300--Movie Review

There are two ways to write about 300: as a fan of graphic novelist Frank Miller (Sin City), who wrote the book upon which this film is based, or as someone who is unfamiliar with the genre. This review is written in the latter mode. Hence, this piece will be nothing more than an evaluation of the merits of the movie as a movie, not as an adaptation of the source material. Divorced from Miller, is 300 a movie?

The short answer is not quite. 300 lacks story, characters, and a dynamic plot. It does have an abundance of striking, unforgettable visuals (but we're not talking about where those came from). Arrows filling the sky, blotting out the sun like a plague of locusts. A half-nude oracle, dancing as though underwater, filmy, luminous veils swirling about her in zero gravity. A black horse that rears into tableau like a carved ebony chess piece. And the 300 themselves, noble Spartans taking on the massive army of the Persian King Xerxes at the doomed Battle of Thermopylae, dressed nobly in the red capes, black loincloths, and supple boots as befitting the finest heroes of the Worldwide Wrestling Federation.

The look of 300 is highly stylized, with nary a frame that hasn't been tweaked within an inch of its life, and the result is gorgeous beyond imagining whenever director Zack Snyder (Dawn of the Dead) and cinematographer Larry Fong (Hero) aren't focusing on interactions between the characters. Where the scenes are static tableaux, everything works, but as soon as there is more than one speaking character in a scene, the staging falls apart completely. In particular, a key scene involving two characters debating in a public forum ends up looking like a bad high school production of The Crucible, with characters performing unmotivated crosses with awkward, telegraphing gestures.

Star Gerard Butler (Phantom of the Opera), playing ubër-male King Leonidas, fares as well as anyone can with the stiff dialogue he's forced to mouth, but Lena Headey (The Brothers Grimm) as the unfortunately named Queen Gorgo falls apart when tasked with delivering a rousing speech. It's not her fault that said speech lacks poetry, fire, or logic, but she's out of her league impersonating an orator. But faring worst of all is Brazilian star Rodrigo Santoro (Love Actually), forced to play King Xerxes as the foppish star of a mid-90s Michael Jackson video, replete with facial piercings and heavy eye makeup. From afar, seated high on his massive pedestal carried by a hundred slaves, King Xerxes appears as the god he claims to be. But up close and talking, he's a caricature and a buffoon.

The story shouts a vague message about the importance of freedom, but it's ultimately unclear how Spartans, enslaved as they are by their stringent traditions and violent culture, are as emblematic of liberty as William Wallace's blue-butted rebels. Because the film doesn't ground the battle in a solid, emotionally engaging narrative, their sacrifice comes across as mere macho posturing, instead of the inspiring bravery of the noble underdog. There are a few sops to dramatic developments that don't go anywhere, like the deformed Spartan rejected by Leonidas, who ends up tempted into Xerxes's service. However, Leonidas has nothing invested in this man at all, so when he steps forward to beg Leonidas to kneel for the sake of Greece, his plea is devoid of anything approaching dramatic coherence. 300 is a delight for the eyes, but an offense to the heart.