WHAT an unpleasant film... soulless, heartless and, indeed, artless.

Rootin', tootin' FBI agent Frank Castle (Tom Jane) ticks off his last job and heads off for comfortable retirement with the young wife and child.

The thing is, during the course of his last job - to intercept a consignment of illegal arms - young Bobby Saint gets killed.

Bobby is the son of all-round bad guy Howard Saint (John Travolta) and dad is none too pleased his boy has bitten the dust, so at his wife's behest, he orders the slaughter of Castle's entire family.

You can kill the Castles but you don't kill Frank that easily. Instead, the Saint family have created a monster driven by revenge. Let's call him The Punisher.

One of Marvel's darker creations, The Punisher rights wrongs and offs the bad guys the law can't touch. He's (yawn) a tortured soul (yawn) doomed to eternal unhappiness (yawn) whose only solace from his (yawn) alcohol-enhanced (yawn) suicidal tendencies is to (yawn) kill (yawn) bad (yawn) guys (yawn).

As needless senseless violence goes, The Punisher is fully stocked. Travolta and Patton could have faxed their performances in and Jane's principal function on-screen is to show off his well-sculpted physique at every opportunity.

Do yourself a favour and give this a miss.

See it at Odeon