Sin City
And if someone were to write within a specific genre, within a specific genre, such as a film noir, certain things are likely to occur within that context. Things such as reality being seen in black and white. Things such blood, which is always red, eyes, which are always green, hair, which is always blonde, and a curious creature called the Yellow Bastard.
Which occurs within the context of a work by director Robert Rodriguez, Frank Miller, and Quentin Tarantino, entitled "Sin City".
The context of which, incidentially, is not a comic book. Or a graphic novel. The context here is a mature comic book, barely a graphic novel, heavy on the hard-boiled and the steroids, tempered and tested with the extreme and explicit: There isn't so much a narrative to "Sin City" as there is visual style. A visual style so pronounced and defined it not only defines context herein but it is the context. It is a context of computer effects, grotesque make-up, lurid and obscene costumes, and choppy language that shreds the language of film noir itself. It is a context where actors do not play characters so much as they provide the archetypes for the essence of these characters: Bruce Willis, Mickey Rourke, Jessica Alba, Rosario Dawson, Benicio Del Toro, Clive Own and others far too numerous to list here.
Robert Rodriguez, as a director, has been working toward the realization of this film for years. Just as Sam Raimi worked toward "Spider-Man" for years. The difference between the two is apparent: Rodriguez has discared the narrative context in favor of the context of the moment: A great visual shot, a sudden close-up, a surprise that will make you jump and twitch accordingly and appropriately, and ironic reversals that will leave you stunned trying to comprehend them before another rushes forth to assail and embrace you.
There is more, that goes make Rodriguez a certain storyteller: He doesn't tell just one story. He isn't satisfied and content in that way. He has to tell several stories, some times independently of one another, some times dependent on each other. Here he does that with the inherent energy of Frank Miller's original works, and drives them with a minimalism unrelenting. If he attempted but one story for two hours or three hours or even an hour he would have lost control before the halfway mark. By doing what he did he retains this control
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