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Quick Facts:
After making a name for himself at DC and Marvel Comics, writer/artist Frank Miller brought his love of film noir to life with his Sin City comics, attracting genre fan Robert Rodriguez, who defied convention to give Miller a co-director credit. The entire film was shot on elaborate green screen sets to recreate Miller’s stark visuals, lifting panels and dialogue directly from the books. The results were widely praised, though it took about ten years to get a sequel and a planned television series has still yet to materialise.

The Review:
Frank Miller’s Sin City is one of the most faithful big screen adaptations of a comic book property ever made, not just because the writer and artist of the acclaimed series was directly involved in the directing and production of the film, but because the movie rips its visuals directly from Miller’s books. The stories are direct adaptations of the Sin City comics, with the shortest – “The Customer is Always Right” – serving as a bookend for the theatrical version. The first part of this segment part was produced by co-director Robert Rodriguez as a proof-of-concept to gain Miller’s blessing for the project. The short sees a mysterious and attractive hitman known only as the “Salesman” (Josh Hartnett) approach a gorgeous young woman (Marley Shelton) at a party. He’s captivated by her looks and her scent and immediately professes his love for her, giving her affection and comfort right before fulfilling his contract and murdering her. The Salesman then pops up in the theatrical film’s coda, approaching misguided prostitute Becky (Alexis Bledel), presumably to execute her after the events of “The Big Fat Kill”. This is just one instance of Sin City’s interconnectivity. All the stories overlap, with characters appearing in the background in one story before taking the lead in another. Basin City is one of the most corrupted, violent, and seediest places in all of comicdom. It seems 90% of the police force are on the take and there’s little that conniving, controlling Senator Ethan Roark (played with delicious relish by the late, great Powers Booth) doesn’t own or control. This is an overlapping theme throughout the film, with Roark directly impacting the lives of Detective John Hartigan (Bruce Willis) and Marv (Mickey Rourke), and “The Big Fat Kill” exploring how ineffectual the police are in “Old Town”, where a shaky truce with the resident prostitutes – led by Gail (Rosario Dawson) – keeps the cops out. As this is essentially an anthology film, I’ll delve into each story separately before discussing some overarching themes and such.

“That Yellow Bastard” is one of two segments I find the most enjoyable in this film. The story follows Hartigan, a thirty-year veteran who’s spent his entire career doing things “by the book”. Whereas his partner, Bob (Michael Madsen), reluctantly turns a blind eye to Roark’s corruption, Hartigan refuses, especially with his retirement literally hours away when we first meet him. Hartigan’s one loose end is Roark’s son, Ethan Roark Jr. (Nick Stahl), a sick little paedophile who likes to toy with, rape, and mutilate young girls. Rather than simply walking away, Hartigan defies his partner and the Roarks by pursuing Junior to a warehouse, arriving just in time to save young Nancy Callahan (Makenzie Vega) all while battling angina. Determined to “go out with a bang”, Hartigan’s crusade sees him literally and figuratively disarm Junior. leaving him a mangled and comatose wreck. Unfortunately, that’s not how justice works in Sin City and Hartigan’s betrayed by Bob, arrested, and framed for Junior’s crimes. As Roark puts it, Hartigan learns the true meaning of power as witnesses and evidence are all bought or tampered with to paint Hartigan as a bent cop with a taste for kids. His reputation and marriage are left as tattered as his body, which Roark pays to restore so he can get off on seeing Hartigan disgraced and stuck in solitary confinement. Hartigan accepts this, unwilling to endanger young Nancy, who remains indebted and besotted with him. Due to his stubborn refusal to speak up, Hartigan spends eight years alone in prison, with only letters from Nancy (using a pseudonym) to keep him going. He comes to see Nancy as a dear friend and daughter (though it’s clear his feelings run deeper and he’s just in denial) and thus falls into despair when the letters suddenly stop, a nineteen-year-old girl’s severed finger arrives in his cell, and a strange, disgusting, yellow-colouring imp attacks him.

Fearing for Nancy’s life, Hartigan begrudgingly swallows his pride and confesses, which is enough to have him released due to “time served”. Rather than dwell on his losses, Hartigan returns to his mission to keep Nancy safe, only to find she’s grown into Jessica fuckin’ Alba and works at a strip bar! Blinded by his love for Nancy and his obsession with saving her, Hartigan realises all-too late that he’s been tricked and is soon struggled with his lust for Nancy and keeping her safe from the titular “Yellow Bastard”, an unnerving lunatic who really pops thanks to his yellow complexion. It turns Junior was radically altered by experimental surgery as Roark was desperate for a grandchild. While it scuppered Junior’s Presidential prospects, he continued to abuse, rape, and torture children while Hartigan rotted in his cell, and is determined to avenge himself on Hartigan and Nancy. I was surprised by how good Nick Stahl is here, especially once he’s under all the prosthetics and make-up. Junior’s a pathetic little man at the best of times, a spoiled rich boy brat who enjoys the immunity offered him by his father’s power and is so pathetic that he can’t get it up unless his victims scream. Hartigan knows this secret and tells it to Nancy, who frustrates Junior with her defiance and proves that she grew up strong after all. Similarly, Bruce Willis was the perfect choice for grizzled veteran cop Hartigan, despite Bruce obviously not matching Miller’s hulking, exaggerating artwork and the somewhat controversial nature of his relationship with the much-younger Nancy. Hartigan tries to resist her, but he can’t deny that he’s also in love with her and it’s only due to Junior’s interference that we’re spared a love scene between them. It’s a little disturbing, for sure, though it’s explicitly said and shown that Hartigan doesn’t think of Nancy in that way until she’s nineteen, at least. Plus, like…it is Jessica Alba so it’s understandable he’d have the hots for her.

Hartigan is much more durable than the average man, basically telling his heart attack to sit the fuck down, surviving multiple gun shots and beatings, and besting most foes with a single punch. Hartigan’s aware of his limitations and regularly chastises himself for being reckless, allowing him to keep his cool even during a high-speed chase with Junior firing at him. Hartigan never wastes his time or his bullets, firing accurately and blasting off limbs and sending yellow blood spraying. He also proves driven and strong enough to pound the Yellow Bastard’s head into bloody mush by the end, showing he’s not your average cynical old man. There’s a tragedy to Hartigan that I’ve always felt palpable. Of all the characters and narrators of Sin City, I gravitate to him the most as he’s cynical, self-deprecating, and honest in a way that makes him extremely relatable. He’s clearly proud of his work and sees his retirement as bittersweet. It means leaving behind the violence and corruption, but also means he can’t help people, something he feels so strongly about that he happily takes the fall to protect Nancy, enduring beatings, slander, and solitude all to keep her safe. Hartigan knows that Roark is beyond the law. Roark even demonstrates that when he visits the hospital and boasts about how he could simply shoot Hartigan without repercussion. Hartigan consoles himself with the small victory that killing Junior ends Roark’s bloodline, which he frames as an absolute win to reassure Nancy. Hartigan sends her away, promising to follow her after clearing his name and bringing down Roark. Maybe that’s something John McClane might do, but not John Hartigan. Instead, he lies to Nancy to give her hope and keep her safe, then does the only thing he can do to ensure her safety by killing himself. It’s a startling ending, especially consider Bruce’s action credentials, but really sums up Hartigan’s commitment to shouldering the burden for others.

My second favourite segment, “The Hard Goodbye” represented Mickey Rourke’s big Hollywood comeback and casts the former heartthrob as the brutish and disfigured Marv, a well-meaning but borderline psychotic bruiser who suffers from an unspecified medical condition that often leaves him confused, paranoid, and imagining things. Since he’s so badly disfigured, Marv is overjoyed when voluptuous prostitute Goldie (Jaime King) hooks up with him, throwing herself at him and giving him the affection and tenderness he’s craved his whole miserable life. Marv’s joy is short-lived, however, as he wakes to find Goldie dead and heavily-army cops ready to pounce. Thanks to his unexplained superhuman strength and durability, Marv easily brutalises the cops and escapes, patching up his minor wounds and beginning a vendetta to figure out who killed the only woman he’s ever loved (besides his doting, blind mother (Lucina Paquet)). Determined to kill his way to the truth, but still conscious of his medical condition, Marv goes to his parole officer, Lucille (Carla Gugino), for a fresh batch of pills and some insight into Goldie. While Lucille tries to warn Marv off his killing spree, not wanting to see him locked up for the rest of his life, Marv relishes a return to the “all-or-nothin’ days” of old, employing what little intelligence he has in weeding out small time thugs and torturing them in creative ways for leads, before killing them. Marv’s methods might be brutal, but they’re incredibly efficient and lead him to a crooked priest (Frank Miller), who reveals that Roark’s brother, Cardinal Patrick Henry Roark (Rutger Hauer), was behind Goldie’s murder. This throws Marv and sees him questioning reality as even he is shocked at the idea that someone so powerful he could’ve become the Pope or the President would go to the trouble of framing a meathead like him for a hooker’s murder.

Still, Marv investigates the Roark family farm on the outskirts of town and finds a creepy, silent man-child living there. Silent, agile, and deadly, Kevin (Elijah Wood) easily bests the unsuspecting Marv and he wakes to find Lucille missing an arm and to learn that Kevin killed and ate Goldie’s fellow hookers. Kevin also chopped off and ate Lucille’s arm and forced her to watch, briefly shattering her hard-ass demeanour before she composes herself. Though grateful to Marv for saving her, Lucille turns him in when the cops arrive and gets gunned down for her troubles, compelling Marv to go on hatchet-wielding killing spree. Marv’s confusion only doubles when he’s attacked by what he assumes to be a hallucination of Goldie, but which turns out to be her twin sister, Wendy (Jaime King). Bewildered, overwhelmed, and exhausted, Marv is easily subdued by Wendy and taken to Gail and their fellow prostitutes in Old Town. While Wendy initially blames Marv for her sister’s death and plans to beat and kill him, they quickly realise that it’s all a setup and Wendy confirms Cardinal Roark’s involvement since Goldie “worked the clergy”. Wendy helps Marv gather supplies to return to the farm, though he only tolerates her help for so long. He refuses to let her finish Kevin off and cold clocks her to keep her from seeing what he does to Kevin since he doesn’t want to scar her for life. Thanks to his amazing durability, Marv weathers Kevin’s swift attack and talon-like nails and handcuffs him, dropping him with a single punch and using a hacksaw to saw off his arms and legs. Still, while Marv delights in watching Kevin’s dog feed upon him and hacking off the psycho’s head, he’s left unfulfilled since Kevin refuses to scream, or make any sound at all, through the whole ordeal.

Luckily for Marv, Cardinal Roark is a much more willing participant. Cardinal Roark is horrified when Marv brings him Kevin’s severed head and reveals that he not only encouraged Kevin’s cannibalism, but joined in, targeting “whores” since no one would miss them and feeling the touch of God almighty upon consuming human meat. Unimpressed and disgusted, Marv brutalises Cardinal Roark with his bare hands, giving him the “hard goodbye” he promised Goldie on her death bed. Unfortunately, Marv is subdued by the cops shortly after and spends months in hospital recovering from his wounds, initially convinced Roark’s men will come to finish the job before realising they plan to besmirch him, too. Though he refuses to co-operate, he’s coerced into taking the fall for Kevin and Cardinal Roark’s crimes and is branded a “psycho killer”. Regardless, Marv is largely nonplussed at his impending execution, believing the world would be a better place without him in it, and is eager to get it all over with. Out of gratitude for his actions and sacrifice, Wendy visits him one last time and allows Marv to have her, thinking of her as Goldie. Ever the stubborn meathead, Marv forgoes the obligatory Bible verses and hastens his execution, amusingly shrugging off the first round of electricity before finally breathing his last, consoling himself with memories of Goldie. Rourke shines as Marv, a simple-minded brute with a clear-cut code of honour who feels no remorse at roughing up or killing anyone who’s wronged him or his friends, especially dames. Marv is a very tragic figure, one constantly on the brink of a psychotic breakdown, who’s determined to bring down “gods” like Cardinal Roark even if it means his death. I loved the running gag of him acquiring new coats and offing his victims in increasingly bonkers ways, and how vicious his mean streak was.

Finally, there’s “The Big Fat Kill”, which is enjoyable but probably the weakest segment for me, mainly because it has far more “Millerisms” than the other stories (that is, repetitive, childish, and stupid dialogue). This story explores Old Town in more detail, depicting it as Sin City’s seedy red-light district where the ladies are the law. The cops don’t patrol there and, in return, they get sent home alive if they accidentally cross the border and get to unwind with the girls when off duty. The women are therefore free to police themselves, dishing out brutal and efficient vigilante justice whenever their clients get too full of themselves, with Gail leading the charge and silent, deadly little Miho (Devon Aoki) slicing guys up with her katana. The story follows Dwight McCarthy (Clive Owen), a mysterious and grizzled man with a “new face” who’s back in town and hooking up with Shellie (Brittany Murphy), a rambunctious waitress. When Shellie’s accosted by her drunken, obsessively aggressive ex, Jack Rafferty (Benicio del Toro), Dwight stands up for her without hesitation, shrugging off her protests and determined to teach “Jackie Boy” a lesson about respecting women. Concerned for the ladies of Old Town, Dwight pursues Jack and his drunken friends to the red-light district, where they attract Gail’s wrath after accosting Becky. Gail, angry at Dwight for ditching her in the past, immediately takes charge and orders Jack’s death, refusing to listen to Dwight’s sudden feeling that something’s off. Sure enough, Dwight discovers a bombshell on Jackie Boy’s corpse: he was Lieutenant “Iron Jack” Rafferty, a “goddamn hero cop”, and his death would mean an end to the shaky truce and a return to all-out war in Old Town. Thanks to her ill-will towards Dwight, Gail’s reluctant to go along with his plan to ditch Jackie Boy’s corpse in the tar pit across town but he convinces her with his conviction, passion, and quick hands, determined to safeguard the women and avoid any bloodshed.

Still, the experience rattles Dwight and sees him hallucinating conversations with Jackie Boy’s mangled corpse. Dwight’s right to be on edge as some previous actions mean he’s one fingerprint away from execution and he’s risking a lot to protect his friends, but he follows through since he can’t help but protect those he cares about. Unfortunately, Dwight’s plan hits a snag when the car the ladies give him conks out and he’s attacked by Irish mercenaries led by Brian (Tommy Flanagan). Despite Brian’s penchant for grenades being largely ineffective (it’s seriously laughable how characters shrug off explosions even when they’re right at their feet!), Dwight ends up in the tar and Brian escapes with Jack’s severed head. Luckily, Miho rescues Dwight and they retrieve the head, then concoct a desperate plan to trade it for Gail, who’s held hostage by eloquent and imposing man-mountain Manute (Michael Clarke Duncan). Sporting a golden eye and holding a grudge against prostitutes, Manute certainly cuts an intimidating figure, with his slightest touch causing Gail agony. He works for unseen mob boss Wallenquist, who’s keen to expedite the war between Old Town and the cops so he can regain control of the red-light district. Manute, much like Junior, is joined by an eclectic bunch of underlings, from loquacious minions to Neo-Nazis, who add a splash of (metaphorical) colour to Sin City’s underworld. Manute also seems to have a grudge against Dwight, though it’s not expanded upon in this story. In fact, pretty much nothing is known of Dwight’s past life; you’d have to read A Dame to Kill For (Miller, 1993 to 1994) or watch the sequel to find out more about that.

Anyway, Dwight’s plan echoes a famous strategy employed by the Spartans and depicted (in Miller’s typical exaggerated fashion) in 300 (ibid, 1998). He forces Manute and his goons into a dark, narrow alleyway where their numbers are less effective and demands a simple trade: Jack’s severed head for Gail. Despite Becky questioning why Jackie Boy’s head has tape around its mouth, Manute agrees and Gail initially despairs of Dwight, before he reveals he stuffed one of Brian’s grenades into Jackie Boy’s head. The explosion scars Manute and takes out some of his minions before Miho and the other ladies emerge from the rooftops and join Dwight and Gail in slaughtering “every last rat-bastard one of them” to send a message to Wallenquist. The act sees Dwight and Gail rediscover their passion for each other, though they each lament that they’re seemingly doomed to never truly be together. It’s not that I don’t like “The Big fat Kill”, but I do find it the weakest segment in Sin City. Clive Owen is great as the gritty, gruff Dwight, a man trying to keep his head down and move on from his mysterious past and yet caught up in a potential war because he can’t help but defend women. He’s depicted as being a bit unpredictable and unstable, talking to himself (while hallucinating talking to Jackie Boy’s corpse) and happily ready to engage with multiple foes at once. He has a bloodlust and a sexual passion he’s quick to indulge, despite trying to deny both, and a deep-rooted respect for the ladies of Old Town. He knows how dangerous Miho is, for example, and doesn’t want to step on their toes, but he’ll slap Gail and make demands if it means avoiding a war. Dwight’s comically as invulnerable as Hartigan and Marv, despite being much smaller, and equally determined to achieve his goals. I really liked Benicio del Toro’s slurring, madcap performance as the erratic Jackie Boy, a guy so obviously off his rocker that it’s laughable that he’s what Sin City designates a “hero cop”.

I actually studied Sin City years ago at university as an example of fidelity in film adaptations. The film remains one of the best examples of a one-to-one adaptation of a text largely because the production literally used Frank Miller’s comic books as the storyboards. However, this is a bit of a double-edged sword for me as I’m not a huge fan of Frank Miller’s writing or his art. There are obvious exceptions. I enjoyed his work on Daredevil, for example; Batman: Year One (Miller, et al, 1987) is still the definitive Bruce Wayne/Batman origin story for me; and I do like the Sin City comics I’ve read. However, his art is often quite ungainly and ugly and his writing, and especially his dialogue, can be atrocious. I often cite his work on a Batman/Spawn crossover, where his “Millerisms” depicted Batman as a mardy youth and completely ruined Todd McFarlane’s gorgeous art. However, Sin City is an exception. This is Miller’s world, his toy box, and this is really where he shines, with his own original characters and narratives, all rendered in a startling noir colour palette that heavily emphasises shadows and silhouettes. The movie captures that aesthetic perfectly, using colour (mainly blue, red, and yellow) sparingly as a contrast to the noir presentation. I really like the stylistic way the film is shot, the use of black-and-white and shadows, and the way the few examples of colour pop, and how gritty and dirty and moody everything is. There are times when it’s obvious the film is being shot on a green screen set, but it perfectly fits Miller’s hyper-stylised world. Sin City is a drab, depressing, and dangerous town where it’s almost constantly raining, gangs and perverts roam, and the corrupt control everything. This is a world where we’re forced to rely on anti-heroes or where straight arrows like Hartigan are disgraced for daring to oppose Senator Roark’s rule, and where surviving the day is seen as a happy ending.  

This Recut & Extended version of the film is technically the best way to watch it as it adds in a few extra scenes, primarily to “That Yellow Bastard”, but oddly presents each segment like a mini movie, with its own opening titles and closing credits, which is a bit annoying when trying to watch it as one movie. Similarly, while the additions to “That Yellow Bastard” are scenes from the comics, I can understand why they were cut as they’re pretty redundant. For example, Roark comes into the hospital to gloat over Hartigan’s bed-ridden form and tells us everything we need to know without Eileen Hartigan (Babs George) and other visitors repeating the same information. These visitors also come to Hartigan before Roark in the film, rather than after Roark as in the comics, which doesn’t make much sense narratively. I did like the inclusion of Lucille to further tie the segment into “The Hard Goodbye”. Her scenes also add a bit of extra context as to why Hartigan is released after he confesses. Without them, it views like this perverted old man finally confessed to being a child rapist and murderer and was let out because of “time served”. “The Hard Goodbye” adds a scene where Marv sneaks into his mother’s home to retrieve his beloved pistol, Gladys, restoring a heartwarming interaction between the two that shows that Marv actively hides his violent nature from his mother. Otherwise, there’s not much else added to the film as Rodriguez and Miller were extremely faithful to the source material the first go around. I prefer the extended version of “That Yellow bastard”, though, as it means more Bruce Willis, but it does annoy me that there’s no option to watch it as a continuous film without skipping past the end credits each time.

Final Thoughts:
I’ve always enjoyed Frank Miller’s Sin City. I’d never read the comics when I first saw the trailers or when I went to see it upon release, but I was captivated by the black-and-white visuals and stylistic presentation. I really enjoy how the film brings Miller’s neo-noir world to life using green screens and sparse sets. It all feels very gritty and almost like a stage play at times and makes me nostalgic for the noir thrillers of old. Despite the actors having to growl out Miller’s often painful dialogue and often acting against stand-ins or thin air, the performances were captivating throughout. Bruce Willis and Mickey Rourke especially shined in their roles, with Willis perfectly capturing Hartigan’s grizzled nature and Rourke channelling a great deal of emotion into the brutish Marv. Clive Owen was equally impressive as Dwight, though I still find “The Big Fat Kill” the weakest segment because of Miller’s writing and some of the deliveries. Still, the visual appeal of Sin City cannot be denied, the stark use of shadows, blacks and whites, the sparing use of colour, and the exaggerated violence all pop off the screen. It really is like the comic book panels have come to life and it amazes me that more movies didn’t opt for this aesthetic for other pulp characters (or even Batman and the Crow). I enjoyed the film so much that I sought out The Hard Goodbye and That Yellow Bastard to read and I eagerly anticipated the follow-up, and I would’ve loved to see an ongoing television series adapting more of Miller’s Sin City stories as it’s such a vivid and intriguing cesspool of corruption and violence.

My Rating:

Great Stuff

Did you enjoy Frank Miller’s Sin City? Which segment was your favourite? Were there other Sin City stories you would’ve liked to see in the film? Did you enjoy the hyper-stylised presentation? Do you think Hartigan made the right decision sacrificing himself? Were you interested to learn more about Dwight? Why do you think Marv was so unstoppable? Whatever your thoughts on Sin City, drop a comment below, support me on Ko-Fi if you’d like me to cover more of this world.