The movie women should avoid at all costs: Sin City.

Maybe it's because I hate watching movies in class because it's such a distracting environment and hard to concentrate, or maybe Sin City really is as bad as I think it is? I hate to say this, as much as I love this teacher, but damn you, Michael Bolus, for clearly not considering what it is like to be a girl and sit through this catastrophe of a male-oriented film. I get it, the graphic novel is dirty and grimy and X-rated in every possible way, but that does not mean the film should be also. I don't think it should have been made into a film at all.

I could tell just from the opening credits that I was going to get a sarcasm headache from this "Shot and Cut by Robert Rodriguez" piece of digitized bullshit. So much voice over. So much stupid-smart dialogue. It was so damn noisy my ears were buzzing uncomfortably.

[Note that I'm judging the film, not the graphic novel, which I'm sure sits proudly on its shelf of gore glory.] It begins with Bruce Willis getting shot repeatedly in the shoulder and not dying, then getting shot even more in the torso and still not dying. Then some stuff happens. Women appear left and right, flaunting full-frontal boobage and buttocks just hanging out even though there is absolutely no reason for it. I couldn't even pay attention to what was being said. The dialogue itself was just too abstract, sentences were more like "what can I think of that is both strong yet poetic and not natural at all?" Did I mention the blood is both sometimes bright white and lipstick red? Sure, this is a style, but it bored the hell out of me. Oh, primary colors! How imaginative.

One of the major irks: how women are portrayed throughout the entire movie. They're all the same. Not one ugly female to be seen, and all sporting what look like sex shop attire on a rainy night. And what was really disturbing to me? There were horrible, unspeakable acts being done to them, and I felt not an ounce of sympathy. Great. Horrible story, look, and I don't give a shit about who's who. Awesome.

Another major irk: Jessica freaking Alba. I'm sorry, but the girl does not pull a single muscle acting during this emotionally stressful movie that should be reflected on the faces of the actors, but really? You're being whipped into submission by a green, horny, pedophile and not an ounce of fear on your face? Apparently she's cool, calm, and collected enough to turn around and spit out some fuck-you lines of dialogue.

Clearly Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Terintino did not spend an ounce of brain power considering how it was to be a female in the audience and walk out feeling disgusted and degraded and used. Somehow it sunk low in my gut, this hanging feeling, like I was a piece of meat. Oh yeah? This movie can go straight to hell with you, ya bastards.