300

The Comic Book Reel reviews 300, which is released nationwide this Friday. 300 is an adaptation of Frank Miller's Graphic Novel of the same name, which is, in turn, a stylized, testosterone driven adaptation of the historical 300 Spartans, who fought and died to the man in order to defend Greece from the invading Persian hordes.

With Xerxes and his limitless armies standing on the porch, the front door to war literally kicked open, King Leonidas prepared to defend Greece. As the President of the United States must receive permission from Congress before waging war (heh...), so too did the King from ancient Sparta's democratic equivalents. And like the America of today, the political system of ancient Sparta operated only at the pleasure of a relatively small group of traditionalist mystics, all of whom were wholly corrupt, largely inbred, sexually deviant and disliked by essentially everybody. And perhaps also like the America of today, these false prophets sacrificed the health of their nation to the interests of a decadent Middle-Eastern monarch. They were called the Ephors, and they denied Leonidas permission to protect Sparta.

And so marched the 300, illegally.

Despite any ideas, history or metaphor tied to the film, it should be viewed primarily for its stunning visual creations:

"300," in any case, seems to actually synthesize the two [Comic book and film] mediums, creating a new language all for itself in order to make a film that stands completely on its own as one of the best war movies ever made.

The notion of "fight choreography" has been severely trivialized for me as a result of "300." No more can I be entertained by two, three or even dozens of men throwing hundreds of punches and kicks with hardly a one landing or, when one does, causing little to no consequences. No, "300" is not about "fight choreography." It's about killing the hell out of people. The force, might and skill of the Spartans' every move is fully displayed in "300," in shot after bloody shot. Audiences will leave "300" with the memory of one particular sequence in which we see in one gorgeous slow-motion/fast-motion/back-to-slow-motion shot, King Leonidas viciously take down one enemy after another for what seems like five minutes without ever cutting away. It is glorious.

The stylized combat of "300" is, as far as I've seen, unparalleled in American filmmaking, and that includes "The Matrix," "The Lord of the Rings," and everything else. In fact, "Rings" devotees may wish to avoid "300," because after seeing Frank Miller's widescreen illustrations come to life and start moving, leaping, hacking, gouging, tearing and bleeding all over their neighborhood IMAX, the Tolkien trilogy will be reduced to little more than the very long story of a schizophrenic Muppet and his curiously affectionate companions. And I love those movies!

The metaphor should not be taken literally, but does serve to highlight the slow, grinding, trivial and sometimes contrarian nature of politics. On our home front, discussion and debate about what is best for the country becomes surrounded by lesbian daughters, patriotism, settling scores and draft-dodging.

"300" diverges from Miller's graphic novel most obviously with the inclusion of a subplot involving Leonidas' wife Queen Gorgo, played by Lena Heady, and the politician Theron, portrayed by Dominic West. While Leonidas is battling the Persians, the Queen works to persuade Congress to bypass the nonsensical decrees of the mystic Ephors and send the rest of Sparta's army to aid the King in saving them all from obliteration. Theron, a scheming politician with an agenda that depends on the Persians winning, attempts to derail the Queen's machinations by standing before Congress and accusing the Queen of assorted scandalous activities including adultery.

To call this addition a "subplot" is somewhat misleading, as book fans are used to "subplots" in film adaptations meaning "new and generally needless changes to the text at the expense of better material they'd rather see on screen." "300" omits nothing, or at least nothing crucial, and the Queen/Theron scenes serve to actually strengthen Miller's story. Viewers get to see the fabled strength of Spartan women, not to mention the weakness of an eerily familiar Congress that allows the substance of a critical issue to be obfuscated with gossip and sensation. While the heroes of Sparta continued to fall at the hands of an unstoppable enemy, their government bickered about who was sleeping with whom.

The Spartans came to their country's (city-state's) aid:

But despite the parallels that we can draw to the scenarios depicted in "300," it's important to remember that the story is (largely) true. This battle really happened. It's not a metaphor for anything , and the connections I or any other viewer draws to the world of today are just coincidental. That the United States is currently experiencing a conflict with modern-day Persia has nothing to do with "300." Yet meaning and symbolism will by some viewers be inferred, even where this is none. To be fair, it's likely because riding shotgun with Leonidas and his 300 is so much fun.

Beware complacency, decadence, appeasement. That would be the lesson here.