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So, 300. It is what it is. If anyone tries to tell you that it's a cinematic masterpiece, they're lying, high, or a critic on the take. In fact, the acting is spotty and melodramatic, and I'm still trying to decide of it was the product of a shoddy director or a deliberate choice on his part in keeping with the gaudy, graphic-novel presentation.
Comic-book stylization has been en vogue since Sin City, and there are obvious similarities between the visual sets of the two films. Grainy stock, dark overlays, muted colors punctuated by bright splashes of color. And gory, unapologetic, stylized violence.
There are rivers of blood in this film. Gorings, amputations, decapitations-you name it, this movie has it and takes giddy glee in showing it. Wounds and physical deformities are documented in leering detail, and whip marks on Xerxes' various monstrosities are clearly visible. Humps, deformed limbs, bulging eyes, and leprous faces are realistically rendered to a disturbing degree.
Physical deformity is touched upon throughout the film, and to be honest, I was bothered by the parallel the filmmaker drew between physical deformity and moral depravity. By necessity, the titular 300 Spartans were strapping paragons of physical beauty, and as I understand it, this is fairly historically accurate. The ancient Spartans did, indeed, value health and did, indeed, leave unhealthy, disabled babies to die. Unpleasant as this aspect of the film is, I can't quibble with it because there is the historical precedent.
What I do take umbrage with(hem hem) is the not very subtle insinuation that all deformed or disabled people are as lacking internally as they are externally. All of the deformed people in the film, including a Spartan man who was hidden by his parents, are represented as craven moral degenerates ruled by lust and greed. The Spartan hunchback who initially goes to Leonidas and asks to fight alongside him eventually betrays him to Xerxes when Leonidas tells him-not unkindly, I might add-that because he cannot raise his shield, he cannot be used in the phalanx. Whether this treachery is prompted by Leonidas' rejection or is an inveterate moral failing born of his physical corruption is never explained, but the latter is strongly implied by the scene in the Persian whorehouse when the hunchback proclaims, "I want it all-money, women, power. And one more thing: a uniform."
The first three are fairly standard requests for a movie villain, but the last is telling. A uniform indicates fraternity, and what the hunchback clearly wants more than anything is a sense of belonging. When he first approaches Leonidas, he's wearing his father's Spartan uniform, and when he is turned away, he casts it off the cliff in a fit of rage and goes in search of another brotherhood, which Xerxes offers him.
The implication of the film is that since the Persians are perverse mystics, they produce and attract degenerates. Several of the whores in Xerxes' base camp are deformed. One is a breastless hermaphrodite with flippered stumps for arms. These nasty Persians will fuck anything, the movie says, and invites the audience to shudder. The audience is asked to side with the Spartans not because they are so noble, but because the Persians are so debased. It's a cheap ploy, but sadly, I suspect it works more often than not.
When they're not hammering the "the Persians are bad because they let the cripples live" angle, they're implying that they and the Athenians are bad because they're "man-lovers". Xerxes, despite his booming voice and towering physique, is oddly effete. He wears lipstick and nail polish and never raises a hand in battle. He is a nancing weenie.
So, to recap, the Persians are bad because they tolerate the cripples and gays. The Spartans are good because they like Schwarzenegger bodies and boobies.
Make no mistake. There are boobies everywhere, including a gratuitous sex scene that has no bearing whatsoever on the later narrative. Just a scene where we're treated to several slow-mo shots of the actress' bouncing breasts. At least they were natural and not the unmoving, silicone speed bumps so popular with Hollywood and porn. There are also boobs in the brothel, boobs in the oracle scenes, and boobs in the rape scene. I can only surmise that the director thought the males in the audience should be treated to some wood.
David Wenham acquits himself admirably as Spartan and voice-over bridge that gets the film from Point A to Point B, and Gerard Butler is some nice mancandy. If he'd but moved his leg, I could've discerned if he should be called Gerard the Ever-Hard, but the director gave no love to the ladies.
300 is drawn in bold, crude strokes so that even gibbering simpletons can understand it. There have been critics and reviewers who claim that it's a veiled jab at the Bush administration. As Bill Engvall would say, somebody's got a little time on their hands.
If anything, it's a childish, allegorical endorsement of Bush's cowboy posturings. After all, the Spartans are the Greeks upon which noble Western society is based, and what are the Persians if not forebearers of those heathen, perverted Iraqis who need to be vanquished and suitably inculcated with Western civilizations? I'd suggest the conspiracy nuts invest in a better class of tinfoil for their trendy hats.
For what it's worth, I don't think that's a valid interpretation, either, and certainly not one that the screenwriters intended. Hollywood just isn't that deep, I'm afraid, and never mind its protests to the contrary. I'm looking at you, Mr. Clooney.
This was just a movie designed to titilate teenage boys too young to buy porn legally and mindlessly entertain everyone else. It succeeds on both counts, but not exceptionally well. The realistic-sort of-battle scenes were interesting, but that's about it.
On the ficcing front, I've been contemplating a Law and Order: SVU plotbunny involving Tommy Dowd, the gigolo Eddie Cahill played in "Folly". If you'll recall, his pimp threw a pot of boiling water in face when she discovered he was wired. This was after she'd made two attempts to cave his head in.
I always felt sorry for Tommy, not just for the burns he suffered to his hands and face, but for the ridiculous assumptions others made about his life post-injury. His mother and the district attorney gnashed their teeth, and his mother was of the opinion that he would die alone and unloved.
The attitude irritated me, and I always meant to write a fic exploring what his life might be like, to challenge the idea that he couldn't be loved because of his disfigurement. I toyed with the idea of a blind former client getting wind of his injury and going to see him in the burn unit. Unlike most of his former clients, she never paid him for sex, but just to talk for a few hours. She liked him, thought he was sweet and charming, and he'd always been kind to her, so she goes to see him. She even remembers his favorite snack.
The first visit doesn't go well. In fact, it's a disaster. Tommy's still reeling from the pain of his burns and his newfound status as a second-class citizen, and he doesn't want what he perceives as another huge dollop of pity. He tells her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.
Eve(the former client) is hurt, buy she has her pride, and so she leaves and writes him off as just another asshole who misrepresented himself.
It's Tommy's mother who pulls his head out of his ass for him and reminds him that the road ahead of him will be hard, and that he can use all the friends he can find. It's not just her-Tommy's still a decent guy under the burns, and he feels guilty for being a prick-and so, once the worst of the burn recovery is over, he calls her and asks to meet. Eve is unenthusiastic, but she agrees, and the story takes off from there.
I freely admit that this is an excuse to play with another Eddie doll, but it's also a chance to explore disability from the other side of the coin. Until now, all my characters have suffered from congenital defects. I'd like to play with the idea of someone going from the haves to the have nots and how that affects them.
Not to mention the sexual baggage they both carry. Tommy is a former manwhore who had no control over sex. He was physically and emotionally exploited by his pimp and his clients, and he couldn't escape that because his mother needed the money to keep the family dry-cleaning business afloat. That has to have given him some sexual hang-ups.
Then you've got Eve, who has been burned by guys out for an easy score. Some, she knew what she was in for when she went to bed, and others, she thought there was more to it than thrust and release, only to find out the hard way that there wasn't.
It'll be interesting to see what happens when they come together, and I'm not sure that they won't fall apart. I think it'll be 25 parts.
Before that rolls out of my fic assembly line, however, I've got to finish my SPN From the Ashes challenge fic and the 4-6 remaing parts of Danse Macabre. The former is 1-2 days from completion, and the latter will resume as soon as the challenge fic is posted.
Comic-book stylization has been en vogue since Sin City, and there are obvious similarities between the visual sets of the two films. Grainy stock, dark overlays, muted colors punctuated by bright splashes of color. And gory, unapologetic, stylized violence.
There are rivers of blood in this film. Gorings, amputations, decapitations-you name it, this movie has it and takes giddy glee in showing it. Wounds and physical deformities are documented in leering detail, and whip marks on Xerxes' various monstrosities are clearly visible. Humps, deformed limbs, bulging eyes, and leprous faces are realistically rendered to a disturbing degree.
Physical deformity is touched upon throughout the film, and to be honest, I was bothered by the parallel the filmmaker drew between physical deformity and moral depravity. By necessity, the titular 300 Spartans were strapping paragons of physical beauty, and as I understand it, this is fairly historically accurate. The ancient Spartans did, indeed, value health and did, indeed, leave unhealthy, disabled babies to die. Unpleasant as this aspect of the film is, I can't quibble with it because there is the historical precedent.
What I do take umbrage with(hem hem) is the not very subtle insinuation that all deformed or disabled people are as lacking internally as they are externally. All of the deformed people in the film, including a Spartan man who was hidden by his parents, are represented as craven moral degenerates ruled by lust and greed. The Spartan hunchback who initially goes to Leonidas and asks to fight alongside him eventually betrays him to Xerxes when Leonidas tells him-not unkindly, I might add-that because he cannot raise his shield, he cannot be used in the phalanx. Whether this treachery is prompted by Leonidas' rejection or is an inveterate moral failing born of his physical corruption is never explained, but the latter is strongly implied by the scene in the Persian whorehouse when the hunchback proclaims, "I want it all-money, women, power. And one more thing: a uniform."
The first three are fairly standard requests for a movie villain, but the last is telling. A uniform indicates fraternity, and what the hunchback clearly wants more than anything is a sense of belonging. When he first approaches Leonidas, he's wearing his father's Spartan uniform, and when he is turned away, he casts it off the cliff in a fit of rage and goes in search of another brotherhood, which Xerxes offers him.
The implication of the film is that since the Persians are perverse mystics, they produce and attract degenerates. Several of the whores in Xerxes' base camp are deformed. One is a breastless hermaphrodite with flippered stumps for arms. These nasty Persians will fuck anything, the movie says, and invites the audience to shudder. The audience is asked to side with the Spartans not because they are so noble, but because the Persians are so debased. It's a cheap ploy, but sadly, I suspect it works more often than not.
When they're not hammering the "the Persians are bad because they let the cripples live" angle, they're implying that they and the Athenians are bad because they're "man-lovers". Xerxes, despite his booming voice and towering physique, is oddly effete. He wears lipstick and nail polish and never raises a hand in battle. He is a nancing weenie.
So, to recap, the Persians are bad because they tolerate the cripples and gays. The Spartans are good because they like Schwarzenegger bodies and boobies.
Make no mistake. There are boobies everywhere, including a gratuitous sex scene that has no bearing whatsoever on the later narrative. Just a scene where we're treated to several slow-mo shots of the actress' bouncing breasts. At least they were natural and not the unmoving, silicone speed bumps so popular with Hollywood and porn. There are also boobs in the brothel, boobs in the oracle scenes, and boobs in the rape scene. I can only surmise that the director thought the males in the audience should be treated to some wood.
David Wenham acquits himself admirably as Spartan and voice-over bridge that gets the film from Point A to Point B, and Gerard Butler is some nice mancandy. If he'd but moved his leg, I could've discerned if he should be called Gerard the Ever-Hard, but the director gave no love to the ladies.
300 is drawn in bold, crude strokes so that even gibbering simpletons can understand it. There have been critics and reviewers who claim that it's a veiled jab at the Bush administration. As Bill Engvall would say, somebody's got a little time on their hands.
If anything, it's a childish, allegorical endorsement of Bush's cowboy posturings. After all, the Spartans are the Greeks upon which noble Western society is based, and what are the Persians if not forebearers of those heathen, perverted Iraqis who need to be vanquished and suitably inculcated with Western civilizations? I'd suggest the conspiracy nuts invest in a better class of tinfoil for their trendy hats.
For what it's worth, I don't think that's a valid interpretation, either, and certainly not one that the screenwriters intended. Hollywood just isn't that deep, I'm afraid, and never mind its protests to the contrary. I'm looking at you, Mr. Clooney.
This was just a movie designed to titilate teenage boys too young to buy porn legally and mindlessly entertain everyone else. It succeeds on both counts, but not exceptionally well. The realistic-sort of-battle scenes were interesting, but that's about it.
On the ficcing front, I've been contemplating a Law and Order: SVU plotbunny involving Tommy Dowd, the gigolo Eddie Cahill played in "Folly". If you'll recall, his pimp threw a pot of boiling water in face when she discovered he was wired. This was after she'd made two attempts to cave his head in.
I always felt sorry for Tommy, not just for the burns he suffered to his hands and face, but for the ridiculous assumptions others made about his life post-injury. His mother and the district attorney gnashed their teeth, and his mother was of the opinion that he would die alone and unloved.
The attitude irritated me, and I always meant to write a fic exploring what his life might be like, to challenge the idea that he couldn't be loved because of his disfigurement. I toyed with the idea of a blind former client getting wind of his injury and going to see him in the burn unit. Unlike most of his former clients, she never paid him for sex, but just to talk for a few hours. She liked him, thought he was sweet and charming, and he'd always been kind to her, so she goes to see him. She even remembers his favorite snack.
The first visit doesn't go well. In fact, it's a disaster. Tommy's still reeling from the pain of his burns and his newfound status as a second-class citizen, and he doesn't want what he perceives as another huge dollop of pity. He tells her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.
Eve(the former client) is hurt, buy she has her pride, and so she leaves and writes him off as just another asshole who misrepresented himself.
It's Tommy's mother who pulls his head out of his ass for him and reminds him that the road ahead of him will be hard, and that he can use all the friends he can find. It's not just her-Tommy's still a decent guy under the burns, and he feels guilty for being a prick-and so, once the worst of the burn recovery is over, he calls her and asks to meet. Eve is unenthusiastic, but she agrees, and the story takes off from there.
I freely admit that this is an excuse to play with another Eddie doll, but it's also a chance to explore disability from the other side of the coin. Until now, all my characters have suffered from congenital defects. I'd like to play with the idea of someone going from the haves to the have nots and how that affects them.
Not to mention the sexual baggage they both carry. Tommy is a former manwhore who had no control over sex. He was physically and emotionally exploited by his pimp and his clients, and he couldn't escape that because his mother needed the money to keep the family dry-cleaning business afloat. That has to have given him some sexual hang-ups.
Then you've got Eve, who has been burned by guys out for an easy score. Some, she knew what she was in for when she went to bed, and others, she thought there was more to it than thrust and release, only to find out the hard way that there wasn't.
It'll be interesting to see what happens when they come together, and I'm not sure that they won't fall apart. I think it'll be 25 parts.
Before that rolls out of my fic assembly line, however, I've got to finish my SPN From the Ashes challenge fic and the 4-6 remaing parts of Danse Macabre. The former is 1-2 days from completion, and the latter will resume as soon as the challenge fic is posted.
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