Sequels and remakes have been a thing forever, but it’s only comparatively recently that the term ‘reboot’ was added to the cinematic vernacular. Admittedly, the line between this new-ish descriptor and the aforementioned established film categories is often hazy, but it would seem to effectively mean either taking the story and/or characters in question back to square one, or in some way reviving their story world for contemporary audiences in a way that doesn’t necessarily negate what went before. 2018 has had its share of high profile reboots: take the recently released The Predator, and the upcoming Halloween, the latter of which pulls off a particularly enticing move by luring back three key figures from the original film in Jamie Lee Curtis, Nick Castle and John Carpenter.
However, while many reboots might like to bring back the original stars of their respective franchises, oftentimes this is either impractical or impossible, as the actors in question might be either too old, retired, or no longer with us. This is very much the case with Death Wish, the iconic and long-controversial series launched by Michael Winner’s widely admired yet divisive 1974 original, then continued in the 80s and 90s in a series of four increasingly absurd and excessive sequels. By the time the initial series reached its end with 1994’s Death Wish V: The Face of Death, legendary leading man Charles Bronson was already way too old for that shit at 72, and only nine years later he was dead. As such, there’s obviously no chance of seeing the much-loved star play the famed role of middle class New York architect-turned-gun-toting vigilante Paul Kersey once again (hence Bruce Willis was cast in the role for Eli Roth’s recent Death Wish remake, which at the time of writing I haven’t seen so can’t comment on, though I can’t pretend I’m in any great rush to watch it).
But what if there was a way we could kind-of, sort-of see Bronson blowing away scumbags on the streets once again, in a contemporary context? This is the unique selling point of low-budget exploitation thriller Death Kiss, which casts Robert ‘Bronski’ Kovacs – a Hungarian unknown, notable for his uncanny physical resemblance to the late star – as an unnamed character who might very well be a modern day continuation of Kersey. It’s a bizarre idea, but irresistible to fans of the Death Wish franchise, or anyone with an affection for outlandish grindhouse trash cinema which has seen more than its share of lookalike movies over the years (witness the numerous Bruce Lee imitators). The question is, does the film itself really deliver what this audience is after?
Largely plotless, Death Kiss follows its unnamed, familiar-looking protagonist as he traverses streets and backwoods gang neighbourhoods, clad in various recognisable ensembles – shirt, tie and trench coat, thick woolly jumper and beanie hat – but always with a gun in his hand, and always showing up right when bloody retribution is called for. In between these vengeful vignettes, we cut to Daniel Baldwin (another actor who, if we’re being a bit mean, we might say owes a lot of his work to resembling other more famous stars) as an Alex Jones-ish radio host, ranting about how political correctness has gone mad, the police aren’t even trying to help us and so on and so forth, and pondering whether taking the law into our own hands might be the answer. Then we also cut away to a single mother (Eva Hamilton) and her wheelchair-bound daughter, who have just moved out to a secluded house in the country, but are unknowingly under the protection of a mysterious benefactor with a grizzled face and a striking moustache, although the hows, whys and wherefores of this are not immediately clear.
Death Wish was always a very contentious concept, and in the sequels things only got more provocative (generally for its own sake), so adopting a similar approach in these sensitive times may seem a risky, ballsy move. However, while Death Kiss makes plenty of effort to push taboo buttons and Baldwin’s monologues may at points raise questions as to just where the film’s sympathies really lie, it’s clear early on that the film really isn’t a political polemic, but simply a love letter to a long-gone age of cinema. This would be fine, if the film came close to capturing the same vibe as the films that inspired it. Unfortunately, writer-director Rene Perez (previously responsible for 2010 horror western Cowboys & Zombies, which I wasn’t massively impressed with) isn’t quite Michael Winner. The shoot-out scenes, while plentiful, are sluggishly staged and quickly get repetitive, even if Kovacs seems a lot more willing to get physical than Bronson was by his later days as Paul Kersey. Another problem, at least in terms of this being a modern day spin on Death Wish, is how rural the bulk of the action is; clearly a very low budget production, it seems fair to assume they just couldn’t afford to shoot in the city, and the country backdrop just isn’t as natural a fit for gangbanger-blasting action.
Kovacs’ resemblance to Bronson is really quite uncanny, and while his dialogue is clearly overdubbed by an American actor to knowingly humourous effect, the Hungarian actor does a good job handling the role of the enigmatic, taciturn one-man army, and I’ve no doubt that if he was handed a project with a bit more oomph, the results might have been destined for midnight movie classic status (imagine a new Charles Bronson heading up Hobo With A Shotgun, for instance). As it stands, Death Kiss just doesn’t have nearly enough going for it beyond the novelty of its leading man, and pales in comparison to the works it seeks to emulate. And let’s face it, when your film pales in comparison to the later Death Wish films, that’s something you should be worried about. (Although I won’t hear a single bad word about Death Wish 3, damn it.)
Uncork’d Entertainment release Death Kiss to US VOD on October 2nd, with a DVD release to follow on December 4th.