300 is ab-solutely ab-tastic yet ab-horrently boring.

Rating: 5/10 (17 August 2019)

Homoeroticism at its most stylish. Lumps of pure visualised muscle walking in sandals and red togas. Obnoxiously loud roars piercing the battlegrounds, asserting the Spartan masculinity to the world. Hardcore love making with thrusts in slow motion, keeping in time with the ethereal sounds of women crying. This is the ultimate "lads" fantasy. Incredibly simple with a bountiful of quotes to disguise the dreadful non-existent plot, fooling viewers into thinking this is a memorably excellent ordeal. It isn't. Snooze-inducing perhaps? Refusing to surrender to the God-king Xerxes, Leonidas rallies up 300 Spartan warriors to wipe out his endless army.
"Fascist propaganda" harks a critic. "An exercise in self-indulgence" claims another. Whilst the former is a stretch too far, likening the Spartan politics to a certain Western country as they combat a variety of "far off world" armies (hardly Snyder's intentions...), the latter remark is definitely more appropriate. Snyder, infamous for style over substance, adapts Miller's graphic novel with a near-perfect aesthetic imitation.
The colour grading, the excessive CGI blood, the myriad of stylised shots that are suitable enough to fill your bedroom wall with glorious posters. The combat sequences are what make 300 the fan-favourite classic that it is today, and essentially cemented Snyder's trademark visuals for all of his upcoming films. Particularly the ab-normally amazing one take tracking shots of Leonidas decimating waves of enemies, with his abs on full display. Abs! Seriously, these abs are so defined it makes bodybuilders question their workout regime.
But despite the stylised "madness" that allows Leonidas to roar "This. is. Sparta!", the warriors dining in hell are actually dining in an incredibly tedious film. There's no substantial plot, and you're kidding yourself if you believe there is one. Just Butler, in all his physical prowess, exhuming testosterone to all of his fellow cast members, encouraging them to shout that tiny bit louder. Enemies arrive, enemies are slain. Rinse and repeat until the inevitable final showdown that truly shows how one-dimensional these Spartan terminators are.
If a specific warrior met their tragic demise early on, no emotive response was to be had. Just hollow shells, with mediocre acting abilities, allowing Snyder to focus on showcasing his visual flair. That's it. The political conspiracy back in Sparta skewed the plot's momentum and forcibly shoved female empowerment in the viewer's face, y'know, just in case watching naked men fight was too masculine. The Greek mythological fantasy elements, of diseased wizards and oracles on a mountain and stuff, were underdeveloped and shoe-horned in just to enable further narration that plagued the entire film. I've watched the Battle of Thermopylae a good three times, and have fallen asleep at some point with each viewing. The pacing is just off the charts, and not in an acceptable way!
Alas, despite my usual acceptance of style over substance, this swords and sandals extravaganza has never fully worked for me. There are glimpses of excellence, most prominently during the multiple combat sequences and the quotes I love shouting when cooking dinner, but is weighed down by a "plot" that has no actual plot. I think I fell asleep this time during the CGI rhinoceros charging? Urgh...