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What is there left to say about Frank Miller's Sin City that you don't already know?

If you are reading this review, chances are you've hit one of the 29,000+ web site dedicated to the artist, the movies, the actors or the tight outfits that the super hot females pour themselves into. If you're the real deal, then you've already posted several explanations on atforumz.com about how the first Sin City book was the most logical version to adapt to the big screen (Yes. We're talking about you Crispy Happy Noodle Boy).

For all those passionate Frank Miller fans, here's something you will be happy to know: This film was made just for you. If you could imagine a film that literally looks like it was lifted frame-for-frame from your cherished Miller graphic novel, then you can start lining up at the theaters right now.

This film directed by a comic connoisseur's most dreamy trifecta-Miller, Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino-drips with all enough, grit, crime and sex to make the most die hard comic book fan feel right at home. But even if you have no idea who Miller is, there's enough juicy pulp here to keep your brainwaves tingling for the marathon two-plus-hour viewing experience.

Just know that along your tour of the city, the film's three intersecting stories are your MapQuest nightmare-if you're not careful the damn thing can lead you in circles. Comic book virgins may be led astray by the overlapping plots and the emotional voice-overs, but stay the course and you'll find the city's make-up to be a breathtaking, sublime nightmarish masterpiece.

Although there are reliable themes of love, kindness and revenge, this isn't your typical cuddly Hollywood water-down of a classic comic. There is no explanation for Marv's (Mickey Rourke) The Thing-inspired look; he just is what he is without the need for a spider bite to move the story along. And if there is an explanation for a jaded cop like John Hartigan (Bruce Willis) to save young Nancy Callahan from the clutches of Junior (Nick Stahl), it's not an easy explanation to swallow, except that little Nancy grows up to be Jessica Alba in a stripper's cowgirl costume.

There's also no real background information provided on Dwight (a very weak Clive Owen), the mysterious man whose soft spot for a troubled hooker (Brittany Murphy) proves to be his salvation. The film borrows from noir tough guy/endangered dame motifs to spin a large and grotesquely beautiful stories as repelling/compelling as any F.W. Murnau creation.

The ensemble cast reads like a list of Hollywood hottest stars like that perennial comeback Willis kid. Stand-out performances come from Rourke, who still exuded a little Body Heat intensity under tons of make-up, and Benicio Del Toro for his disgustingly hilarious car scene, which merits its own MTV Movie Awards category.



Rodriguez famously gave up his Director's Guild membership just to have Miller onboard as his co-pilot and Tarentino on as a special guest director. It's like having the three biggest geeks get together and make their pet project because they can. And don't judge Miller on other Hollywood attempts like Ben Affleck's Daredevil. Remember, this is the one and only film he signed his name to. The onscreen result is a blood-splattering work of art that anyone-comic book junkie or not-can appreciate.

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