This simply wondrous work of pure celluloid art deserves much better than the usual synopsis and critique format. So instead I'm just going to list reasons why this picture rules. 1) Charles Bronson as the ever-unflappable Paul Kersey is the very epitome of stoic, laconic and unflappable vigilante cool; this guy not only kills countless low-life criminal scum with a winning mix of style and ingenuity, but also sports one hell of a snazzy mustache to boot. 2) The street gang featured in this flick is a pretty mean and colorful bunch: Gavan O'Herlithy as vicious leader Fraker (you just have to love his gnarly reverse Mohawk haircut),a pre-"Bill and Ted" Alex Winter as the sleazy Hermosa, Ricco Ross as speed-snorting psycho Cuban, and, best of all, the incredible Kirk Taylor as swift, maniacal, chortling klepto the Giggler. Moreover, the gang is multi-racial, which enables the filmmakers to treat us to the touching and inspiring sight of various whites, blacks and Hispanics gleefully engaging in rape, murder, robbery, extortion, destruction of private property, and other such no-count nasty antics. 3) The dialogue is sheer cut-to-the-bone terse and eloquent poetry. Martin Balsam as tough World War II veteran Bennett Cross bellows the following heart-shattering lines as he watches his beloved place of business go down in flames: "My shop! My shop! That's my shop!" 4) Deborah Raffin as feisty public defender Kathryn Davis supplies some mighty fetching eye candy. Alas, after Raffin becomes romantically involved with Bronson the poor gal gets bumped off by the bad guys. Boy, now isn't that a shocking and unexpected plot development?

5) This no-holds-barred fierce and unflinching flick declares open season on everyone: pretty young women are raped (including foxy future "Star Trek: The Next Generation" TV series regular Marina Sirtis),little old ladies are brutally butchered, countless evil street slime are blown away, folks are set on fire, and Fraker even gets blasted into the next dimension with a rocket launcher. If raw, savage and over-the-top violence is your thing, then this movie is your crack, baby! 6) The acting is truly Oscar-worthy. Special kudos here to Joseph Gonzalez as Rodriguez; the scene with Gonzalez punching a table with tremendous angst and fury after he's told that his wife has just died is positively gut-wrenching in its stark poignancy. 7) Bronson packs plenty of heavy artillery. Besides the aforementioned rocket launcher, Charlie also uses a Wildey automatic and a vintage Browning machine gun to waste the villains left and right. 8) Legendary rock musician Jimmy Page whips up an exceptionally funky-jammin' jazz-rock fusion score. 8) Director Michael Winner treats the laughably ludicrous material with deliriously misguided seriousness, thereby ensuring that the cartoonish carnage rates as often sidesplitting and always entertaining high camp at its all-time most gloriously absurd and wildly implausible. The last third with the already cruddy urban cesspool neighborhood degenerating into an all-out war zone is the hilarious stuff total kitsch is made of. A true 80's action masterpiece.

Paul Kersey (Charles Bronson) returns back to NYC to visit an old friend Charley. He is murdered by a gang of street thugs. Paul arrives just in time to be arrested by the cops. Police inspector Richard Shriker (Ed Lauter) remembers Paul as the vigilante and decides to turn a blind eye to him doing his thing as long as he works for him. In jail, Paul runs afoul of Fraker (Gavan O'Herlihy) and his men. Kathryn Davis (Deborah Raffin) is his public defender. Bennett (Martin Balsam) is Charley's friend.

The gang is strictly 80s cheese. These are really silly cartoon characters. It's just thugs in a messed up neighborhood. It's nameless thugs with nameless victims. There is barely a story. There is barely a setup. It's nothing more than an isolated settlers in enemy territory. The franchise is only left with a B-movie. They even bring in a 60s motorcycle gang in the end when they burn down and blow up lots of stuff. At least, the whole place gets shot up in a violent orgy.

The third film of the Death Wish series is probably the worst of them, but it's a guilty pleasure of mine. I do so love the violence when the East New York neighborhood awakes and throws off the rule of punks.

After roaming the streets of New York in the first film and going back to Los Angeles in the second, Charles Bronson as the legendary urban vigilante Paul Kersey returns to New York to visit an old friend who is found murdered. He's questioned, but let go, but the police captain of the beleaguered 75th precinct which in real life does include the East New York area of Brooklyn, Ed Lauter, let's him go with a promise to unofficially do his vigilante thing in that neighborhood. It's getting so that the punks are seriously challenging the citizens in population growth.

Back in the day the East New York area was this middle class neighborhood of homes and churches that so typified Brooklyn. It became a prime example of urban decay. I well recall a local Assemblyman Vito P. Battista who also ran for Mayor of New York several times, declaring that it looked like London after the Blitz. Vito wasn't far wrong. And that is the real East New York you are seeing, lots of blocks of abandoned buildings and empty lots.

As in all Death Wish 3 films Bronson gets himself a woman and it's her death that galvanizes him into action. In this case it's Deborah Raffin who the punks set up in a fiery car crash.

That last half hour of Death Wish 3 is an urban fantasy when the whole neighborhood becomes a battleground as Bronson leads an aroused populace to clean up the neighborhood. Can't describe it, you've got to see it to believe it. More urban slime gets eradicated here than in all the other Death Wish films put together.

You have to see Death Wish 3, it's trashy, it's one of the most politically incorrect films ever made and great fun.