Quentin Tarantino also makes a “special guest” appearance in the director’s chair. Responsible for the scene in which Dwight is driving to “the pits” and talking to Jackie Boy’s corpse, Tarantino wanted Jackie Boy’s Pez-dispenser-of-a-head to have an affect on his speech. Also in this scene, Tarantino directed Dwight to verbalize his thoughts, instead of using a voiceover; this way, the scene stands out and seems all-the-more surreal. With Tarantino’s garnishes and Rodriguez and Miller’s meat and potatoes, Sin City is a modern-day Pulp Fiction and a feast for comic-book noir buffs.
For those who appreciate cult classics, Sin City deserves the status. While its three-pronged storyline – jolted with brilliance – is enough to push you to your knees, its brute force and style are enough to knock you flat—face first into the mud. Sin City is as gritty as a mouthful of sand and as machismo as The World’s Strongest Man--dripping with adrenaline and infused with a drum full of anabolic steroids.
Throw all of the trash talk - concerning sexism and nihilism - down the drain, and immerse yourself in this wet, stark, and insanely satisfying endeavor. If it is a stylistic sock to the jaw and the darkest, most unabated work of the year you yearn for, then search no further; Sin City is the remedy for every cinematic woe attributed to uniformity. (**** out of ****)