SIN CITY (2005), dir. Frank Miller, Robert Rodriguez, and Quentin Tarantino (guest director)
Sleaze, Style, and Salvation
"Sin City" paints a world where power corrupts, where the beating heart of a city, represented by the Roark clan, has corrupted absolutely. In this amped-up noir vision given us by comic book legend Frank Miller, and directors Robert Rodriguez ("Desperado," "Once Upon a Time in Mexico") and Quentin Tarantino ("Pulp Fiction," "Kill Bill"), the highest levels of political and religious authority conceal a seedy darkness that would make your skin crawl. Here in "Sin City," there are no angels. Only weathered mortals who walk a line between virtue and evil that is as hopelessly grey as the cinematography.
"Sin City" spins a trio of crime-related tales: Detective Hartigan (Bruce Willis), a good cop with a bad ticker, closes in on a serial child rapist whose father is the powerful Senator Roark (Powers Booth). Marv (Mickey Rourke), a hulking, pill-popping ex-con with a face even a mother would have trouble loving, wakes up after a one-night stand to find himself beside a dead blonde. Framed for her murder, Marv embarks on a mission, leaving a trail of pulverized (or worse) bodies in his wake. Lastly, another jailbird, Dwight (Clive Owen), finds himself a victim of circumstance, caught up in a war between the leather-bound female commandos of a liberated red light district, and a bone-crushing mobster named Manute (Michael Clarke Duncan), who makes Marv look puny by comparison.
Frank Miller’s graphic novel series of the same name is one of the most popular non-superhero comics of the last decade-and-a-half. I assume Rodriguez is a big fan, given how involved he reportedly wanted Miller to be. A great deal of care and reverance has clearly been lavished upon the completed film. "Sin City" the movie includes much of Miller’s particular hard-boiled speak, a large percentage of it presented as voiceover, a technique faithful to the source material.
"Sin City" the graphic novel used a lot of monologue blurbs. Translating it to voiceover is essential since Hartigan, Marv, and Dwight are each the strong, silent type. If the audience couldn’t get into their heads, it’s doubtful they’d be able to get a feel for the characters. The movie would be boring as a result of that emotional distance. Worse, viewers would be denied such witty banter as, "Hit men… No matter what you do to them, you never feel bad about it afterward," and "Take down Senator Roark. Yeah, right. Maybe after I’ve performed that little miracle, I’ll go punch out God."
Artistically, nothing I have seen compares to this movie. There are shots, such as Marv leaping feet-first down a stairwell from an above perspective, which look like they could have been lifted directly from a comic book. Another shot, Detective Hartigan from the waist up in the midst of a snowstorm, could be either a comic book panel or a sequence in a Hitchcock film. The black-and-white cinematography by jack-of-trades Rodriguez is wonderful throughout, as far as setting a mood. In the rankings of modern black-and-white cinematography, it’s a close second behind Roger Deakins’ work in "The Man Who Wasn’t There." Deakins’ work seemed slightly crisper, but maybe that’s because "Sin City" was done entirely with digital camera, in front of green screens (Rodriguez’ specialty).
"Sin City" was an extremely violent comic book. In adapting it for the screen, a lot of the violence, including beatings, characters being shot multiple, multiple times, limbs and organs being ripped off, was retained. The end result: A movie that ranks up there with Tarantino’s "Kill Bill" flicks, and Frank Miller’s screenplay for "Robocop 2," for most variety of methods for damaging the human body. Luckily, Miller and Rodriguez each show the soul of an artist as well as a sadist. They soften some of the worst violence in the movie by: (a) having it done offscreen, (b) using visual trickery to make it less realistic-looking, and (c) implementing black humor.
Killing someone offscreen is a cinematic technique that might predate color film stock. Rodriguez and Miller probably didn’t need Tarantino—who used it so effectively in "Reservoir Dogs’" infamous ear-slicing scene—to coach them. When a samurai-sword wielding hooker named Miho (Devon Aoki) draw-and-quarters Jackie Boy (Benicio Del Toro), a scumbag who won't take no for an answer, we only hear the sword swing, and see blood splatter on her face in close-up. It sounds gorier than it appears on the screen. The black-and-white photography makes it look like chocolate syrup. Also, it splashes Aoki’s face in a way that would only work if faces were completely flat, which they aren’t. Trust me, the effect is cartoony. Imagine how cream pies used to drip down Elmer Fudd’s face after Bugs Bunny would hit him with one.
The Jackie Boy slicing scene belongs to the category of visual trickery, too. During other moments, I suspect Miller and Rodriguez drew upon the comics to make dismemberments, and scenes of folks getting beaten to a pulp, more palatable. Fact is, blood on a page never looks as realistic as blood on a stage. I’ve perused many a comic book during my life, and blood is regularly colored black. End result: a gushing head wound looks no more offensive than an ink blot.
The filmmakers make similar aesthetic choices in "Sin City." When a character gets his arm chopped off, the stuff that comes pouring out has the runny consistency of blood. Through the use of digital coloring, however, it’s painted white. Not nearly sickening as the real thing. In another scene, a man literally gets his genitals ripped off, and his head pounded until all that’s left is a viscous spot. Even in a black-and-white motion picture, this kind of violence would be sickening. Luckily, even at his best, the character who gets mauled doesn’t resemble a human being so much as a swollen, jaundice-yellow blob. The puddle he leaves on the scenery looks like a mustard stain. It's more fascinating to look at than disgusting.
Finally, "Sin City’s" use of droll humor goes a long way towards making it viewable. Take, for example, the scene where Marv and his beautiful ex-parole officer ("Spy Kids’" Carla Gugino) find themselves imprisoned by the feral, razor-nailed "trophy collector" (Elijah Wood). Marv’s parole officer begins talking about the terrible atrocities their captor has committed. He’s even done something to her, but she is slow to reveal it. Gradually, she undoes a bandage over one of her hands, and as the music on the soundtrack gathers into a crescendo, at its height, she reveals the horrifying violation she has suffered. It is one of the most disturbing sights in the film, which is saying something. As the screen goes dark, I felt a jolt go through me and the audience.
Then the screen fades-in again, and the Carla Gugino character says, flatly, "Man, I need a cigarette." The audience laughed in relief. So did I. What skill, building tension, then using humor to quickly deflate our discomfort.
The multiple story structure of "Sin City," not to mention Quentin Tarantino’s name in the opening credits, might lead to inevitable comparisons between this movie and "Pulp Fiction." But these two films are very different animals. In Tarantino’s 1994 magnum opus, every subsequent chapter affected the way we interpreted the previous one. Structurally, the movie twisted back in on itself, yet somehow, tied up all its loose ends neatly. "Sin City" seems more interested in sprawling than twisting. The titular location (short for Basin City) is a character onto itself, and each chapter offers a different dark corner to peek into. On a whole, the movie is messier than "Pulp Fiction," but feels more comprehensive. Watching is like embarking on a grand tour of a most unwelcoming country.
What more can be said, other than "Sin City" is a world of uncompromising bleakness. Here, good doesn’t always triumph over evil, and political power holds greater sway than the truth. Everywhere lurk psychopaths and thieves, hired scumbags (numerous hit men, including one who appears in the film’s bookends, played by Josh Hartnett), dirty cops, and other fringe-dwellers. But if there’s one thing that redeems this cornucopia of street scum, it’s the noble streak that can be found in even the most vile.
Marv doggedly pursues the murderer of a woman he barely knew. Why? Because she was kind to him. To hear Marv tell it, hookers wouldn’t take money from him, and this blonde goddess gave herself for free. Dwight, meanwhile, gets involved in the war between the red light district and the mob, to save Gail (Rosario Dawson), a beautiful leather-bound vixen whom he was once involved with.
Hartigan, finally, has seen one too many dead little girls. He’s willing to cross the law, the thing he’s upheld all his life, to take down Junior Roark, a coward who hides behind his big daddy’s name. Some would argue that a cop who declares himself judge, jury, and executioner is no better than your average store-brand murderer. But something deserves to be said about Hartigan’s fatalistic attitude. "An old man dies, a young girl lives." To him, that sounds like a fair trade. Hartigan knows his actions will bring down all shapes and sizes of Hell upon his head. But someone’s got to stand up to the Roarks. Somebody’s got to do the right thing.
Rumor is, Robert Rodriguez dropped out of the Director’s Guild over the credits to "Sin City." He wanted Frank Miller and Quentin Tarantino to get co-directing honors, which he felt they deserved. The DGA said no. Robert Rodriguez burned his membership card.
I admit to not being a lifelong fan of Rodriguez’ various movies. The "Mariachi" trilogy had great moments, but never added up to much. "Sin City" is also sort of scatter-brained, though it’s easily the most accomplished effort by the director so far. However, if the DGA-fallout story happens to be true, I am now a fan of Rodriguez’ politics, as well as his latest movie. Good for him, choosing to fight the power. Hartigan, Marv, and Dwight would be proud.
Overall rating: **** (out of ****)
"Sin City" paints a world where power corrupts, where the beating heart of a city, represented by the Roark clan, has corrupted absolutely. In this amped-up noir vision given us by comic book legend Frank Miller, and directors Robert Rodriguez ("Desperado," "Once Upon a Time in Mexico") and Quentin Tarantino ("Pulp Fiction," "Kill Bill"), the highest levels of political and religious authority conceal a seedy darkness that would make your skin crawl. Here in "Sin City," there are no angels. Only weathered mortals who walk a line between virtue and evil that is as hopelessly grey as the cinematography.
"Sin City" spins a trio of crime-related tales: Detective Hartigan (Bruce Willis), a good cop with a bad ticker, closes in on a serial child rapist whose father is the powerful Senator Roark (Powers Booth). Marv (Mickey Rourke), a hulking, pill-popping ex-con with a face even a mother would have trouble loving, wakes up after a one-night stand to find himself beside a dead blonde. Framed for her murder, Marv embarks on a mission, leaving a trail of pulverized (or worse) bodies in his wake. Lastly, another jailbird, Dwight (Clive Owen), finds himself a victim of circumstance, caught up in a war between the leather-bound female commandos of a liberated red light district, and a bone-crushing mobster named Manute (Michael Clarke Duncan), who makes Marv look puny by comparison.
Frank Miller’s graphic novel series of the same name is one of the most popular non-superhero comics of the last decade-and-a-half. I assume Rodriguez is a big fan, given how involved he reportedly wanted Miller to be. A great deal of care and reverance has clearly been lavished upon the completed film. "Sin City" the movie includes much of Miller’s particular hard-boiled speak, a large percentage of it presented as voiceover, a technique faithful to the source material.
"Sin City" the graphic novel used a lot of monologue blurbs. Translating it to voiceover is essential since Hartigan, Marv, and Dwight are each the strong, silent type. If the audience couldn’t get into their heads, it’s doubtful they’d be able to get a feel for the characters. The movie would be boring as a result of that emotional distance. Worse, viewers would be denied such witty banter as, "Hit men… No matter what you do to them, you never feel bad about it afterward," and "Take down Senator Roark. Yeah, right. Maybe after I’ve performed that little miracle, I’ll go punch out God."
Artistically, nothing I have seen compares to this movie. There are shots, such as Marv leaping feet-first down a stairwell from an above perspective, which look like they could have been lifted directly from a comic book. Another shot, Detective Hartigan from the waist up in the midst of a snowstorm, could be either a comic book panel or a sequence in a Hitchcock film. The black-and-white cinematography by jack-of-trades Rodriguez is wonderful throughout, as far as setting a mood. In the rankings of modern black-and-white cinematography, it’s a close second behind Roger Deakins’ work in "The Man Who Wasn’t There." Deakins’ work seemed slightly crisper, but maybe that’s because "Sin City" was done entirely with digital camera, in front of green screens (Rodriguez’ specialty).
"Sin City" was an extremely violent comic book. In adapting it for the screen, a lot of the violence, including beatings, characters being shot multiple, multiple times, limbs and organs being ripped off, was retained. The end result: A movie that ranks up there with Tarantino’s "Kill Bill" flicks, and Frank Miller’s screenplay for "Robocop 2," for most variety of methods for damaging the human body. Luckily, Miller and Rodriguez each show the soul of an artist as well as a sadist. They soften some of the worst violence in the movie by: (a) having it done offscreen, (b) using visual trickery to make it less realistic-looking, and (c) implementing black humor.
Killing someone offscreen is a cinematic technique that might predate color film stock. Rodriguez and Miller probably didn’t need Tarantino—who used it so effectively in "Reservoir Dogs’" infamous ear-slicing scene—to coach them. When a samurai-sword wielding hooker named Miho (Devon Aoki) draw-and-quarters Jackie Boy (Benicio Del Toro), a scumbag who won't take no for an answer, we only hear the sword swing, and see blood splatter on her face in close-up. It sounds gorier than it appears on the screen. The black-and-white photography makes it look like chocolate syrup. Also, it splashes Aoki’s face in a way that would only work if faces were completely flat, which they aren’t. Trust me, the effect is cartoony. Imagine how cream pies used to drip down Elmer Fudd’s face after Bugs Bunny would hit him with one.
The Jackie Boy slicing scene belongs to the category of visual trickery, too. During other moments, I suspect Miller and Rodriguez drew upon the comics to make dismemberments, and scenes of folks getting beaten to a pulp, more palatable. Fact is, blood on a page never looks as realistic as blood on a stage. I’ve perused many a comic book during my life, and blood is regularly colored black. End result: a gushing head wound looks no more offensive than an ink blot.
The filmmakers make similar aesthetic choices in "Sin City." When a character gets his arm chopped off, the stuff that comes pouring out has the runny consistency of blood. Through the use of digital coloring, however, it’s painted white. Not nearly sickening as the real thing. In another scene, a man literally gets his genitals ripped off, and his head pounded until all that’s left is a viscous spot. Even in a black-and-white motion picture, this kind of violence would be sickening. Luckily, even at his best, the character who gets mauled doesn’t resemble a human being so much as a swollen, jaundice-yellow blob. The puddle he leaves on the scenery looks like a mustard stain. It's more fascinating to look at than disgusting.
Finally, "Sin City’s" use of droll humor goes a long way towards making it viewable. Take, for example, the scene where Marv and his beautiful ex-parole officer ("Spy Kids’" Carla Gugino) find themselves imprisoned by the feral, razor-nailed "trophy collector" (Elijah Wood). Marv’s parole officer begins talking about the terrible atrocities their captor has committed. He’s even done something to her, but she is slow to reveal it. Gradually, she undoes a bandage over one of her hands, and as the music on the soundtrack gathers into a crescendo, at its height, she reveals the horrifying violation she has suffered. It is one of the most disturbing sights in the film, which is saying something. As the screen goes dark, I felt a jolt go through me and the audience.
Then the screen fades-in again, and the Carla Gugino character says, flatly, "Man, I need a cigarette." The audience laughed in relief. So did I. What skill, building tension, then using humor to quickly deflate our discomfort.
The multiple story structure of "Sin City," not to mention Quentin Tarantino’s name in the opening credits, might lead to inevitable comparisons between this movie and "Pulp Fiction." But these two films are very different animals. In Tarantino’s 1994 magnum opus, every subsequent chapter affected the way we interpreted the previous one. Structurally, the movie twisted back in on itself, yet somehow, tied up all its loose ends neatly. "Sin City" seems more interested in sprawling than twisting. The titular location (short for Basin City) is a character onto itself, and each chapter offers a different dark corner to peek into. On a whole, the movie is messier than "Pulp Fiction," but feels more comprehensive. Watching is like embarking on a grand tour of a most unwelcoming country.
What more can be said, other than "Sin City" is a world of uncompromising bleakness. Here, good doesn’t always triumph over evil, and political power holds greater sway than the truth. Everywhere lurk psychopaths and thieves, hired scumbags (numerous hit men, including one who appears in the film’s bookends, played by Josh Hartnett), dirty cops, and other fringe-dwellers. But if there’s one thing that redeems this cornucopia of street scum, it’s the noble streak that can be found in even the most vile.
Marv doggedly pursues the murderer of a woman he barely knew. Why? Because she was kind to him. To hear Marv tell it, hookers wouldn’t take money from him, and this blonde goddess gave herself for free. Dwight, meanwhile, gets involved in the war between the red light district and the mob, to save Gail (Rosario Dawson), a beautiful leather-bound vixen whom he was once involved with.
Hartigan, finally, has seen one too many dead little girls. He’s willing to cross the law, the thing he’s upheld all his life, to take down Junior Roark, a coward who hides behind his big daddy’s name. Some would argue that a cop who declares himself judge, jury, and executioner is no better than your average store-brand murderer. But something deserves to be said about Hartigan’s fatalistic attitude. "An old man dies, a young girl lives." To him, that sounds like a fair trade. Hartigan knows his actions will bring down all shapes and sizes of Hell upon his head. But someone’s got to stand up to the Roarks. Somebody’s got to do the right thing.
Rumor is, Robert Rodriguez dropped out of the Director’s Guild over the credits to "Sin City." He wanted Frank Miller and Quentin Tarantino to get co-directing honors, which he felt they deserved. The DGA said no. Robert Rodriguez burned his membership card.
I admit to not being a lifelong fan of Rodriguez’ various movies. The "Mariachi" trilogy had great moments, but never added up to much. "Sin City" is also sort of scatter-brained, though it’s easily the most accomplished effort by the director so far. However, if the DGA-fallout story happens to be true, I am now a fan of Rodriguez’ politics, as well as his latest movie. Good for him, choosing to fight the power. Hartigan, Marv, and Dwight would be proud.
Overall rating: **** (out of ****)
Labels: ****, 2005, Bruce Willis, Frank Miller, Mickey Rourke, Quentin Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez
posted by Phil | 1:45 PM
4 Comments:
>Frank Miller’s graphic novel series of the same name is one of the most influential comic books every published
I assume that by every you mean ever. Isn't that a little much? It would be an exageration to say that Sin City is one of the most influential comics written by Miller, saying one of the most influential comics ever written by anyone is just ridiculous.
Perhaps calling "Sin City" one of the most popular non-superhero comics of recent times would be more accurate. But what exactly is wrong with calling a particular comic book one of the most influential ever published? I would definitely say that about "Action Comics," or "The Amazing Spider-Man."
There's nothing wrong with calling a comic book one of the most influential comics ever, so long as it's true. One of the most popular non-superhero comics of recent times is much more accurate.
Got this at http://movies.yahoo.com/shop?d=hp&id=1808560209&cf=prev
"In the early 1990s, when most of the rest of the comic book industry was going in a muscle-bound, lowest-common-denominator direction that is now commonly derided by fans who felt stifled by what they perceived as a lack of originality, acclaimed writer/artist Frank Miller had long since abandoned the mainstream to focus on taking his artistic style in a new direction. With the first "Sin City" stories in 1993, Frank Miller abandoned all colors but stark black and white, creating images of super-stylized film action and suspense that were heavily influenced by the blackest (both visually and thematically) of film noir movies, as well as traditional engraving arts. To fans, "Sin City" was the masterwork that Miller had obviously been working toward his whole career... by stripping out all the fat, he accomplished a gripping visual style that seemed like it was from another century, it was so daring. Each panel could hang in an art gallery, the book was so well crafted. "Sin City" ultimately proved very influential, with Mike Mignola's Hellboy arguably being heavily influenced by Miller's artistic innovations."
How influential is that Miller/Mignola style today? If I were to go to a comic book store, how many covers done in a similar style (by different artists) would I have to find as evidence of said style's influence?
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