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Ever since Mel Gibson’s Braveheart, filmmakers have
been attempting to recreate the myth of the strong charismatic leader
passionately, selflessly fighting a righteous battle for the noblest
of causes. None has gotten close. In fact, they are often so far
off the mark that using words like “freedom” and “honor”
in a solemn, non-ironic context has become a dangerous endeavor.
300 takes the challenge and it does so head on. Breaking
all the rules, 300 drowns us in idealistic language, black
and white (literally) delineations of good and evil, and dubiously
impressive battle scenes played out with an ever straight face.
It does everything it shouldn’t do and pulls it off with flying
colors.
The films colors just might have something to do with that. Fantastically
painted backgrounds throughout the film mirror the images created
in Frank Miller’s graphic novel of the same name and provide
a hint of dreamscape to compliment its hyper-romantic outlook. The
film follows Miller’s book nearly panel for panel, both in
word and design, and in almost every case improves upon its original.
The one storyline that the film adds, involving Leonidas’
wife rallying the politicians back at home, is particularly strong.
I’m not much of a feminist critic, but I’d love to see
a good feminist reading of the film. Early in the film, Queen Gorgo
makes an arresting display of strength by involving herself in the
King’s affairs and then defends her role to a Persian messenger
by insisting that Spartan women were powerful because they bore
Spartan men. Though spoken with a great deal of gusto in this particular
instance, it’s a common argument for female power and one,
I believe, that does not particularly excite feminists because it
only reverts woman to their traditional roles and positions of indirect
power. After this initial scene, we are left wondering what exactly
is the role of women in 300’s Sparta.
Three particular instances of female empowerment then follow. The
Oracle, the Persian seducers of Ephialtes, and the Queen’s
grudging agreement with Theron. Each of these cases exhibits a very
real power on the part of women that greatly affect that fate of
all, but in each of the three cases their power is tied up in their
sexuality and more significantly, their power is actually bondage.
This is most conspicuously portrayed in the character of the Oracle,
arguably the most powerful being in the universe who is yet a sexual
slave. In a film that’s all about the liberation of women
and children from literal bondage, 300 is offering a quizzical
picture of women indeed.
But all the tables are turned in the Queen’s final scene,
which quickly offers such a strong case for female empowerment,
it puts The Lord of Rings’ attempt to shame. By coyly mirroring
her pervious scene with Theron and sticking her weapon inside of
him, she succeeds in demonstrating both power of force as well as
the power of character demonstrated in her rousing speech to the
legislature. We thus finish with a parallel power structure, husband
and wife working together to secure freedom for all.
All the while, 300 is, of course, a film about men. Gerard
Butler is as masculine and heroic as any movie character in a decade
and his men, who embody the great virtues hard and strong
both physically and emotionally, are as awe-inspiring a force
as the silver screen has seen. A rare war film that's actually pro
war, 300 makes that case that to die for something actually
can be a noble cause. William Wallace would be proud.
UPDATE: Walter
Chaw, my favorite critic to hate, finishes his one star review
with this: “Though you could make the case that Snyder is
going for irony in equating these ancient psychopaths with the politics
of modern America, the better case is that 300 is an apology
for bellicosity so intent by the end to cast history as hagiography
that it quails at every moment of useful truth. I wonder if the
simple fact that it's a violent, self-justifying muddle doesn't
make it a decent allegory in spite of itself.”
That statement alone is almost enough for me to give 300
a 10.
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