As the well-worn adage tends to say, revenge is a dish best-served cold, which is something that many films have factored into their narratives when it comes to telling the stories of vengeful individuals on the prowl for retribution after experiencing some kind of injustice. Few films on the subject of revenge are more notable, for better or worse, than Death Wish, in which director Michael Winner is enlisted to adapt the novel by Brian Garfield, which tells the story of a mild-mannered architect whose wife is brutally murdered by a group of thugs, and as a result, he becomes a bloodthirsty vigilante that prowls New York City under the cover of night, armed with a pistol and a desire to end the lives of the many criminals that scurry around through these streets, attacking innocent people for spare change and the rush that comes with petty crime. A film that remains as controversial today as it did upon its release fifty years ago, Death Wish is a peculiar curio, a remnant of a very particular time and place, but one that also speaks to contemporary sensibilities in a way that is genuinely quite surprising, if not outright deranged at the best of times, which has kept it relevant and highly-contentious, even in a seemingly desensitized era in which viewers are confronted with the same amount of violence, albeit very rarely delivered with this level of cynicism. A film that is always in a state of being reassessed, since it, unfortunately, touches on a few raw nerves that make it very clear that it continues to resonate with viewers, Death Wish is a fascinating and brutal film, and one that contains a sliver of honesty that will continue to be relevant as long as crime is widespread, and while it is by no means a perfect film (and any attempt to define it as such is not only incorrect, but outright contradictory to a film in which the flaws are some of the most intriguing aspects), there is something genuinely quite compelling about how Winner and his cohorts examine this story and its underlying themes, which has allowed it to remain one of the most divisive and widely-discussed films of the 1970s, an era where Hollywood was taking far more risks, and opening the door to such harsh but essential narratives that examined the darker side of humanity in vivid, uncomfortable detail.

Death Wish had quite a storied journey to the screen, and much of this came in the casting process, with just about every actor of a certain age (as well as those on either side of that age range) being considered for the part of Paul Kersey, a man driven to violence after the death of his wife. The role ultimately went to Charles Bronson, who was arguably a poor choice in theory – the premise of the novel was that the protagonist was a meek man who descends into madness as a result of a major loss, so having one of the most gruff and aloof actors playing the part essentially means that this character development is lost from the start since Bronson is an actor who always seemed to be on the precipice of violence, a quality he often used to his advantage in these intense, complex roles. However, these concerns exist almost entirely in theory, since Bronson proves them to be unfounded, this character being perhaps his signature role and one he found value in, considering he would reprise the character in four further sequels. He’s terrific in the film – he finds the right balance between stoicism and violence, and he truly convinces us that he is a good man who has been forced into this position as a result of his trauma, in which revenge is the only solution. He is not the most traditionally charismatic presence on screen, which is something that both Bronson and Winner use to their advantage, since having the character be too likeable or endearing would contradict the thorny, more unsettling elements of the film. Instead, the actor finds the right balance, and even in his quietest moments proves to truly understand this character and his motivations. The supporting cast is also very good – not only does it feature tremendous character actors like Vincent Gardenia and Jack Wallace in major parts, but it serves to be an early appearance of industry legends like Jeff Goldblum, Christopher Guest and Olympia Dukakis, none of which have major roles, but still play a big part in the construction of the story. This is entirely Bronson’s film, and it stands as one of his most notable performances, being appropriately tied to his unique persona and definitive of his entire career, which received a considerable boost as a result.

Any discussion on Death Wish that doesn’t at least evoke the theme of violence as being the centrepiece of this film is either experimental enough to take a very different approach or missing the main point of the film entirely. Violence is beyond central to this film, which is the precise reason it has retained so much controversy, to the point where even by contemporary standards it is viewed as bordering on excess. What is most intriguing about the use of violence is actually how it isn’t even all that gory – there are many moments of unhinged violence as the main character strolls through the city on one of his endless quests to get revenge on the criminals that occupy the streets that he wishes to return to the law-abiding citizens, but visually it is quite tame. Instead, it’s the implications surrounding the violence that are truly disturbing, with the protagonist being able to go on what is a very clear killing spree (disguised under the veneer of vigilantism) while never bearing any real consequences, that makes the film both incredibly fascinating and deeply troubling. The best way to reconcile our divided feelings about these actions – which is entirely purposeful and the whole point of the story – is to imagine that Death Wish is taking place in some heightened version of reality, one in which fear and despair run rampant, and these characters live in a nightmarish landscape where violence is seemingly the only solution. The idea that crime only begets more crime is investigated as the moral foundation of the film, but it subverts common perceptions of reality in order to present this unorthodox depiction of the world and its inhabitants. This is not the kind of action film in which we are thrilled and excited by the depiction of revenge, and instead of being entertaining and enthralling (as we often see in a lot of similar films), the violence is genuinely disturbing and quite harsh. Death Wish is perhaps best described as being a slasher film told from the killer’s perspective, and where his motives are known from the start – and the same sense of terror and dread is present, only being compounded by deep philosophical conversations around the ethics of revenge, and how retribution is not always the solution we may think it is, but also that it isn’t entirely avoidable in a society in which violence is seen as the only appropriate answer.

Considering it came right at the height of the exploitation movement, in which many ambitious filmmakers were having their visions realized through being given the funding to make their films on their own terms, there was a level of freedom afforded to the director, especially one who had a proven track record coming into this film. Winner, who was brought onto this film based almost entirely on his body of work consisting of a range of gritty, violent films, was a fascinating choice to helm this film, and the style and wit he brings to the proceedings are almost as integral to the identity of the film as the violence. Death Wish is an extraordinarily stylish film – it is extremely bleak and takes place in a version of New York City in which the colours are muted (to the point where the protagonist’s decision to repaint his entire apartment in the most garish, nauseating shade of orange has thematic relevance since a sudden burst of colour in a dreary landscape is impossible to ignore) and the characters move at a very different tempo than we would see in reality. This adheres to the idea of dismantling conventions and presenting a more off-kilter version of reality, but it also has artistic significance, and Winner crafts an exceptionally complex film that is as visually and aurally captivating as it is narratively compelling. We may not always expect a film like Death Wish to be this stylish, but the slick direction and very precise approach to the story are notable from the first frames, where the unconventional framing, coupled with a score that is almost contradictory to the dark, sinister tone of the film (the music being composed and performed by jazz pioneer Herbie Hancock, who lends the film certain credence with his score), underlines the unorthodox nature of the film as a whole. This is certainly a film in which the atmosphere is the most important element, which is the area in which Winner has the most experience, evoking a very specific mood in his effort to tell this story, which is as challenging as it is unconventional, contributing a very specific kind of tone that perfectly defines the story and its underlying philosophy.

Death Wish is the rare kind of film that encourages the viewer to surrender to the harsh emotions, and if we can leave this film feeling anything other than existential dread and fear, then it’s likely the entire purpose of the film has been overlooked. Discomfort and despair are powerful narrative tools, and something that Winner utilizes perfectly, and which remains one of the primary reasons his direction of this film is so utterly impressive, despite its apparent simplicity and tendency towards being more unconventional in how it explores some very serious and sobering themes. As a whole, Death Wish is a fascinating project, an overly violent film that neither condones nor condemns the act of vigilante justice (one of the main sources of controversy was its refusal to offer any clear statement towards the main character’s actions, with the general rule of thumb is that silence is equated to encouragement, an outdated but unfortunately common trend), but which also makes some profoundly interesting statements about the nature of society and how it is rapidly crumbling around us as a result of the rise in crime and the lack of consequences that befall those who engage in these violent acts, to the point where the only way to remedy it is through even more violence. Bleak and unforgiving, but also genuinely quite effective in its underlying commentary, the film is a masterful blend of revenge thriller and psychological drama, anchored by an iconic performance and driven by a director whose brilliance is channelled into quite an unorthodox production. Harsh but effective, Death Wish more than earns its place within the canon of films that use controversy as a foundation for genuinely interesting social and cultural commentary, which is one of the many reasons it has remained so relevant, even half a century since its release.