Even as the film slides into unintentional comedy, it's almost redeemed by John Goodman's demented supporting performance as a mysterious character who, in a better film, would have held the key to everything.
More tainted yuppie superhero wet dream, than the original Charles Bronson anti-inner city backlash burb paranoid freakout. And as a result, the lines are more clearly drawn as to distributed dark sides of these sympathy-challenged characters.
Is the movie trying to show how bloodlust and revenge can destroy a person? If so, it simultaneously revels in violence. Trying to have it both ways diminishes the entire undertaking, rendering it despicably hypocritical.