“Robert Rodriguez’s Sin City was a heartless, lifeless, soulless exercise in green-screen indulgence disguised as a film … and further proof that comic books should never be made into movies.”

You know, the “green-screen indulgence” isn’t what I had a problem with. In fact, I think Sin City‘s visual aesthetic – verily ripped from the pages of Frank Miller‘s source comic – is the only reason to see the film, which is why I’m so excited to see Miller’s The Spirit come December. But to be honest – and yes, I know this is enough to get me slapped with a scarlet something in this town – I turned off Sin City after about half an hour. It looked amazing, and it was a heck of a cast, and I think “soulless” is perhaps the wrong word to use on a film that was so obviously a labor of love for a lot of people. But I just couldn’t stomach what the über-gore and the endless eroticization of violence against women. Sure, I know, sometimes the ladies got to fight back…

So long as they were in a bustier.

This article appears in July 4 • 2008.

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A graduate of the Michener Center for Writers at the University of Texas, Kimberley has written about film, books, and pop culture for The Austin Chronicle since 2000. She was named Editor of the Chronicle in 2016; she previously served as the paper’s Managing Editor, Screens Editor, Books Editor, and proofreader. Her work has been awarded by the Association of Alternative Newsmedia for excellence in arts criticism, team reporting, and special section (Best of Austin). The Austin Alliance for Women...