I watch them watch me watch them too across the street across the room

Each Day, A Film:
January 8th 2012

Today has to be a bit of a cheat, I'm afraid, because yesterday was consumed with (a) scriptwriting and (b) Dungeon Defenders, thanks to a close friend having convinced me into taking on insanely hard challenges therein - so instead of having the time to watch a film, you're going to have to rely on my memory. Lucky you.



One thing I always find an interesting litmus test of a film is the quality of the trailers available - and posted - on Youtube. Sure, I could track them down to the original website, or Apple, but your average Youtube person can be fairly dedicated when it comes to this sort of thing, and also when it comes to slightly strange video uploads; five videos below the above in the listings was one simply titiled Marv Tortures GOOD QUALITY. I like to think that you can't torture quality, but I've seen films that would challenge that assertion.

But Sin City is, quite frankly, an extremely strange beast, because for starters, who needs locations or sets?



Robert Rodriguez is someone we're going to return to - god willing and if the creek don't rise - a few times over the course of this year. He - unknowingly, of course - formed a central part of the why of how I decided to become a filmmaker. But Sin City represents an interesting proposition, because - if you like - it's a comic book movie made using the comic book as a storyboard, for massive damage amazing faithfulness, that isn't exactly, well... comic?

There's a debate about the whole comic books / graphic novels divide, as if renaming something fundamentally changes content and perception - when, as we all know, the medium is the message. Well, we don't all know - I don't know it, I just happen to believe it - and making such a faithful transition from the original material to film is all kinds of interesting, to me, at least. Not least because maybe Frank Miller has some issues with tactful and tasteful representations of sex workers, or, less charitably, women in general.

(Although, as someone points out in the comments thread for the above site, "Now, let's be fair - not all of Frank Miller's female characters are whores. Some are are strippers.")

The film - questionable overtones regarding feminism aside, which can be countered with a "it's neo-noir" argument, although Kiss Kiss Bang Bang tends to shoot that down - is unquestionably beautiful, well-done and stylised. The dialogue is for the majority also beautifully stylised, but every now and then, well...

DWIGHT: The Valkyrie at my side is shouting and laughing with the pure, hateful, bloodthirsty joy of the slaughter... and so am I.

Works in print, maybe less so when Clive Owen's saying it. Then again, there's a whole subdiscussion to be had about Clive Owen, because he can make the most portentous lines sound lackadaisical and invest the smallest lines with the most amazing amount of emotion - which will be revisited, I would think, with posts to come about The Bourne Identity and Shoot-Em-Up.

I have another reason for having both a lot of love for Sin City and for having a fair amount of it committed to memory; on assignment, I've been involved in recreating a scene from it:



Curiously, looking back, that was the last assignment that went 100% well before things started getting a little... loopy, perhaps, is a good word for it. Because after this comes music videos and longer recreations of The Departed, and the kind of burnout that faithful readers - i.e. you, Oliver and Stan - will recognise lead to month after month after month of complaining.

Which is the reason behind the rebranding exercise, which in turn is the reason I'm writing about Sin City. Recursive, non?

Anyway, I don't have anything particularly deep or insightful to say about the film, but if it helps, I really, really recommend watching it.

Tomorrow, however, I'll do you - yes, you - the courtesy of actually making time to watch the film for discussion. Now, isn't that something to look forward to?