Here ya go:

Point Blank: A Jack Reacher in a Double-Breasted Suit

Picture this: Walker. Not one of my Reacher ilk, mind you, but cut from the same weathered cloth. Scarred like a roadmap, eyes like chips of ice reflecting a sun gone cold. Lee Marvin plays him, Walker, in Point Blank – a movie that's equal parts nitro and grit, a hard-boiled tale spun of betrayal and retribution.

Forget your fancy gadgets and high-tech heroics. Walker fights with steel, brains, and a fist honed on years of scraping by in the underbelly. He's got a plan, sharp as a switchblade, to reclaim what was taken from him – a double-cross, a bullet in the gut, and a dame left for dead.

The story? Tight as a drum. Walker walks out of the morgue, vengeance simmering in his gut. He hooks up with Lynne, a dame with fire in her eyes and a score to settle of her own. They're two halves of a whole, a walking Molotov cocktail on a collision course with the *******s who screwed them over.

Marvin owns the screen. He's not Reacher, no sir. He's older, slower, the scars deeper. But there's a simmering fury, a feral cunning that chills you to the bone. He can crack a wise with a smirk, then turn lethal in a heartbeat. You believe every punch, every growl, every bullet that whizzes by his ear.

The setting? San Francisco, not some backwater burg. But it ain't the tourist postcard. This is the city's dark underbelly, where shadows crawl and deals are struck in smoke-filled rooms. The camera lingers on grimy sidewalks, dive bars reeking of stale beer and cheap whiskey, and dames with hearts as hard as the diamonds they pawn.

The pace? It doesn't dawdle. Every scene slams like a shot of bad bourbon, sharp and potent. Shootouts erupt in tight spaces, fists fly like hammers, and double-crosses twist the plot like a pretzel dipped in betrayal. You find yourself leaning forward, knuckles white, desperate to see what dirty trick Walker pulls next.

Is it perfect? Hell no. The dames ain't as fleshed out as they could be, the villains lack the teeth of a Reacher villain, and the ending ain't exactly sunshine and rainbows. But that's the point, ain't it? This ain't a fairy tale. This is life in the gutter, where revenge comes with a price and redemption, if it exists at all, tastes like a shot of regret chaser with regret chaser.

So, would I recommend it? You bet your bottom dollar. If you like your heroes flawed, your plots twisty, and your action raw and brutal, then Point Blank is your shot of hard liquor. Just remember, this ain't a Reacher story. This is Walker's dance with the devil, and you're invited to watch him two-step to the brink.

Just don't blink. You might miss the bullet meant for you.

Lee Child review. (With apologies, yet another one from my pal Bard.)