"Sin City" opens with flair, style, pizzazz, that special elusive something. Painted across the screen in black and white, in cartoon, in live action, in a wonderful space between reality and comicbook. It truly is a graphic novel come alive.

Whatever scratches, faults or imperfections that befall the first half-hour, Mickey Rourke carries them on his broad shoulders. His character is ruggedly endearing (the thug with a heart). His realization on film in make-up, costume and cinematography is rich and brassy, bricks and mortar. And his acting tops. Magnificent. When he is on screen this is an "A" film.

Clive Owens also carries the hard-hitting baton with strength, but the cracks in the concrete production begin to widen. And though Bruce Willis gives a respectable performance, his character's predicament and constitution are somewhat redundant to Rourke's, this weakens his scenes. Worse, Willis' own plight repeats itself. What was probably meant as an artistic motif comes off as repetitive, weak, anti-climatic.

And though the idea of a group of "women of the night" having the power, strength, and ammunition to defend their own turf is conceptually interesting, it's realization here wanes, save for Miho (Devon Aoki). Brittany Murphy is an acting dynamo, but strains in this film. Jessica Alba dazzles.

If you're looking for a "Pulp Fiction," only the first third is worthy.

For those of you who fear a mean spirited violent picture, you should know that despite its title (and the graphic novel violence) this film has a tough, but warm heart. (It even choked me up once or twice.)

This film screened at a Laemmle Theatre.