Here's the best thing about The Punisher: star Jane spends half the film with his shirt off or wearing a tank top. Without being too leeringly panting about it, the man has a pectacular chest.
It's surely not his acting that wins notice here. Jane makes Ben Affleck at his stiffest look like a ball o' fire. Punisher, based on the comic book, is ponderously slow getting going. An ex-FBI agent (Jane) becomes the titular hero only after his entire family is slain. Bloody vengeance shall be his, and he's clever about how he gets it; he sets his enemies (including Travolta, who's coasting here) against each other so that they do half the job for him. Though some of the dialogue is woefully stilted, sitting through Punisher is not punishment—but neither is it a pleasure, unless Jane is doffing his top. (R)