Raise your expectations

Rating: 10/10 (1 April 2005)

Oh.
My.
F**king.
God.
It's the Frank Miller books. Amped. Without distortion of its honest spirit, of his stark visuals, or of the hard choices an even harder city imposes on its citizens.
Like any great film noir, appearances are deceiving, and part of the story. Despite having read the graphic novels, the story, the look, the performances, the score surprised me. From the opening to the end. Without a break. The art direction, the makeup, the cinematography, the performances, even the wardrobes were all of a seamless whole. And everything, all the elements, work together. Sin City is commitment like a knife in the eye: quick, sharp, deadly and you can't do anything about it even when you see it coming.
Sin City is visceral. It calls for thought too. Its social commentary is all tacit, where you don't notice it, fodder for meditations on the meaning of corruption, self-sufficiency, perversion, responsibility, friendship, love, torture, revenge, and defining yourself by your actions. Nothing a bullet won't cure.
I crawled out of the theater stunned, mumbling "OMFG." Fellow Sinners staggered into the lobby, shocked. I'm not going to the movies for a while. Sin City leaves them stale, pale, limp, and bland. Who knows when I'll get the metalic taste of blood out of my mouth.
OMFG.