Death Sentence

In this obvious, earnestly cartoonish and emotionally retarded tale of violence begetting violence (and of vigilante movies begetting other vigilante movies), a successful middle-class risk analyst (Kevin Bacon) unsuccessfully analyzes the risk of making war on the gang bangers who murder his son. Mayhem ensues—bullet holes, plot holes—with dumbly foreshadowing dialogue, overzealously gritty production design and affectedly bleached-out digital photography, plus a nauseating soundtrack hodgepodge of sentimental orchestral sludge, breathy down tempo pop and tasteless guitar rawk. Deservedly unknown screenwriter Ian Jeffers adapts Brian Garfield’s novel for 30-going-on-13-year-old director James Wan (Saw). Even with an only-in-it-for-the-paycheck performance, Bacon’s the best thing about this hunk of heavy cheese, although John Goodman also enjoys himself as a skuzzy gun dealer and fellow disappointed father.