Just saw 300.
I really liked it. It’s graphic, pacy, violent and – yes – mythical.
I certainly didn’t go into the movie expecting anything other than another frame-by-frame translation of a Frank Miller dark-dark graphic novel, and within this aesthetic it works.

300

Anita had the flick’s number from the start when she said that the tagline should actually be ‘Prepare for Gory!’
Boy, was she right. It’s vi-o-lent with a capital ‘o’. But the violence is slick and stylised and comic-book-as-fuck.
I also thought that the makers managed to extract a reasonable narrative from the extremely simple storyline.
Pity about the soundtrack – who knew that the Spartans were into strip-mall-metal guitar power-riffs? The soundtrack is more Xbox than Xerxes.
In the end it’s more testosterone (and thong) heavy than Sin City, and as such I liked it.

Now if only someone would produce a screenplay that could convince Frank Miller to film The Dark Knight Returns[1].

Prepare for Gory!

I did cringe a little at the pompous speeches made by Leonidas, his queen, Gorgo, and the his mythmaker sidekick Dilios.
It’s all quite standard flag-waving fare about glory and honour and justice and puking in your popcorn. More strip-mall-metal guitar chords ensue. I wasn’t fazed[2].

But what did get me about 300 was something due in large part to my own response to all the macho flexing.
I was amazed at how viscerally I react to all that glory/hero nonsense. I sat there squashing popcorn in my balled fist, squirming in my seat with each US-Marine-like A-ROOH! let out my the crimson clad warriors.
Here’s what I’m talking about:

Xerxes: Imagine what horrible fate awaits my enemies when I would gladly kill any of my own men for victory.
Leonidas: And I would die for any one of mine.

Leonidas: The world will know that free men stood against a tyrant, that few stood against many, and before this battle was over, that even a god-king can bleed.

Leonidas: [Dying words] My Queen! My Wife! My Love.

Leonidas: No retreat, no surrender. That is Spartan law. And by Spartan law we will stand and fight, and die.

What bullshit! But my testosterone/adrenaline levels attested to its efficacy(on guys at least).
Me too Leonidas, I also want to go and fight with you! A-ROOH! uhm, cough. sorry.

Stiff upper lip, kiddo.

It’s not that I don’t know what’s happening or what the dialogue is designed to make me feel.
I’m not ignorant of the mechanics of the appeal to emotion that makes propaganda and Newspeak work.
But I was surprised at how effective the technique of repeating(loudly) a oversimplified, testosterone-fueled message really is. By the sixth time Leonidas was crying for the Spartans! I was ready to shout back at him.
I guess that’s what makes crap like the following tender snippet work.

Stelios: It is an honor to die by your side.
Leonidas: It is an honor to have lived at yours.

diee!

And I’m convinced that it’s not simply a matter of having been socialised/brainwashed to respond to such oversimplified messages – it’s something far more reptilian[3] and its radically powerful.
Does the following sound familiar?

Dilios: This day we rescue a world from mysticism and tyranny, and usher in a future brighter than anything we could imagine. Give thanks, men, to Leonidas and the brave 300! To victory!

The world’s military is built on crap like this – honouring the glorious dead. And it’s not about honouring the gory carcasses at all – it’s about that injection of adrenaline/dopamine/testosterone at the back of the spine that makes you shout.

Still, good movie – violent.

[1] The only graphic novel that I re-read after years and loved just as much the 8th and 9th time around.
[2] Since Saving Private Ryan’s flag-waving end I’ve been prepare to stomach just about anything aimed at US cineplexes.
[3] From the linked wikipedia article: ‘The Reptilian complex is named for the most advanced part of the brain higher mammals share with reptiles. It is responsible for rage, xenophobia, basic survival fight-or-flight responses, territoriality, social hierarchy, and the desire to follow leaders blindly.’