Rated: MA
Director: Zack Snyder
Writers: Zack Snyder, Kurt Johnstad, and Michael Gordon, from the graphic novel by Frank Miller
Starring: Gerard Butler, Lena Headey, Dominic West, David Wenham, Rodrigo Santoro
Running time: 116 minutes
Plot: It is 480 BC. The Persian emperor Xerxes (Santoro) has assembled a huge army and stands poised to invade those Greek city states that have not yet submitted to him. The Spartan king Leonidas (Butler) leads his eponymous three hundred hoplites north to intercept Xerxes at the pass of Thermopylae in central Greece, hoping to hold out for reinforcements from Sparta and the rest of the Greeks.
The Battle of Thermopylae is one of those rare historical events that, simply by virtue of its grandeur, requires no fictitious augmentation to establish its own mythos. It has become a byword for courage in the face of insurmountable odds, for patriotic sacrifice, and for sheer bloody-mindedness. At Thermopylae, Leonidas saw a golden opportunity for immortality, and he grasped it.
The Spartan king (along with several thousand free Greeks and slaves) held out long enough for Athens’ navy to be mobilized; Xerxes was eventually repelled; the major Greek states remained free of Persian rule, and, most importantly for the history of the West, came to ally themselves more closely, thereby creating the conditions for the establishment of Alexander’s empire. It is so extraordinary a story that it is surprising that Hollywood has not portrayed it more often.
Frank Miller’s graphic novel, 300, takes the bones of Herodotus’s account and fleshes out the mythology. Miller’s Spartans take off their clothes and take on a pathologically disciplined belligerence. The near-nude warriors are obscenely muscle-bound, but the homoeroticism that should inhere in their Herculean physiques is dampened by their tendency to hack their opponents to bloody bits. It seems like the perfect source for a film, so one wonders why the project didn’t attract a more hefty budget, or a bigger-name director than Zack Snyder.
Snyder’s 2004 Dawn of the Dead remake was one of my favourite films of that year, and he brings the same music-vid-honed skills to bear on the style of 300. Shot almost entirely against blue- and green-screen, the film’s extraordinary (and source-faithful) visuals lend it an otherworldly feel that only increases our distance from the historical Thermopylae.
Regrettably, however, the desire to ‘go mythic’ also distances us from the men at the centre of the film. Dilios's (Wenham) irritating voice-over makes much of the Spartan camaraderie, claiming that, “Although few Spartans fell, each one who fell was a friend.” We need the voice-over to tell us, because we don’t feel it. When mythic-histories work (think Braveheart or Gladiator), it’s because the world-changing events simply provide the dramatic backdrop for very human stories. With 300, however, there’s scant incentive to care for the characters, despite the insistence of the overbearing score that we really should.
The actors are solid (as thesps, not just physically), but the Spartans they play are mere types, spouting worthy and overblown dialogue, in between bouts of stylised and claret-soaked hack-and-slash. 2005’s adaptation of Miller’s Sin City should have been instructive here: the film worked because the characters were as skilfully drawn as the visuals.
There are some awesome moments in 300, as the freaks that populate the ranks of Xerxes’ army — some of whom would seem more at home in Middle-Earth — come out to test the Spartans’ mettle. (Xerxes himself is a giant, androgynous aberration.) But even the fight scenes are somewhat diminished by Snyder’s incessant ramping up and down of the film speed: there’s simply too much slo-mo. For mine, the whole thing is a slightly messy fumble of a golden opportunity.
Verdict: Granted, it’s not a monstrosity like Troy or Alexander, but it’s no Gladiator, either. Still, the look of it probably warrants the trip to the cinema, provided you can cope with the highest number of involuntary amputations since the showdown at the House of Blue Leaves.
The Spartan king (along with several thousand free Greeks and slaves) held out long enough for Athens’ navy to be mobilized; Xerxes was eventually repelled; the major Greek states remained free of Persian rule, and, most importantly for the history of the West, came to ally themselves more closely, thereby creating the conditions for the establishment of Alexander’s empire. It is so extraordinary a story that it is surprising that Hollywood has not portrayed it more often.
Frank Miller’s graphic novel, 300, takes the bones of Herodotus’s account and fleshes out the mythology. Miller’s Spartans take off their clothes and take on a pathologically disciplined belligerence. The near-nude warriors are obscenely muscle-bound, but the homoeroticism that should inhere in their Herculean physiques is dampened by their tendency to hack their opponents to bloody bits. It seems like the perfect source for a film, so one wonders why the project didn’t attract a more hefty budget, or a bigger-name director than Zack Snyder.
Snyder’s 2004 Dawn of the Dead remake was one of my favourite films of that year, and he brings the same music-vid-honed skills to bear on the style of 300. Shot almost entirely against blue- and green-screen, the film’s extraordinary (and source-faithful) visuals lend it an otherworldly feel that only increases our distance from the historical Thermopylae.
Regrettably, however, the desire to ‘go mythic’ also distances us from the men at the centre of the film. Dilios's (Wenham) irritating voice-over makes much of the Spartan camaraderie, claiming that, “Although few Spartans fell, each one who fell was a friend.” We need the voice-over to tell us, because we don’t feel it. When mythic-histories work (think Braveheart or Gladiator), it’s because the world-changing events simply provide the dramatic backdrop for very human stories. With 300, however, there’s scant incentive to care for the characters, despite the insistence of the overbearing score that we really should.
The actors are solid (as thesps, not just physically), but the Spartans they play are mere types, spouting worthy and overblown dialogue, in between bouts of stylised and claret-soaked hack-and-slash. 2005’s adaptation of Miller’s Sin City should have been instructive here: the film worked because the characters were as skilfully drawn as the visuals.
There are some awesome moments in 300, as the freaks that populate the ranks of Xerxes’ army — some of whom would seem more at home in Middle-Earth — come out to test the Spartans’ mettle. (Xerxes himself is a giant, androgynous aberration.) But even the fight scenes are somewhat diminished by Snyder’s incessant ramping up and down of the film speed: there’s simply too much slo-mo. For mine, the whole thing is a slightly messy fumble of a golden opportunity.
Verdict: Granted, it’s not a monstrosity like Troy or Alexander, but it’s no Gladiator, either. Still, the look of it probably warrants the trip to the cinema, provided you can cope with the highest number of involuntary amputations since the showdown at the House of Blue Leaves.
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