Release Date:
04/01/2005
Lots of movies promise you a thrill ride, but Robert Rodriguez' and Frank Miller's Sin City liquors you up, slaps you around a bit, sticks a few Band-Aids on ya, and then beats you some more. With its stark black-and-white images (this isn't a comic book adaptation—these are the actual pages brought to life), street-poet dialogue, and supporting cast of punchy palookas and femme fatales, Sin City looks and feels almost like a classic '40s noir flick. Almost. Because you soon learn this ain't no stodgy tale of dames and dicks. This is a wild, stylized, hyper-violent experience that, at times, makes you squirm like a horror film.
The film resembles Pulp Fiction in a lot of ways—from its separate-but-interlocking stories to its cooler-than-cool cast and wanton bloodshed—but imagine if Tarantino killed the humor and replaced it with more bloodshed. Rodriguez and Miller (that's right, the guy who wrote and drew the comic also co-directs) don't have time for yuks, and the few splatters of comedy that do appear are pitch black. Although some of the stories and characters get short-shrifted, the heart of the movie is Mickey Rourke's Marv. A pug-ugly meathead with a soft center despite his exceptional ability at all things violent, it's during his storyline that the movie digs in and doesn't let go. Bruce Willis' Hartigan is a close second—the grizzled flatfoot might be the last decent cop in Sin City, and the role fits Willis as well as leather chaps fit Jessica Alba (which is to say, perfectly). So if you're the kind of guy who likes gorgeous women wearing next to nothing, two-fisted tales of street justice, and eye-popping visuals, then check this out.
Actually, we'll do you one better: You'll go and see Sin City now, dirtbag, if you know what's good for ya.
The film resembles Pulp Fiction in a lot of ways—from its separate-but-interlocking stories to its cooler-than-cool cast and wanton bloodshed—but imagine if Tarantino killed the humor and replaced it with more bloodshed. Rodriguez and Miller (that's right, the guy who wrote and drew the comic also co-directs) don't have time for yuks, and the few splatters of comedy that do appear are pitch black. Although some of the stories and characters get short-shrifted, the heart of the movie is Mickey Rourke's Marv. A pug-ugly meathead with a soft center despite his exceptional ability at all things violent, it's during his storyline that the movie digs in and doesn't let go. Bruce Willis' Hartigan is a close second—the grizzled flatfoot might be the last decent cop in Sin City, and the role fits Willis as well as leather chaps fit Jessica Alba (which is to say, perfectly). So if you're the kind of guy who likes gorgeous women wearing next to nothing, two-fisted tales of street justice, and eye-popping visuals, then check this out.
Actually, we'll do you one better: You'll go and see Sin City now, dirtbag, if you know what's good for ya.