costume is a memento mori - a visual reminder of death and mortality. In the show's second to last episode, without spoiling anything - Frank is haunted by visions of his deceased wife. Frank's perspective flits back and forth between these visions and his present reality, in which he is badly losing a fight against someone who had wronged him in an unforgivable way. His wife beckons to him, asks him to follower her "home." While I usually don't like to explain an interpretation of art as though it's the only valid point of view, I think it's obvious that this is intended to represent his inner struggle between slipping away, letting his past go, and finding peace...and persisting with his obsession with revenge. I think you can guess what he chooses.
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| If you see this, it's probably the last thing you ever see. Not what most people would hope for. |
Frank isn't the only character struggling with PTSD. Billy Russo, his former squadmate and close personal friend, also finds it difficult to let go of his past. He begins a paramilitary operation, "Anvil", in which he claims to find meaning by giving veterans like himself and Castle work in private security, exercising what they know best. Throughout season 1, he often references "how far [he has] come", which could imply not only his experiences in war but his trauma-filled childhood. Jason R. Moore's Curtis Hoyle is perhaps the only example in the series of a soldier returned from war who manages to function, but even he tells Castle and other characters more than once that each day is a struggle. Then, perhaps most tragically of all, there's Daniel Webber's character Lewis, who is utterly incapable of making sense of anything that isn't directly tied to combat and war - whether it's his relationship to his father, his professional life, even sleeping in his own bed.
Hollywood films have long glamorized self-justified violence; the more gratuitous, the better. Kids who manage to see violent TV shows and movies get playground cred for having seen something reserved for the eyes of grown-ups. Adults get to indulge a savage part of ourselves through the harmless act of viewing a performance. Netflix's Marvel series (all of them) are just as guilty of milking this as most are of enjoying seeing Daredevil beat up a building full of mafia thugs. Even in this case, Marvel's "Daredevil" doesn't shy away from the reality of a brutal fistfight - even with his specialized suit, when Matt Murdock gets stabbed, he limps for weeks. When he takes a few to the face, clients and coworkers ask him how his face became covered in bruises.
Netflix's Marvel shows have always indulged in cathartic violence on one hand and portrayed the reality of it in equal measure. "Punisher" is the best example of this yet; Castle is the most brutal of Netflix's Marvel protagonists, not because he has some kind of isolated quality about him called "being a badass." He doesn't pop people's eyes with his thumbs or saw their heads off with combat knives because he's "a badass", he does it because he's constantly, constantly suffering from PTSD. He's tormented by his own vivid memories, and his inability to stop re-living them.
Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Lewis Wilson, and Curtis Hoyle lost a great deal because they gravely underestimated what it does to you when you pull the trigger on a human being. Besides that, the people they turned their guns on, and their families and friends, lost even more. Marvel's "Punisher" is a show that gun enthusiasts and NRA apologists should take a closer look at, perhaps re-watch with this in mind...nothing good ever comes of guns. The only ones who don't think so are the truly ignorant, or the truly lost.
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