Sunday, October 30th, 2005
I read Frank Miller’s Sin City recently and while I found the art and graphic quality of the works interesting, I was never really grabbed by the stories. I found the film adaptation just odd.
The writing and acting aspire to classic noir. The visuals aspire to Miller’s rhythmic, psychologically jagged and electric blackness. But Sin City the film is all posture and no drama, all look and bored actors. It captures the look but goes flat from first to last gun shot. It takes a special kind of writing and image-making to pull off The Maltese Falcon or The Big Sleep. There’s also a form problem here. While the filmic League of Extraordinary Gentlemen suffered from an authenticity crisis, Sin City never really finds a good reason for being a film.