Ah, to be male in Ancient Greece: "300" is a testosterone-driven fantasy in which all men are fearless warriors, driven by the need for battle and bloodshed. War is depicted as gloriously as any geek loner-type could hope for, with every soldier being the epitome of strength, courage, and physical brute force. Emotional bonding, sensitivity, and compassion don't even come into play; these men were trained to be ruthless killing machines, all in the name of preserving the glory of Sparta. This would no doubt be a ridiculous film if the story were presented in a straightforward, mainstream way. But straightforward and mainstream, "300" is not; this is pure, hard-driving escapism, from the frenetic battle sequences to the elaborate special effects to the over the top performances. In this sense, it's absolutely brilliant.
And it gets even better. Every shot, every setting, and every event is accentuated by a look so stylized that it's practically a living duplicate of Frank Miller's original graphic novel. This was achieved through computer-generated imagery, which was responsible for creating most of the film's locations. Bluescreen technology--also utilized for another incredible Miller adaptation, 2005's "Sin City"--made for a majority of the sets, leaving very little for the actors to actually work with. I can only imagine the effort that went into post-production, the endless hours of crafting landscapes, characters, and special effects all with the click of a mouse. The work paid off; the end product is an effectively heightened reinterpretation of reality, a kind of living illustration that transcends any sense of time or place. It's the perfect look for war story of this caliber, something so grandiose and overplayed that you can't get enough.
The plot is fairly simple: it's a retelling of the 480 BC Battle of Thermopylae, in which the Spartans fought against the Persians. King Leonidas (Gerard Butler) and his army of a mere 300 soldiers are ready to defend their land against the evil King Xerxes (Rodrigo Santoro). This is despite the fact that 1) they don't have the blessing of the gods to go to war, and 2) they will fight against an army of over one million. But this matters not; Spartan males are trained to be warriors at a very early age, essentially the day that they're born (only the largest, strongest newborns are spared; the small, sickly ones are unceremoniously thrown off of a cliff). They are taught the fine art of combat. They are made to take all kinds of physical pain, including lashings. They are conditioned to never retreat, even when facing insurmountable odds. Leonidas successfully survived such rigorous training (his first major battle was against a monstrous wolf with glowing eyes), as did the rest of his men. Now, they are ready for battle.
And after taking position near a beachfront cliff, the Spartans engage in ferocious battle with the Persians. Never on film has war been so much fun to watch. This is probably because each sequence was beautifully photographed; even graphic shots of stabbings, amputations, and decapitations are so artfully constructed that it's hard to accept them as deplorable. The bodies of Persian soldiers are used to construct a blockade of surprising strength. Blood spatters from gaping wounds in dark, unrealistic globules, effectively looking more like spots of ink. There's a moment when arrows fly through the air in numbers so vast, they block the light of the sun. Nearly every shot is drawn out, often going in slow motion to show how carefully choreographed the gratuitous violence is.
The Spartans also fight against the Immortals, an army of ghastly yet fantastical creatures with an appetite for destruction. They were appropriately crafted as one-dimensional barbarians, made more effective because of their appearances; they wear long black robes, and their pale, monstrous faces are hidden behind Tragedy-style silver masks. Where they came from is anyone's guess. I suppose it doesn't really matter, especially since they pave the way for a number of other ghoulish creatures that would give the creations of Clive Barker a run for their money. They--and every aspect of the film, for that matter--make it obvious that the real emphasis is on style instead of story, which under different circumstances would make for a miserable experience. But in this case, it works quite well; while a definite story is being told, it would be of little significance were it not for the special effects.
This isn't to say that the story of "300" is bad. Quite the opposite: despite being simplistic, the story is quite strong, especially when a couple of subplots are factored in. Back in Sparta, Leonidas' wife, Queen Gorgo (Lena Headey), is up against a corrupt Senate, already bought out by the Persians in order to ensure Sparta's stability. The arrogant and treacherous Theron (Dominic West) is clearly not ready to handle a woman of such strength, especially since she fully supports Leonidas and Sparta's involvement in the war. Because she intends to plead to the Council for the deployment of more soldiers, Theron challenges her authority by exclaiming that her words will fall on deaf ears.
Another subplot involves Ephialtes (Andrew Tiernan), a hunchbacked, hideously deformed Spartan who begs to join with Leonidas and fight against the Persians. Leonidas appreciates his passion, but refuses to let him fight; he's unable to lift his shield, and this would only create a weak spot in their defense system. Feeling rejected, Ephialtes personally appeals to Xerxes, who promises a wealth of power, money, and pleasure in exchange for loyalty. This scene takes place in Xerxes' den, in which a throng of misshapen creatures engages in an orgy. Before "300," I never would have believed that any film could include such a scene, or at least a scene that would work in any way, shape, or form. I was wrong; it was a fascinating scene, forcing the viewer to reassess what is beautiful and what is ugly.
The film is narrated by Dilios (David Wenham), a Spartan soldier with a hard-edged masculinity that shines through despite a deceptively soft voice. He recalls Leonidas, Sparta, and the Battle of Thermopylae with eloquence; when considering the heavy-handedness of war, this is no small task. Yet he always gives a perfect delivery, and that only strengthens the appeal of "300." This is in a world all its own, a world dominated by battle cries, sword fights, and bare-chested men that are ripped like bodybuilders. It's all thanks to Frank Miller, whose creative vision has allowed for a truly unique theatrical experience. If he creates another graphic novel, I can't wait for it to be adapted for the big screen.