Overall Rating
 Awesome: 59.57%
Worth A Look: 16.98%
Average: 4.94%
Pretty Bad: 11.73%
Total Crap: 6.79%
18 reviews, 216 user ratings
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| Sin City |
by Erik Childress
"Is That The Best You Can Do? Yeah, I Agree."
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The year was 2005. It had been a long three months. Sitting in the dark corners of the movie theater, normally my safe haven, I was experiencing a horror that couldn’t be equaled even out on the mean streets of the night. Brute men, at a last gasp of their dignity, teaming up to babysit the wretched spawns of writers summoned by the devil. A vengeful God was doing his best to match his nemesis by frightening his minions with images of creepy children, wolves and Sandra Bullock sequels, but not so much to earn an “R” rating. I was sick to my stomach. I could taste the bile eating away at my tongue from the words I spewed to warn others of these atrocities. But nobody listened. I am alone. The only solace I could find was in my trip to Sin City. It was here I knew where pleasure would engulf me; where the blood spilled was not from the gaping knife wound in Uwe Boll’s chest but from the filmmaker and author determined to bring their vision to those dark corners I treasured. It was in Sin City where I was saved.I remember reading about this place years ago. It was a place of nightmares that became a dream to anyone who could stomach the stories of revenge and bloody murder of a long forgotten era evoked by Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett and later by names like Peckinpah and Tarantino. Frank Miller was the author’s name; a God to those who knew him. Just another name to the mortals who never picked up a graphic novel. I was one of those mortals, but I heard and remembered the syllables of his name through the whispers of the back alleys. Another man, Rodriguez was his name. Robert to those who knew him. He knew what Miller was selling and he wanted to put it in motion. Robert wouldn’t stoop to assuming full credit. So he quit the Guild of Directors just so Frank’s name could appear above his in the titles. Robert was a man of honor.
With titles like Sin City, That Yellow Bastard and The Big Fat Kill, this was precisely the escape I needed from a world of corruption and moral fiber run amok. From its opening frames racing by, but taking its time to establish a mood and a speak alien to the young folk of today, Sin City is instantly its own world. Its starkness is clear, but inviting enough to welcome us in. A seemingly chance meeting on a balcony sets us up for the madness to come.
A cop named Hartigan (Bruce Willis, doing his best work in a decade) is on the trail on a child molestor (Nick Stahl); an evil son-of-a-bitch who cloaks himself in the warm blanket of his daddy’s political connections. A brute man who calls himself Marv (Mickey Rourke, earning his Pulp Fiction comeback) is determined to hunt down the person responsible for stealing the life of the only woman who would love him. Dwight (Clive Owen, simply the man) is a mercenary out to save the turf of a gang of prostitutes, breaking the truce of their streets after a run-in with the unsavory Jack Rafferty (Benicio Del Toro, the perfect portrait of restrained scumbaggery.)
What would a city of sin be though without the tough dames and broads who aim straight for our hearts and can make a good man do unspeakable evil? Rosario Dawson’s Gail would never let her gals down, especially not with sword-wielding Miho (Devon Aoki); the silent one who would just as easily mistake your head for a stick of warm butter. The girl I once knew as Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel) has now become Becky, whose piercing blue eyes are like a window into the soul you plan to lose with her. Marv wasn’t kidding when he described Goldie’s (Jaime King) breasts as perfect. But he jabbered his gums too quickly before we could get a load of Lucille (Carla Gugino), a lesbian with a body so perfect she could send any man running for a sex change just so he could spend a night with her. And, of course, there’s Nancy. Nancy Callahan (Jessica Alba). The object of lust so pure that no man with a heart could look at her without feeling guilty.
Sin City quenched the taste of blood I hadn’t had in a long time. Not a quarter of an hour could tick away on the hands of time before someone was shot, stabbed, hung, electrocuted, exploded, emasculated, decapitated or eaten. It was beautiful. But as my sick fascination with evil being punished got the better of me, I began to wonder if there was more than just the violence; perhaps something deeper that lurked behind the bodies and the blood spilled. To my surprise, there was.Revenge can not be a daydream, and certainly can not be carried out, by those who didn’t lose something that made their heart beat out of whack at least once. You shall find that perspective too in the story which wraps around the others with the man whose life was snatched away by a world of power that doesn’t want him to do the honorable thing. Maybe you’ll find it sooner in the story of the man who fought depravity at its own disturbing level. There’s not cause for celebration in its final moments for the acts committed, but genuine heartbreak. Sin City may seem like the simplistic boundary where good and evil collide; a world of black-and-white where bloodshed begat morals. But Rodriguez and Miller have used colors to remind us of the pain; the red bled by the heroes and inflicted by the villains, the semblance of humanity in the irises rising to the occasion or giving into temptation. Most of all, it’s the ability of true artists to merge their inspirations and bring us out of one hell into a completely different one only to hear us mutter “Thank you.” I will be back, Sin City. Anyone care to join me?
link directly to this review at http://www.efilmcritic.com/review.php?movie=11918&reviewer=198
originally posted: 04/02/05 05:02:52
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USA
01-Apr-2005 (R)
DVD: 13-Dec-2005
UK
N/A
Australia
14-Jul-2005
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