For the last 13 days, I've been consumed by a singular urge. Mercifully, it subsides in the presence of everyday scholastic or social enterprise, but the instant I turn on my television, my yearning begins anew. The last two weeks have been agonizing, but the light at the end of the tunnel arrives tomorrow. "Sin City" opens nationwide, and I cannot wait for a second visit to the greatest film I've seen in years.
Classifying the film as a mere adaptation of Frank Miller's renowned comic book series is the understatement of the year, and an injustice to the work of co-directors Robert Rodriguez and Miller. "Sin City" is pure translation-living, breathing pulp fiction with striking imagery that compels the viewer, regardless of familiarity with the source material.
Grounded in the pulpy, noir roots of mid-20th century comics that our fathers hid under their boyhood mattresses, the narrative of "Sin City" is a loosely interwoven anthology of three tales. Each vignette features a hard-luck loser seeking justice in a desolate world populated by crooked cops, corrupt politicians, cannibalistic clergymen and strippers-lots and lots of strippers.
From the incendiary action of "The Hard Goodbye" to the simmering anxiety of "The Yellow Bastard," Miller's unofficial coda to the "Dirty Harry" franchise, each story transpires with a unique flavor while maintaining the film's central cohesiveness.
Replicating the temporal hopscotch perfected in "Pulp Fiction" is a Herculean endeavor, to say the least, but Rodriguez and Miller succeed with a razor-sharp style that saturates every frame. After a brief interlude featuring an ice-cold hit man (Josh Hartnett), Rodriguez and Miller cock their collective hammer, aim and pull the trigger straight into the belly of the beast.
During the prologue of "The Yellow Bastard," we meet Hartigan (Bruce Willis), the only honest cop in Sin City. Though a day away from retirement, Hartigan is determined to stop a serial killer preying on young girls, weak heart be damned.
Hartigan gets his man, only to discover that the killer is the son of a prominent politician. After a bullet-riddled finale, the fate of everyone is uncertain: It's time to meet Marv (Mickey Rourke).
With a career summarized in bargain-bins around the world, Mickey Rourke desperately needed a role to remind the public that he was still alive, cinematically and-perhaps-literally.
This is it, folks: Marv is the coolest big-screen badass since the Terminator. What exactly Marv does to merit this distinction cannot be detailed in a family oriented publication, but his id-unleashed antics had people literally jumping out of their seats in malevolent triumph.
The beefed-up Rourke is the ultimate luminary in "Sin City," transforming a tepid tough-guy role into a psychotic, mesmerizing whirlwind of violence and rage. After he wakens next to a dead hooker he fell in love with, Marv's bloody trail of vengeance leads to the twisted father-and-son team of Cardinal Roark (Rutger Hauer) and Kevin (Elijah Wood, in his creepiest role yet). Without ruining things, let's just say that the not-so-good Cardinal has a very literal interpretation of the Eucharist.
In "The Big Fat Kill," we meet Dwight (Clive Owen), a private eye who surgically altered his face to hide from a checkered past. When Dwight's girlfriend, Shellie (Brittany Murphy), runs afoul of her scumbag ex, Dwight quickly realizes that Jackie Boy (Benicio Del Toro) is out for blood.
Dwight pursues Jackie Boy to Old Town, a lawless district of Sin City where women of the night have absolute authority, provided no cops are killed. Sure enough, Jackie Boy's abusive temperament draws the wrath of the locals, and he meets a gory demise.
Unfortunately, Jackie Boy is the nickname of Detective 'Iron' Jack Rafferty-a cop has been murdered. To avoid a full-scale war with the police and the mafia, Dwight and the girls must eliminate all traces of Jackie Boy's death.
Filmed with a fanatic's eye for details, "Sin City" will appease everyone from the hardcore comic geek to the completely comic illiterate. Rodriguez transfers Miller's art into a litany of panel-perfect money shots scored by terse, grim narration-a time-warp metronome to the heyday of Cagney and Bogey.
Like last year's "Sky Captain," "Sin City" is filmed entirely in digital video. Unlike "Sky Captain," the lush visuals of "Sin City" resonate with a physical presence on-screen. Rodriguez strictly adheres to Miller's stark black-and-white artwork, carefully interspersing splashes of color when necessary.
The digital format is still relatively new, but future filmmakers will revere "Sin City" with the same admiration granted to "Jurassic Park" and "Terminator 2" in pioneering CGI effects.
Quite simply, "Sin City" stomps ass with a boot the size of Italy. Boasting revolutionary visuals, career-best performances from each member of its incredible cast and a wicked dose of pure ultra-violence, "Sin City" is destined for enshrinement in the pantheon of cult cinema.
"Sin City" immortalizes Hollywood's past while boldly defining its future-a sure bet for one of the decade's best films.
