300: A Review

300 is a difficult movie to review. I got into the experience, which is primarily a 2 hour testosterone-fueled adventure. Perhaps the most faithful response to the experience would be to simply offer a pronounced, guttural roar and move on. Certainly that response would be consistent with the intent of the marketing machine behind the movie, and perhaps of the director’s purposes.

The source material for 300 is a graphic novel by Frank Miller, a beloved comic book artist turned film director. That the movie grounds itself in the graphic novel rather than the famous Battle of Thermopylae, where a Spartan-led small army held off the Persian army for days, is significant to understand the movie’s ways. Miller made a name for himself in the world of graphic novels (read “comic books” for the less sympathetic) as a master of mood, drawing people into his worlds and stories through visceral art that captured the imagination, at times regardless of the strength of the story he was telling. This emphasis on the visual, a major reason why the comic book medium itself translates well into blockbuster films, comes through in 300. The movie is exciting storytelling, building on the fascinating and unique images from Miller’s work, much like Miller and Robert Rodriguez accomplished in the masterful Sin City, but expanding on the novel with a more interesting back story and character than the book originally offered.

That being said, historians will no doubt scoff at the picture. The movie takes huge liberties with the events themselves, the characters who played a part, and the cultures in view. Indeed, it is this last part that is currently catching the world’s attention, as the Iranian press proclaimed that “Hollywood declares war on Iran” through its depiction of the Persian Empire and its king. For those who have a love for history or an affinity for the cultures that are this movie’s villains, there are a lot of toes to step on, and 300 dances away.

But 300 doesn’t dance on these toes merely to offend, as these realities are a byproduct of the efforts to turn the participants in the Battle of Thermopylae into caricatures of heroes and villains. The Spartans are intensely devoted and passionate warriors, creating a culture that is perfectly geared to fight. King Leonidas, our film’s hero, is a passionate idealist, devoted to the freedom of Sparta and to his wife and child. His sacrifice, and the sacrifice of the other 300, is centered around their fight for freedom, for the triumph of “rationalism” over “mysticism.” The heroes of 300 wear no warts, and present a courage that is as sculpted as their bodies.

The villains also are as simple to understand. The Persian army is literally held up on the backs of slaves. Xerxes, the giant God-King, draped in gold and speaking with a thundering bass voice, reminds us of this as he steps on the slaves heads and backs as he walks down his “stairs” to meet Leonidas. Sexuality becomes one of the ways 300 depicts good and evil, as the Persians offer a decadent culture with apparent widespread homosexuality. One of the Spartans even makes reference to the Athenian “boy-lovers,” presenting us with the Spartans as the one noble, and heterosexual, culture. This, too, is a complete change from the historical realities for the Spartan culture. But this isn’t about their culture anymore. It is about ours.

What makes a hero? This is a question that could be asked of many movies, and especially of the summer, blockbuster fare (of which this movie fits in extraordinarily well). For 300, that answer lies in the clarity of conviction, in a courage to stand, in passionate love within monogamous (and apparently, heterosexual) relationships. Within Sparta, evil is found in the mystics who rely on superstition (that is, religion) rather than logic, in politicians who use their power to pursue their own ends at the expense of their people, and a deformed traitor who refuses to accept his place supporting the Spartan army.

These are clear lines that I expect many would resonate with, so long as it is not their own ancient culture that is the object of the caricature. These clear lines and defined roles make for enjoyable movie-viewing. It is fun at times to escape into a world where the lines between hero and villain are so easy to see, and all that is left is for the hero to draw the only line that he can draw. This is unambiguous and a place where good can triumph before the credits roll.
The Iranian response to the film, misguided though it may be, is a reminder of the limits of this hero’s journey. The reality that we live in rarely offers the kind of clarity that 300 depicts. The mistake comes when we attempt to draw the untextured reality of a world like this and bring it into our own world. Our current political climate, which seems to be sustained on polarization and radically simplified analysis of the world, commits this exact kind of mistake every day, as it asks us to divide the world into heroes and villains, to see the issues we face with a black-and-white clarity, and to stand firm against the evil that we face.

It is not that I disagree with this last value, only that I question my clarity on the first two. I want the kind of courage, loyalty, and heroic faith that Leonidas and the heroes of 300 embody. But I want to bring that character into a world where the politics are complex, and where my personal call is to love my enemies and to demonstrate to the world the love of God through the love that I have for other people. The “cowboy” hero, which is what the 300 hero embodies, has little room for these kinds of values, and so my search for heroism must go deeper, and will look different, than the heroes that emerge from the vivid world of the big screen. It is not, then, that 300 fails, in fact in many ways it is a great success. It is only that is asking questions that need deeper answers than what it is prepared to offer. Some of our answers will be written with periods rather than exclamation points, and most won't need a roar to accompany them.