Michael Stevens, who is he? Well he directed Sin, that great straight to video masterpiece, so misunderstood at the time but now regarded as a classic by everyone. Oh, and I'm a Dutchman! (I'm not by the way, that was irony but it is difficult to be ironic on the written page, as it requires a certain tone of voice). I have many faults, just ask my wife. One of them is a fascination for those movies that no one else has ever seen because they went straight to video. I always assume that I am going to unearth some unpolished diamond in the rough that I tell people about and everyone thanks me for enlightening them. The thing is there is usually a very good reason a movie never gets a cinema release, and to this day I have yet to find my diamond. Sin is most definitely NOT it.
Ving Rhames stars as Eddie, a retired Reno homicide cop paralysed in his left arm following an injury during his last arrest. He lives a simple life out in the desert troubled by the events of his last case, a cop killer Eddie arrested, who later hung himself in prison. When his sister goes missing he receives phone calls and videotapes from a mystery man (Gary Oldman) who taunts Eddie claiming he must pay for his sins. It is not long before the two are drawn into a desperate struggle and both men confront the demons of there own past while seeking retribution for the sins perpetrated upon them by the other.
Sin clearly has high aspirations. It tries to offer a tale of redemption, of good versus evil and right versus wrong with an allegorical thrust. There are also heavy overtones of the spaghetti westerns of Eastwood and Leone, with a side order of Michael Winner's Death Wish movies. All of these are fine aspirations, unfortunately that is just what they remain, aspirations. One or two minor things let the side down (he said ironically). Let's start with the script, which has plot holes you could fly a 747 through and dialogue so bad that the room full of monkeys and typewriters spending several lifetimes writing Shakespeare could knock this drivel up in their lunchtime. Rhames does a poor mans version of the man with no name, and Oldman phones in his psychotic nutter performance. The rest of the cast is so lame they are not even worthy of mention. Direction is uninspired, and that is being kind. This movie should crawl back under the stone from which it came, and stay there. The only sin in this movie is the fact that it saw the light of day at all.