“Sin City: A Dame to Kill For” is a sequel made by popular demand. The results are generally underwhelming despite the fact that it’s everything one should expect. In 2004, when Robert Rodriguez brought Frank Miller’s famous graphic novel series to the big screen – with Miller’s input as co-director – several things were notably accomplished:
Rodriguez continued his legacy as a maverick filmmaker working with a limited amount of money while utilizing new digital movie-making tools to great effect. While “Batman Begins” was a couple months away from showing everyone the most realistic take on a comic book, “Sin City” followed in the footsteps of 1990’s “Dick Tracy,” creating the ultimate surrealistic movie based on a comic book. Above all, we were reminded that black and white is just plain beautiful.
The last movie took three of Miller’s books and created an anthology movie, like “Heavy Metal.” All the books take place in the same universe, and the stories often intersect. This time around, according to the title, the movie was fully committed to only one of these books; a fan-favorite, “A Dame to Kill For.”
For those unfamiliar, Frank Miller’s creation is a perverted dark fantasy inspired by film-noir, glorifying violence with heavy doses of misogyny. All this would be objectionable to me, if it weren’t so removed from reality. The stylized gun violence, bloodletting and aggressive sex is cartoonish to the point of laugh-inspiring juvenile eye-candy. I enjoy it-especially with some beer and greasy food. Rodriguez doesn’t make sincere cinema, he makes fun trash which walks the line between sensational escapism and parody.
“A Dame to Kill For” follows a prowling private detective named Dwight McCarthy, played in this film by Josh Brolin, who gets pulled into the schemes of a seductive femme fatale, played by Eva Green. A great amount of the film features this beautiful actress nude in some of the most creatively lit shots -especially the ones involving the emergence of a body from water in very high-contrast black and white.
This story seems as polished as the previous film’s three stories, and yet it lacks the same punch. Regarding sequel continuity, this one is weakened by some unfortunate recasting. Dennis Haysbert replaces the late Michael Clark Duncan competently -but man, do I miss Duncan. What really hurts this sequel is the lack of Clive Owen, whose face was a pretty essential role to tie the movies together.
The ultimate weakness of the new movie is a newly created story that acts as an irrelevant arc. It begins interestingly with Joseph Gordon Levitt as a young reckless gambler with a miscalculated plan. Unfortunately, this story is preoccupied with the terrible continuation of Jessica Alba’s Nancy, a stripper hell-bent on revenge.
Overall, I can say that I enjoyed this encore, but not enough to give it a big recommendation. After a near decade since its predecessor, it has little to offer that feels fresh.
If you’re at all interested in another very dark tale, minus the sensationalism, there is John Michael McDonough’s, “Calvary.” This is a dialogue-driven story about a week in the life of a small-town Irish priest, played excellently by Brendan Gleeson, who has received a threat on his life in the confession booth from an unseen man who wishes to punish the Catholic Church for a childhood of constant sexual abuse by a now-deceased clergyman.
The rest of the film involves the priest possibly accepting the fate of murder as he continues his troubled relationship with a community who regularly show him apathy and disrespect. He’s patient and tolerant. The existence of his grown daughter (Kelly Reilly) is proof that he knows the trials and tribulations of adult life outside his now anointed status. Like Christ suffering the sins of the world, he’s essentially a good priest suffering the sins of the priesthood.
There is a dark-comedy undercurrent to the film. His associate priest (David Wilmot) is an ignorant nitwit. His daughter has come to stay with him after a suicide attempt. The town Butcher’s (Chris O’Dowd) battered wife (Orla O’Rourke) is having an affair with the mechanic (Isaach De Bankolé) and a few other local men. There’s also a drunken millionaire (Dylan Moran), a rude bartender (Pat Shortt) and a sadistic doctor (Aidan Gillen) and many other troubled souls. These people regularly engage the priest, provoking him to impart genuinely experienced sound wisdom, only to disregard it or throw it in his face.
His daughter grudgingly gives him a rough time, but is ultimately a loving person. He also occasionally delivers goods to a reclusive aging American writer (M. Emmett Walsh) who enjoys the priest’s company but challenges him with the request of a gun should he need to take himself out one day. The only moment of real solace in the film is when he comforts a widow, played by the beautiful Marie-Josée Croze, who, dealing with the reality of love and mortality, seems to be on the same page as this troubled man.
This is in no way a feel-good movie, but is thought-provoking beyond my words and likely to stir up discussion among religious and non-religious people alike. It’s a bitter film, but much more poetic than anything Frank Miller will ever write.
Bennett Duckworth is a film fanatic who lives in Louisville and goes to see a movie in the theater at least once a week. He has kept a movie review blog since September of 2011 with the mission of writing about every new release he sees, as well as new trends in filmmaking and classic films he loves. You can read more of his reviews at www.bennettduckworth.blogspot.com.