Sin City: A Dame to Kill For
I’d originally intended to frame this piece as an exploration of Miller’s, and later Rodriguez’s, hopped up, testosterone stained misappropriation of noir tropes.
Swiftly, however, I came to the realisation that would be affording this cheap, sleazy excursion into the murkier waters of juvenile masculinity far too high a regard.
Like the very distillation of Beavis and Butthead’s combined mid-life crises, our past-it co-directors smear their hackneyed perfume ad aesthetic all over Miller’s cast of rote, interchangeable hard boiled dicks (sic), Madonnas and whores.
Sin City 2’s leering camera gropes the game Eva Green, vamping her femme fatale Ava, to within an inch of credulity while Jessica Alba’s returning stripper-with-a-heart-of-gold Nancy fares little better. And a comically gimp suited Rosario Dawson, all cartoonish fetish and ultraviolence is a weird testament to our twin auteurs’ embarrassingly adolescent approach to violence and carnality.
Wasting an impressive cast, the Rodriguez sausage factory has groaned out a ham fisted, leaden, veneer obsessed facsimile of the original, which was itself an effects reel carbon of Miller’s hijacked chiaroscuros. Even those achievements, so mindblowing in 2005, reek of After Effects tutorials and cheap student films in the present day.
One despairs at the increasingly poisoned output of Miller and its influence on several generations of fanboys across a variety of media: this is arrested development material, all raw ugly tropes spiped in from febrile minds and disseminated to those incapable of parsing the tangled confusion of messages, aesthetics and authorial intent.
Originally published at www.hopscotchfriday.com.