I borrowed ‘300’ from the library. It was one of the movies that I didn’t see in the theatres and wouldn’t pay money to rent. But seeing as it was free from the library, I had nothing to lose from checking it out and giving it a look-see.
I first heard of this film from my brother. A friend of his got a part as one of the 300 (read extra) in the film. The producers posted online documentaries cataloguing the training and exercise the 300 endured to carve their bodies into impeccable shape. But the screening date came and went and I couldn’t be bothered to sit in the theatre to watch a bunch of steroid enhanced bodies cleave the flesh from each other. Usually I’m totally ‘up’ for that kind of thing.
So fast forward a year or so and I’m 5 minutes into the movie. The narrator explains Sparta’s societal structure. Apparently Spartans place the highest regard on being a warrior. Sons are taken at a young age from their mothers (who cry in anguish even though this should be expected) to learn the ways of being a warrior. In what can only be construed as torture by today’s developing country standards, these sons of Sparta fight, are beaten and learn that: the only one they can trust is their fellow warrior.
Now at this point I’m trying hard not to turn this movie off. I can see where it’s going. The blatant pro war drum is pounding. The hyper-masculinity of it all; the message that real men, true men don’t talk, they fight. I chalk it up my overly sensitive leftist leanings. I am a bleeding heart liberal after all; trained in policy and bureaucracy. It’s not a personal attack I tell myself; it’s good clean fun. I let it go.
Fast forward a couple of minutes and emissaries of Persia arrive in the capital of Sparta. The lead Persian is warned that in Sparta, men, regardless of their station in life are held accountable for their words. This means in Sparta there’s no diplomatic immunity. It’s also not lost on me that Persia is modern day Iran, and that all Persians in this movie have excessive piercings- synonymous in today’s society with punks and counter culture- or wear garments that can best be described as styled burquas. Also note that the King of Sparta: Leonidas is played by a Scottish guy. No dark features for our heroes. On the other hand, the emissary of Persia is black- perhaps African but surely dark skinned. He proceeds, in diplomatic speak, to request that Sparta accept the rule of Xeres, the Prince of Persia. Now here is where I turn the movie off. I consider myself a fair and rational individual. I can deal with the soldier as a real man/citizen slant. I can also deal with the passive depiction of women and the racial stereotyping of the characters. I can even deal with the backhanded insults to diplomacy and external relations but what comes next is the straw that breaks my freaking back. Leonidas, played by Gerard Butler, oozing masculinity makes a crack about the Athenians- the boy loving Athenians. On top of all this Nietzschesque jerking off, you’re going to add homophobia onto the stack? Was it really necessary? It totally is. See war is gay, the Spartans are gay and the movie is totally gay. Ok maybe not gay but war, and the movie- its hyper masculinity-are very homo-social and homo-sexual. And in America that’s simply a no go. This movie is supposed to be about busting heads. Busting heads in very revealing leather trunks in the field for months on end without a woman in sight. They’re saving each other’s lives, sharing tents. You see where I’m going. And it appears that the director and producers knew it too, so they insert these little quips so you know that they’re real men who sleep with chicks, hate diplomats and empires and live and die by the sword. The fact that their bodies could only be achieved by an exercise regime of a gay man is incidental. I turn off the DVD, put it away and log onto x-tube. If I’m going to watch a stroke piece- I’d rather it wasn’t schizophrenic.
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