Some movies are simply made to be enjoyed at the theater. They are not films—they will not woo critics with their nuanced storytelling, nor garner attention with controversial subject matter. They are indeed movies, not films, and they exist solely to entertain, nothing more. Zack Snyder's movie adaptation of Frank Miller's ""300"" is a fine example of an excellent movie when taken for what it is.
It is not a historically accurate period piece; rather the graphic novel is a stylized retelling of the movie ""The 300 Spartans,"" which is itself a retelling of the actual events of the Battle of Thermopylae.
Undoubtedly the desired and most common reaction to ""300"" is as simple and primal as the movie itself—it is impossible to get through the entire movie without thinking ""man, that was cool."" Using the same techniques as the other Miller adaptation, ""Sin City,"" ""300"" is a sensory joy. Muscles ripple, weapons glisten and the fields are more reminiscent of Elysium than anything in reality.
However, this sensory experience comes at a price, which is paid in character development. With the exception of King Leonidas, in a highly aggressive, scene-chewing performance by Gerard Butler, it hardly matters what happens to the other characters, and most of the scenes without Leonidas suffer for this fact. Without previous historical knowledge, it is quite possible to go through the entire movie without knowing the names of anyone but Leonidas and Xerxes.
It is fortunate ""300"" does not rely on its acting; while Rodrigo Santoro is at best intriguing and at worst humorous in his pompous, homoerotic portrayal of the Persian god-king Xerxes, Lena Headey's Queen Gorgo is flat and uninspired. Her scene in front of the Spartan council had potential to inject some real emotion into the movie, but it feels as though Headey is performing at a forensics competition. Likewise, the crippled traitor Ephialtes suffers not only from looking like a cross between Igor and Gollum, but also from Andrew Tiernan's frantic and, frankly, distracting spewing of lines.
But then there is the fighting. As the individual Spartans are given but cursory individual lines or scenes, their purpose in ""300"" is to be one unit: the hero. This treatment also explains why the Thespians who died with the Spartans are omitted from the film.
In the first battle scene, the Spartans fight as hoplites—the elite soldiers of the mighty Greek phalanx—one unit holding against the unending swarms of individual Persians. While again not accurate, it is striking. The scene in which two of the Spartans fight a swarm of Persians in a long and seemingly uncut scene of wushu-style combat, complete with slow-motion and zoom, is one of ""300's"" highlights.
When taken as pure entertainment, ""300"" passes the test, but also can be seen as a hero tale, akin to the Homeric epic. Leonidas is the Odysseus, modified to rely more on his brawn and less on his wit.He does use some creative strategies throughout, and his tongue, sharp as his xiphos, is also reminiscent of the prototype Greek literary hero.
Leonidas is masculinity personified—so much so that one of the most needless sex scenes in movie history is added for no discernable reason except to show just how manly this great king is. Xerxes' role is relatively minor in terms of screen time, but is essential, as he is the perfect opposite to Leonidas—incredibly arrogant to hide his fear, his bombast and depravity at times channeling Malcolm McDowell's ""Caligula."" The Persians play off as a great foil, and their outlandish monstrosities, including a giant who looks so much like Sloth from ""The Goonies,"" one half-expects Leonidas to win the battle by offering him a Baby Ruth.
Much like its heroic warriors, ""300"" is blunt, unapologetic and perhaps the burliest film ever made. It may not be for everyone, but those who partake must be like the Spartans and go all-out: Watch it in the theaters or don't bother.
