Beyond Blood and Guts: "300" Fights in a Dreamscape

Rating: 8/10 (7 March 2007)

Imagine sitting by the fire and listening to the village elder tell of how 300 Spartan gladiators held off a million Persian invaders. Well, you don't have to. "300" is a campfire tale come to screen and mythologized to epic proportions.
The film is an adaptation of a graphic novel of the same name by Frank Miller, whom viewers might recognize as the novelist of "Sin City." "300" isn't as richly textured as "Sin City." It's focused more on the build up to war as opposed to the character clashes that brought an equal level of violence to "Sin City." But "300" has a very similar look and soundtrack, and more importantly, its narrative shares the same dark poetic qualities (I hesitate to use poetry, lest I conjure maladroit comparisons to Virgil or Homer) as those of the three "Sin City" story lines.
These poetic qualities are absolutely vital because "300" holds no pretense to realism; it's much closer to an opera (without arias) than the dramatic naturalism found in recent films, such as last week's "Zodiac." There are more than a few occasions early in the film when its gross characterizations of the Persian army could've been rather offensive. The film casts audacious black men as Persian emissaries, draping them in robes and chains that might've been ripped from racist cartoon characterizations of "African heathens" or "ragheads." The Persian king, Xerxes, is the pagan devil himself, decked in odd facial piercings, eyeliner, and beads that make him effeminate even as the bass notes in his voice are artificially enhanced to seemingly erupt from the most masculine bowels of the earth.
Yet because of the visual and lyrical poetic qualities, it's clear the film depicts an alternate plane of reality of the kind encountered during bizarre dreams half remembered come morning. In fact, the production notes suggest the film seems more like a dream dreamt by the narrator the night after the battle, preserving the events' emotional truths and employing facts not as objective truths, but as symbols that texture the emotion. This suggestion, to me, seems the most accurate way to view the film. And I think it counters those who'd find social metaphorical or allegorical statements supporting racism or the pros and cons of Bush's Gulf War efforts (which might otherwise be appropriate if the film were more literal).
It also helps that the dream emerges as its own independent reality. Fine performances from the leads are indispensable to this end, particularly those of Gerard Butler as the king, Lena Headey as the queen, and the narration of David Wenham (of "Lord of the Rings" acclaim) as one of the king's best friends and fellow soldiers.
There's also a distinct look and feel to the film that facilitates its independent reality. The lighting has odd and portentous contrasts. Distinct detail in the special effects carves edges into a misshapen human monster's tooth and chisels contours into the Spartan warriors' six-packs. A gritty soundtrack that fuses acid guitar rock with orchestral themes melds with the narrator's Australian accent to lend a course sense of order to the action, a Croc Dundee-like Outback fusion of simplicity and toughness. In short, the film is otherworldly.
Was it a great film? No. But an enjoyable film that's remarkably consistent with "Sin City" and will likely be an influence on other films later this decade? Yes. And it certainly makes Russell Crowe's "Gladiator" seem, well, un-poetic by comparison.