Oh Those Wacky Spartans

Mar 09, 2007 18:54

Does anyone think it's too gauche to ask her Fairy Godmother for her very own life-size Leonidas, complete with leather codpiece? Yeah, I didn't think so either.


So, 300 was... um... yeah. Do I really have to say that I only went to the movie to see a nearly naked Gerard Butler strut around in leather man-panties? Honestly, if Troy had been conceived of in the same fashion, there would be many, many more Eric Bana obsessed women in the world. Even though I am a Frank Miller fan, and was very intrigued by the film's stylism as shown in the trailers, I'm not even going to pretend that my interest in seeing this film can't be boiled down to a visceral appreciation of the male form.

And appreciate it I did! So many men in leather man-panties, so few adjectives to describe it all. I will let a simple GUH sum up all I feel in that respect. GUH. Man-panties, red capes, spears... what more could a gal ask for in a movie? Well...

Perhaps I had too few expectations of the film, or I'm still getting over the disappointing one-two punch of Troy and Alexander, but I was left feeling strangely unaffected and disengaged at the end of the film. I was left neither truly loving it, nor truly hating it. Yes, the visual conception of the film, the art direction, were unique and arresting. Yes, I had had almost two hours of eye-candy, but I was still left wanting. Is this the peril of watching an historically based film in which you absolutely know how it will all turn out for our intrepid heroes? Is it impossible for the viewer to become emotionally involved with characters' whose cultural values are really too strident for empathy? Because, let's face it, the Spartans are so, well, spartan, that I find them hard to relate to, even if some of the values they claim to be supporting are at the center of American democracy. I can respect them, I can ogle them, but I find it hard to dredge up a torrent of sympathy for characters who seem a hair away from being labeled psychotic.

And, maybe, just maybe, my reticent approval is actually misdirected anger towards director Zach Snyder. Why? Because, there's this scene in which there is a fully naked Gerard Butler, and all we get is an ass shot. Come on, Zach! You've got thousands of women (and some men) out there in the audience silently screaming, "Turn around! Turn around! YOU TEASE, YOU HORRIBLE HORRIBLE TEASE!!!!" Where's the love in that?

For some reason, seeing 300 put me in the mood to come home and put in my dvd of Troy. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age, but I actually find myself forgiving the film of some of its MST3K-type badness. Which either means I'm coming to like the film more as it's grown on me over the years, or I've received a sharp blow to the head in the past week. Either way, I'm screwed, aren't I?

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