Combining modern elements of the graphic novel and harshly honed extractions that accent a 21st Century brutality and sexuality disallowed by the “code” in the film noir era, “A Dame to Kill For” (a.k.a. Frank Miller’s “Sin City” sequel) accents stylish artistic backgrounds. The story wobbles from one vile hard-boiled thug to another. Concurrently, the empowered females have claimed their emancipation beyond subtle looks, movements or glaring lipstick.

Pulp crime drama director Robert Rodriguez co-directs with Miller. Crunched fingers, spilled blood and severed heads have a distant illusory quality in the gray backdrops. What should have reviled instead evokes an empathetic numbness as flying bullets fail to plug gaping storylines.

Ava Lord (Eva Green), an ultimate femme fatale, absorbs then smolders as the woman who found a way to escape making bucks on her back. Green’s so slippery spitting the Raymond Chandler (think 50s private eye) lines that her deceptiveness occasionally gives way (albeit briefly) for dumbfounded ingenue status that vanishes forever in a series of simmering splashes. Her nudes blend with the blackness, neither raunchy nor sensual.

A combination of the “A Dame to Kill For” and “Just Another Saturday Night” graphic novels, this film adds new elements, an example of which is lucky but pompous, out of his league poker player (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) , which proves a total helter skelter mismatch. Aesthetics and Mickey Rourke meld nicely. The rest is a mess of bloody breathing bodies and busted ribs in Rodriguez excessive trademark style.

Do have to grant a full thumbs up, though, to the overpowering women of Old Town, who seduce with brains and kicks.

Viewers might find this visit to the City of Sin a little rugged, hard to follow and torturous, unless already a big fan of the franchise, Miller or Rodriguez.

For some, “Sin City: A Dame to Kill For” might contain more melodramatic murkiness than one can coherently grapple. Winners or losers, every character is defiled. Kind of like a “Godfather” soap opera, where all cheaters, tough guys (and gals), and anyone else ends up on the wrong side of the gun … or fist … or car … or baseball bat …