The Sin City comics proved invaluable source material for allowing Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller to toy with a merger of film noir, digital landscapes, and a bevy of physically altered and barely recognizable stars.
The movie starts on a large balcony in the heart of the city. A woman, wearing a tight sparkling red dress (the only color on the screen) stands alone against the landscape. She’s approached by a charming young man with a pack of smokes. It doesn’t take long for things to go horribly wrong, but that’s the way life is in Sin City, a dingy grandiose locale where a corrupt religious leader has more power than the police and thong clad prostitutes carry more guns than the National Guard.
The characters that occupy the city are violent and sexual, leaning to the darker corners of Miller’s imagination. Junior, a senator’s son with a passion for young girls and murder, exemplifies Sin City’s power struggle. A town where the good guys are only one rape or murder away from being identical to their enemies. Marv doesn’t hurt women and John Hartigan kills dozens in the hope that he will save one innocent. It’s often that one ideal separating right from wrong and Sin City’s occupants prove that by allowing you to care for those that have it.
Sin City’s walk in the park mind-set stands as the test for most moviegoers. Regardless of the violence, sexual situations and nonchalant nudity, the film chugs along, never truly drawing attention to the many shockers it has up its sleeve. When Marv breaks a brick wall with a man’s skull, few take notice. The characters could be deemed 2-dimensional in that respect, but the heart of the story suggests otherwise. Their lives are situated in a dog-eat-dog city. To compromise themselves would be suicide.
Rodriguez, using his digital prowess, has created his most remarkable film to date. Miller’s comics have provided the correct amount of depth to counterbalance Rodriguez’s penchant for over-the-top violence. He’s a master filmmaker, but has proved on this outing that collaboration can create better art. While Once Upon A Time In Mexico and Desperado suffer from meandering plots and uneven pacing, Sin City manages to correct Rodriguez’s bad habits, melding his craftsmanship with Miller’s storytelling proficiency into something resembling a framed work of art. One that has teeth, carries a revolver, and wears stilettos.
Cross Posted at MRBenning's World
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