Saturday - March 17, 2007

Category Image 300


I saw the new movie "300" yesterday. I am shocked, to the very foundation of my being that Hollywood made this movie. It is the most purely masculine, human, non-touchy-feely movie I have ever seen.

Frank Miller is a comic book artist, who seems to have invented or at least perfected the "graphic novel" as an art form and has now made one of these into this movie. This is the explanation for the surreal and fantastic elements of the movie. Once you understand the origins of the movie as coming from comic book art, you can then accept the fantasm and understand why it is there.

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Comic books have long been the last haven for boys to see heroes presented as unequivical heroic and principled men – and women. It's common, and usually central, to many stories in book or movie form to give the hero or central figure a flaw. This flaw is often used to create the tension or turning point of the story, and is a useful plot device. The problem is that for modern writers the reliance on giving a hero a weakness has too often included making the hero weak in moral fortitude.

I think that this weak moral fiber has been so prevalent that most people no longer recognize this weakness as unusual and are disappointed when a hero is presented who has no doubts or is unwavering.

In the movie "300" Frank Miller has completely forsaken this weakness. King Leonides is unwavering in supporting his country, ruthless in protecting freedom, and unforgiving to those who challenge democracy. The anti-hero, such as in a Paul Auster novel, is more understandable to contemporary readers. A Paul Auster character of Leonides would have him wondering if he was making good decisions, and end up crushed by the weight of responsibility, howling at the moon in a descent into madness. Such are heroes today.

In a twist that is like a breath of fresh air to me, Miller did include one weakness in one of the heroes, but not the king. The king's captain of Spartans is a powerful and unwavering supporter of the king, a man to be emulated by all other men, second only to the king's example himself. The captain is so dedicated that he includes his eldest son on the campaign, even boasting that if his son were to die, he has others back home to carry on the family name that he is equally proud of. Of course the whole story is that all these 300 will die, but it so happened that the son was killed before the father was killed. The father then showed his weakness. He flew into a rage, and that night he went off alone to mourn.

In a normal movie, the king would seek out the captain, console him, try to make him feel better. But in this movie, the king simply looked over with worried interest and waited, confident that his captain would regain his composure. Finally, when he was needed for battle again, the captain returned to the king, not with sorrow and resignation, but changed nonetheless. He declared to the king that his son's death has changed him, by filling him with hate.

In modern society, this is considered bad. You're never allowed to hate. You should always forgive. But this is a pre-christian society where forgiveness is not required for enemies that lop off your son's head. In 480 BC you're allowed to hate those who would enslave you without apology. The king responds, not with bravado or fakery, but with seriousness that this is a good change, and they both wade into battle again. A weaker story-teller, a modern story-teller would have given this episode to the main character, Leonidas. Frank Miller knew that his hero would never lose his bearing, and only the second in command could do so, and even he could only do so if he returned even firmer in his belief of his cause. Frank Miller understands true heroism.

The theme of this movie is blatant and unapologetic. You must fight to protect your family, your country, your freedom. King Leonidas shows how men were expected to act 2500 years ago, and should be expected to act today. Sadly, our culture doesn't understand heroism. The concept has been watered down so much that someone is called a hero for the most banal of acts. Frank Miller reminds us what real heroes are, what real heroism requires, and why it is to be admired.

Many years ago, I became fascinated by two topics: Bravery and mutiny. I'm still fascinated by them both. I wonder at what keeps men disciplined and obeying orders even when faced with danger and death. Both require the will to face danger, a commitment to supporting a cause and submission to authority even when leaders appear insane. Both are treated very badly in our culture. Mutineers are considered heroes today ("Kelly's Heroes" for example), and heroes are rarely unblemished.

One final kudo for this movie. It is the only time I have ever seen a portrayal of the Greek phalanx in a way that captures the way it is described by the ancients. Although to be artistic and exciting, Miller frequently abandons the phalanx to show the free-wheeling, one-on-one combat that plays so well on the screen, he does more than lip service to the phalanx. The ancients described the phalanx as a shoving match, with individuals crushed from comrades behind and from the enemy in front. Shields do more than protect from sword and shield thrusts, they are primarily used to push. A wall of shields with men behind pushing for all they're worth, while they stab to their front in the hope of breaking the other lines. I've never seen it so vividly portrayed.

As with the rest of the movie, it is not realistic. It is because it is not strictly realistic that it seems to capture the energy and power of the real battle. For instance, if you were to show an arm-wrestling contest on tv, it would be very boring. In fact this has been tried, but it is always boring. Although great power is being shown, the lack of movement makes it appear static. To understand the power of an arm-wrestling contest, artists have always shown the arms going back and forth, nearly winning, then nearly losing, then back again. The same with portraying a phalanx battle. To watch a real one would likely be like watching arm wrestlers. Frank Miller doesn't limit himself to realism, he uses his art to show power, confusion, in a way that nearly overwhelmed me. I'm not sure I can even describe it well, for fear of not doing the artist justice.

I agree with the historian and political commentator Victor David Hansen in his review of the movie, that the Greeks would have loved this movie. Their only quibble might have been that this city or that city was not properly represented, or that the details of certain governments or religious acts were distorted. This would be important to them and their jealousies, but of little interest to most of us. What the Greeks would have loved is the other liberties Miller took with realism. The lack of substantial armor by the Spartans and the Arcadians is consistent with much of their own idealized art. They would have marveled at the fantastic portrayal of monsters, and they would have agreed with the portrayal of decadence by the Asians, especially of Xerxes.

I can keep going, but I can't afford the time. I hope this movie spawns a new trend in movies by keeping a strong philosophical portrayal of heroes, but I suspect that the lesson for Hollywood will be to just make a gory movie with monsters. I don't think most people in the business really even understand what makes this movie so powerful.

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