Spartan smackdown!

I went to see this movie with a healthy dose of skepticism. Both my parents are from Sparta and I lived in Laconia for 10 years of my life. My mom has pictures of me as a nine-year-old, posing proudly in front of King Leonidas' statue. I was raised on these stories of doomed bravery and self-sacrifice.

But the buzz had been going on for months now. Every Greek in Montreal had been talking about the upcoming box-office opening of Frank Miller's "300" with such exaggerated and over-the-top patriotism and sense of pride; you'd think they were actually THERE when the battle took place!

All this hyperbole had been getting on my last nerve and so, when I finally went to see it, there was a part of me that didn't want to like it or believed it couldn't possibly live up to its expectations. After all, the whole world knew that this testosterone fest had been made with the average 14-year-old boy in mind, right?

Well, what can I say? There must be a 14-year-old boy somewhere inside me, because 10 minutes into the film, I was yelling and cheering with the rest of them. And I didn't stop until the end credits started rolling.

Is the film completely over the top? You bet. Is it campy? Like a Def Leppard video from the mid 80s, complete with the heavy metal riffs as the dead bodies start flying all over the Greek countryside. Does Xerxes look like he could give Ru-Paul a run for his money as a MAC make-up model? Does King Leonidas sound like he grew up in the lesser known Edinburgh part of Sparta? Yes and yes. Does the film take liberties with history and does the Persian army look like it's a recruiting ground for every circus freak that side of the Euphrates River? Affirmative, soldier.

But at the end of the day, it's a graphic novel, not a documentary. And it's beautifully told and beautifully illustrated. The visuals are so stunning, you simply cannot look away. Even when we’re staring at a movie where military combat is portrayed as a death ballet of sorts and war is glorified.

Leaving the theatre I wondered why my reaction to it was so strong and so unexpected and I think it has something to do with a human desire for simplicity. History (and life, in general) is undeniably complex. There's something irresistible about a black and white world, where adhering to an unbreakable code of honour is expected and never questioned. The good guys and the bad guys are easy to spot and there's a sense of decency associated with a world, where its leaders unflinchingly march into battle alongside their soldiers to their death, truly feeling the impact of their decisions; something that is sadly missing from ours.