Monday, April 02, 2007
300
I told my students I went to see "300" and they asked me what I thought of it. Now you must know, I am a shameless fangrrl from way back and have loved Frank Miller's writing since The Dark Knight and the Dark Knight Returns. I do have sort of a Wonder Woman fetish. I also have seen "Reign of Fire" and "Phantom of the Opera" each about, oh, thirty five times. So there is a pattern emerging: comic girl, Greek mythology, great writing, and Gerry Butler. This was a no-brainer.
300 men in codpieces, cloaks and abs to die for? Check. A tough female character that I could relate to? Check. Swords, sorcery, mayhem, a just cause and Rodrigo Santoro in eyeliner and gold lipgloss? Oh yeah.
At one point, trying to decide if Gerry Butler's eyes are blue or gray, I looked over at my husband who, like any teenage fanboy, had the biggest grin on his face whilst heads were rolling and blood was spurting on the page/screen and I thought to myself, I love this man. (I love you too, Gerry, but I'm married. Sorry...) Where else can I go and spend two hours looking at abs of steel and chests forged from the gods themselves, look at my long haired, pierced and tattooed Choctaw man and think it's true. I have found my soulmate.
Did I love "300"? Yeah, all of the bad guys looked like me. All of the Spartans were white Brits. The romantic in me goes home to the real world in which I'm sleeping with America's enemy. The Glaswegians didn't have it too great from the English either. A Spartan with that fine Scottish brogue seems fitting after all, after all, didn't we all have to sleep with the enemy to get where we are now?
Labels: 300, frank miller, gerry butler, wonder woman
