Almost everything we think we know about classical Sparta is based on Athenian and Roman wet dreams and dubious political fantasies. So it’s unfair to be pedantic about the details of the Spartan king Leonidas’s valiant stand against the Persians in the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 BC. The ancients, who drooled over reenactments of Spartan whipping contests, would have enjoyed “300"s taut macho drama, with its tight leather underpants and “laconic” clichés at every turn. Frank Miller’s and Lynn Varley’s comic book, on which “300” is based, continues old traditions of reinventing the Spartans and Thermopylae, and both comic and movie introduce some quirks of their own. The Spartans allegedly institutionalized homosexuality, but are defiantly straight in “300” (a wasted opportunity given all that exposed flesh). The Greek-versus-eastern-barbarian slant of the ancient stories is reframed as a David and Goliath story against the forces of “tyranny and mysticism.” The no-nonsense Leonidas has what is clearly meant to be a Scottish accent, a slight whiff of Calvinism. He is pitched against the fake religious scruples of the Spartan priesthood (men with bad skin groping a half-naked writhing maiden). These ephors are in league with the similarly irrational Persians, portrayed as generic and timeless “orientals,” with belly-dancers and weird witch doctors. “300” ends up playing with some very 21st century fears and fantasies, and I’m more disturbed by these than by questions of who betrayed the Spartans or how many Greeks stayed and fought at Thermopylae.
