Starring Josh Brolin, Eva Green, Jessica Alba, and Mickey Rourke. Rated 14A.

What’s black and white and red all over? Anything with Sin City in the title. Most of the blood spurting frequently here is in the white zone, keeping the graphics quite novel in this mostly arresting—if relentlessly brutal and ultimately superfluous—sequel, again directed and written by Robert Rodriguez and comic-book maven Frank Miller.

The new one features roughly six stories, interwoven, but sometimes only tangentially related to each other or the original movie. Things begin with Mickey Rourke’s returning Marv, literally building upon the actor’s grotesque plastic surgery and unleashing a torrent of hard-boiled one-liners, as in, “I awoke in midair, just in time to feel the pavement rushing up to give me a big, sloppy kiss.”

His confusion gives way to new tales of a slick young gambler (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) looking to take down evil senator Roark (Powers Boothe). The latter’s also in the crosshairs of Jessica Alba’s Nancy, alongside a ghostly Bruce Willis, her erstwhile protector. She’s seeking revenge, but still dancing for leering bar patrons in Old Town; why they tolerate such solidly clad strippers is anybody’s guess.

No one can accuse Eva Green of overdressing as archetypal femme fatale Ava Lord. Rodriguez wanted Angelina Jolie in the title role (A Dame For Whom to Die probably didn’t test well), but Green nakedly owns the part, which involves torturing men—especially private eye Dwight, played by Josh Brolin (instead of the original’s Clive Owen), getting the lion’s share of beatings here. Michael Clarke Duncan died before shooting began, so Dennis Haysbert plays her man-mountain chauffeur, a nice riff on Erich von Stroheim’s turn in Sunset Boulevard, right down to the “monocle” he picks up along the way.

Rosario Dawson returns among a bevy of dubiously “empowered” hit women. There’s some stunt casting, with Lady Gaga as a heavy-browed waitress; other characters are introduced and go nowhere fast. The gender roles of Sin City can be debated, but the real stars are the cars: Mustang, Corvette, Lincoln Continental, even a 1948 Tucker. They pull out of this mayhem looking a lot better than the people.