In 2005, “Sin City” was refreshing. In the public consciousness, comic book films were all cheesy superhero fare, something that hasn’t changed much since then. That “Sin City” dealt with more “mature” themes, starred well-regarded veteran actors and was filmed to emulate the look of the comic book made it fascinating at the time.

I haven’t seen it since I was a teenager, and I’m starting to wonder if everything I just wrote is a lie.

“Sin City: A Dame to Kill For” is so immature and vile that I can’t imagine its predecessor being much better. I went in with no expectations, good or bad, and was revolted by what I saw.

Like the first film, “A Dame to Kill For” is a series of loosely connected storylines set in the nasty underground of Sin City, with its dark alleyways and sleazy strip clubs rendered in the same green screen, black and white style as before.

Some of the cast returns, such as Mickey Rourke (and his goofy face makeup), Jessica Alba and Powers Boothe, while newcomer Josh Brolin fills the role played by Clive Owen in the original film.

Put simply, this movie is a little less than two hours of the male leads whispering incredibly pretentious internal monologues with no actual substance, punctuated by random bits of violence. The whole thing feels like co-director and comic writer Frank Miller watched film noir at age 14 and decided it needed less nuance and more entirely unnecessary narration.

The undertones of male adolescence extend to the treatment of women in the film. By my unofficial count, there are between six and eight striptease scenes, while there are two or three fleshed out female characters.

Alba has a few of those scenes herself before she utters a single line of dialogue.

Eva Green’s character (the titular dame to kill for) is also presented as villainous for her promiscuity, which she uses to deceive men into killing each other or themselves. Almost every woman in “A Dame to Kill For” is either a damsel in distress or a succubus, which makes me question whether this movie was actually written by adults. I felt embarrassed after seeing it.

Having said all of that, Green’s performance is probably the best in the film, which was also true of the “300” sequel, a similarly daft and unnecessary movie.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is decent enough, but the whispery narration of Rourke and Brolin doesn’t convince me that either of them cared about this movie at all. Bruce Willis even showed up for what must have been a day’s work to hilariously phone in about five lines.

“Sin City: A Dame to Kill For” is what would happen if you took the essence of a college guy’s dorm room with “Fight Club” and “The Boondock Saints” posters and turned it into a movie. It takes itself deadly seriously with faux-philosophical dialogue but does so without an ounce of craft. At no point did I feel like it justified its existence.