Of the three films made to date of the Marvel Comics character, 2004’s The Punisher is half the movie as the ones that bookend it. Thomas Jane (Deep Blue Sea) assumes the Punisher role, aka Frank Castle, a FBI agent who calls it quits after too many grueling undercover jobs, the most recent of which resulted in the accidental death of the son of über-rich businessman Howard Saint, played by John Travolta, here fully ensconced in his honey-baked ham mode.

As payback, Saint — oh, the irony! — orders the assassination of Castle and his entire family, conveniently assembled in one place for a family reunion. Only Frank manages to survive. Donning the black, skull-emblazoned T-shirt his son opportunely gifted him before dying, he calls himself The Punisher, outfits his car and apartment with weapons galore and sets out to take down Saint and all his expensive-suited goons.

In his directorial debut, Jonathan Hensleigh gives his revenge tale an ugly grit that’s supposed to remind audiences of the pistol-packin’ ‘70s, but unfortunately, his story and pacing are reminiscent of ‘70s episodic cop shows. The dialogue is melodramatic and goofy; the score is overwrought and inappropriate.

And Jane doesn’t get to do much punishing. Aside from the final office-building siege in which Castle doles out some ass-kicking (and neck-penetrating and chin-stabbing), the action is subdued rather than exciting. The film’s big fight scene is supposed to be a mano y mano match between Castle and a mute walking steroid known as “the Russian,” but it’s hard not to laugh since he’s dressed like Baby Huey.

The Punisher is one of the last movies that needs comic relief, but lo and behold, it throws in not one, but two wacky neighbors! It also doesn’t need romance, but Rebecca Romijn-Stamos is there anyway as a heartbroken, downtrodden waitress who takes a shine to Castle. It’s not that the film needs eye candy with Mulholland Dr. hussy Laura Harring bouncing across the screen, but what was Hensleigh thinking when he cuts away from her undressing to lingerie? Oh, well, at least he lets us see Travolta be dragged by a car and set aflame in full. —Rod Lott

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In this English-language actioner from Hong Kong, two cops (one of whom is Aaron Kwok of Storm Riders, although they look so much like twins, I could hardly tell them apart) are out to quash a mob ring that, for the first time, is channeling drugs into mainland China.

Heading the operation is cocksure Mark Dacascos (Brotherhood of the Wolf), eager to work out the details of a $14 million coke transaction with his visiting supplier, played by rap star Coolio, who must’ve had it worked into his contract to have his character be named Coolio as well. Three times he says, “Man, I could get used to this shit!” Assisting them is a mysterious cutie not afraid to strip naked when she’s accused of wearing a wire.

For all its flaws — not much of a story, Coolio — China Strike Force delivers in the action department. From the opening training sequence, the film moves to a foot chase on a busy highway with the pursued and pursuer eventually jumping from moving vehicle to moving vehicle. There’s also a great, high-octane car chase between a Lamborghini and a race car, plus several rounds of martial-arts showdowns. But the biggest and best stunt is saved for last, with the characters battling on a constantly tilting plate-glass window suspended high above the city.

Not surprisingly, old pro Stanley Tong — director of several Jackie Chan films, including Rumble in the Bronx and Supercop — is behind the camera and guides his affable leads to direct-to-video greatness. Be sure and stick around for the Chan-tastic ouch-takes at the end credits. —Rod Lott

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In Hollywood’s first extreme-sports-inspired action film (seemingly existing only to have a movie with “extreme” in the title), a group of crazy kids shooting a camcorder commercial in the Austrian mountains are mistaken for CIA agents by Serbian war criminals hiding out in the unfinished resort where they’re staying.

That’s just one of many of Extreme Ops’ glaring gaps of logic wider than the space between star Bridgitte Wilson-Sampras’ eyes. But sure enough, this criminal mastermind who could not be toppled by entire governments is foiled with X Games stunts; this terrorist is taken down by beer-guzzling, snot-nosed sports freaks. If that’s the case, shouldn’t we have sent Tony Hawk to Iraq?

Dark City’s Rufus Sewell leads the team and has the hots for gold-medal downhill skier Bridgitte Wilson-Sampras-Gums-Teeth. The others dare you to like them, debuting with such lines as “I’m cramping and bleeding like a stuck pig!” and “Wassup, bitches?” That includes the rather unappealing Devon Sawa (Final Destination), whose baby teeth and bloodshot eyes suggests “reeks of skunk weed.” They’re so nutty and anti-authority that they’re always doing things like skateboarding atop moving trains and snowboarding off hotel roofs and laughing about it like it’s the funniest thing on earth. Why wasn’t Matthew Lillard in this?

It’s hard to side with the Extreme Ops team over the bad guys. And how do we know they’re bad? Because they’re bald and play chess … with bullets — how hardcore! The stunts are excellent, but that leaves no excellence for other aspects of the film. At least one character’s voice has been redubbed in its entirety. Directed by Screamers’ Christian Duguay, the flick has more falling snow in it than Chris Farley’s last party, and appears to have been made only for guys who use the word “bro.” Extreme Oops may be a more apt title. —Rod Lott

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Tarzan and the Valley of Gold wasn’t the last Tarzan movie to be influenced by the ’60s James Bond phenomenon. Coming two years later, the series’ next entry, Tarzan and the Great River, also stars Mike Henry and opens with a groovy spy feel, but adds The African Queen and Apocalypse Now to its mix. The latter wouldn’t come along for another 12 years, so it’s probably more accurate to cite Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.

Either way, Tarzan takes a trip up a mysterious river to confront the mad, god-like ruler of a deadly cult. His ride is on a boat owned by Charlie Allnut-lookalike Sam Bishop (comedian Jan Murray) and his boy sidekick Pepe (Manuel Padilla Jr., who was also in Valley of Gold, but as a different character). There’s also a nurse (Diana Millay from TV’s Dark Shadows) who’s trying to get some medicine to a remote village that’s under attack by a jaguar cult and its leader, Barcuna (Olympic decathlon champion Rafer Johnson).

The Great River isn’t as over-the-top and sexy as Valley of Gold, but that’s what makes it so endearing. It has a different feel from its predecessor, mostly focused on the relationships between the travelers and their various reasons for going up river. There’s a great final battle between Tarzan and Barcuna, but what sticks with you is the movie’s humor and charm.

Boys may sleep with Valley of Gold, but they marry Great River. —Michael May

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Although often lumped in with the blaxploitation films of the period, Ossie Davis’ Cotton Comes to Harlem feels a lot less Superfly and a lot more like a classic ’70s buddy cop movie, albeit one set in a Harlem where the possibility of a race riot is always just a few minutes away. The result is one of the most entertaining films the period produced.

Based on a Chester Himes novel, Cotton stars Raymond St. Jacques and Godfrey Cambridge as Coffin Ed Johnson and Gravedigger Jones, two police detectives whose detached cynicism is only matched by their sense of justice. Viewed by the black citizens they serve as Uncle Toms in cahoots with a racist police force, and by their white co-workers as black troublemakers who don’t know their place, they’re classic outsiders who aren’t above breaking the rules (and law) to do what they know is right.

In this case, it’s finding the $87,000 “stolen” from crooked Rev. Deke O’Malley (Calvin Lockhart), who has promised credulous investors that their funds are going to the construction of a boat to take them back to Africa and away from the racism they have to deal with everyday. Once it’s determined that the money has been hidden in a bale of cotton retrieved by kindly street person, Uncle Bud (Redd Foxx), the race is on between Johnson and Jones to find it before the bad guys.

Despite touching on some rather heavy social themes, director/co-writer Davis keeps the tone light and often comic, thanks to the efforts of his talented cast. The soundtrack also features standout work by Galt MacDermott and is worth buying on its own. Two years later, St. Jacques and Cambridge reprised the roles in Come Back, Charleston Blue, a sequel Davis on which chose not to work. —Allan Mott

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