Get ready for not only the best comic book adaptation of all-time (sorry CATWOMAN!), but also what is going to be the best film of the year.

An incredible statement, sure, but dammit — SIN CITY is an incredible film. In three days, I’ve seen it four times just to take it all in. Even after four screenings, I still can’t believe what I have witnessed.

SIN CITY, based on legendary comics master Frank Miller’s gritty graphic novel series of the same name, is a hard-boiled love letter to extreme ultra-violence, graphic bloodletting and the beautiful art of stylized misanthropy. It’s Mickey Spillaine on crystal meth.

The three graphic novels adapted here—SIN CITY, THE BIG FAT KILL and THAT YELLOW ***censored*** — are true to form, appearing on screen exactly as they did in the books, utilizing a harshly gorgeous black and white with the occasional splash of crimson (or diseased yellow) blood spraying across.

The story opens with Hartigan (Bruce Willis), a good cop with a bad “ticker”, rescuing a little girl from a child rapist (Nick Stahl)—who also happens to be the son of a corrupt senator—shooting him in the dick, among other places. For his troubles, Hartigan is shot by his partner twenty or so times in the back.

Flash forward to the disfigured Marv (Mickey Rourke)—the type of guy you really don’t want to meet in a back alley—waking up next to a dead hooker who he’s also in love with. Framed, seeking revenge, and feverishly looking for the killer, Marv plows through Sin City’s criminals, dragging their faces across pavement in a high-speed car while popping pills and laughing maniacally. It all leads him to Elijah Wood as a character that will scare the ***censored*** out of you.
Next up, Dwight (Clive Owen) and his loyal army of ninja assassin prostitutes slice and dice corrupt cop Jackie Boy (Benicio Del Toro) and an Irish gang of paramilitary thugs, disemboweling, beheading and blowing up everything in sight.
In the final story, we return to Hartigan, now in prison, framed as the child rapist murderer he tried to stop. Released after signing a false confession, he now has to track down the girl he saved, Nancy (Jessica Alba), now a stripper being hunted down by the aforementioned child rapist Hartigan shot—now a diseased, troll-like and bright yellow monster—AKA The Yellow ***censored***.

It all leads up to a bittersweet but fitting finale that’s a brutal as it is beautiful.

The acting is impeccable: Bruce Willis is, as always, subtly brilliant and Nick Stahl and Elijah Wood are some truly haunting evil creatures. Clive Owen is a likable rogue (totally redeeming himself after CLOSER) and Benicio Del Toro is scummy perfection. Rosario Dawson is now officially the hottest woman of all time, while SPY KIDS’ mom Carla Gugino plays most of her role blissfully and thankfully naked.

But it’s all about Mickey Rourke as Marv. This is his show. You believe Marv is a real character and not an actor—he’s not just a great KNB make-up job. Rourke becomes Marv, totally investing in the character with such a demonic glee that you can’t help but want to be on his side. Mickey Rourke, after years of toiling in straight-to-video semi-obscurity make a comeback that even outdoes Travolta’s in PULP FICTION. He’s truly a revelation. If Rourke isn’t nominated for a best actor Oscar, I’ll personally torch Hollywood and I’ve got plenty of matches.

And then we have THE man: Robert Rodriguez, the best filmmaker working today, hands down. His ballistic style and eye for gut-spilling action, seen in classics like DESPERADO and FROM DUSK TIL DAWN are in full tilt here, creating the most visceral eye-candy ever captured on film. Co-directing with creator Frank Miller, Rodriguez has firmly cemented himself as this generation’s Peckinpah and Scorsese.

Say ten Hail Mary’s then commit this Sin.