When it comes to consoling 19-year-old girls, I'm about as expert as a palsy patient performing brain surgery with a pipe wrench.' The words come from John Hartigan, a benevolent cop trying to rescue a little girl from a degenerate. Cut.
A misanthrope hulk called Marv wakes up next to the corpse of a hooker. He plunges into a killing spree, seeking revenge. Cut.
Another nice guy accidentally kills a hero cop. He finds himself in the role of peacemaker, with crooked policemen on one side and a town of deadly prostitutes on the other. Cut.
You've hit Sin City.
The backdrop for these stories, this is the place where you can find anything, provided you walk down the right back alley. It is a metropolis devoid of morality. A place as corrupt as they come, crime-infested to the core. Heavily influenced by film-noir, it makes for an astonishing, terrifying piece of cinema.
Which movie would you recommend?
Sin City is actually Basin City, the place where these unfold. Directed by Robert Rodriguez (Spy Kids, Desperado), Frank Miller and Quentin Tarantino (as special guest director), it is an adaptation of Miller's cult graphic novels Sin City, The Big Fat Kill and That Yellow Bastard. And, from the eye-popping opening sequence, you know you're in for a ride: A man and woman are about to embrace. Her lips are scarlet. He is smooth and suave. He lights her cigarette. They talk. Beneath them, the city sits still. Then, murder. The action begins.
This is a film that pays solemn tribute to the comic book as an art form. In stark black-and-white, it is a testament to Rodriguez' skill that it still manages to make you ache. Everything you see -- except for the actors and some props -- is artificial, with the rest composited by computers. Told in a disjointed style, the stories run one into the other, reality merging in and out of the world of the comic. Even the blood, when it spills, is never red.
The stars of the film are, well, the stars. And that's another reason Sin City demands attention the surprising performances it elicits from its cast. Marv (Mickey Rourke) clearly rules, playing an ugly brute to chilling perfection. He's out to get the killers of a woman who sleeps with him just once, a prostitute called Goldie (Jaime King). Then there's Bruce Willis, who plays John Hartigan, a cop with a weak heart who is about to retire. Trying to save a girl called Nancy (Jessica Alba) from a paedophile, he ends up imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit. Finally, there's Dwight (Clive Owen), an ex-photographer who accidentally kills a cop called Jackie Boy (Benicio Del Toro) and has to cover it up to save the prostitutes of Old Towne from the wrath of the police.
Strewn along these storylines are a bunch of other performances that make you sit up, from characters like Shelley (Brittany Murphy), Becky (Alexis Bledel), Yellow Bastard (Nick Stahl) and -- big surprise -- the murderous Kevin (Elijah Wood). Jessica Alba, despite her very beautiful body, is the only letdown. In conjunction with a heart-wrenching plot, these talented men and women successfully create a bleak, black world that's as cruel as it is amusing. A fairy tale for adults, if you will. Think sadism. Dismemberment. Over the top murder. Just like a comic book.
I believe Sin City works better on DVD than most other films, simply because the big screen could kill parts of it. You could miss the dialogue, for one, and someone chewing popcorn beside you could lead to some real-life violence.
As for the DVD features, there are none apart from subtitles in Spanish (if you care for them), audio tracks in DTS 5.1 and Dolby Digital 5.1, and a behind-the-scenes featurette. Not even a director's commentary. The real extras will, in all probability, come with a special edition later this year.
What you will find, however, are lots of scenes like one featuring Dwight and Jackie Boy. Holding a razor to the latter's face, Dwight whispers, 'I'm Shellie's new boyfriend and I'm out of my mind. If you so much as talk to her or even think her name, I'll cut you in ways that'll make you useless to a woman.'
Who the heck needs extras?
