
Having heard some high praise for the recent Frank Miller adaptation, 300, I trekked off to the theatre a few weekends ago to catch it myself. What followed was an interesting mix of emotions for me. I am usually easily able to suspend disbelief and enter into the world of a film, and it is indeed almost always my goal to do so when watching a film. But some films make that really really hard to do. Or maybe to put it more accurately; sometimes John Howard Yoder and Stanley Hauerwas make that really hard to do.
300 lacks nothing in stylistic cinematography or art direction. Every single frame lives in a creative land somewhere between Miller’s original comic book and modern day Photoshop art. The texture and style of the film exude a larger-than-life mythical quality that enhance the tale of 300 Spartans fighting off Xerxes’ vast armies. It is a story that can only be told in paintings and campfire tales, and in that regard 300 does exceedingly well.
Some have called 300 one-part Art Film one-part Action-Adventure war movie. I would agree, and the first part is done masterfully. But it’s that nagging issue of content that kept irking me about the second part of 300. While I was continually drawn into this Spartan world by the artistic beauty I was constantly ejected from it as I heard Yoder, Hauerwas and especially Jesus ringing in my ears.
The overtones of what Walter Wink calls “redemptive violence” are nowhere more pronounced than in 300. The Spartan culture while shown as a somewhat barbaric solider society is nonetheless glorified in perhaps every barbaric trait other than their systematic killing of “less than ideal” babies. While this is shown in a horrific light, the rest of their violent ways are glorified as essential parts of a “rational” and “democratic” society. The overtones connecting American culture and military (especially American Marines) to the Spartan warriors are obvious. King Leonidas’ wife, Gorgo lectures the politicians about the necessity for violence using today’s popular phrase “freedom isn’t free.” All these themes kept me from truly entering the movie. Instead I held it at arms length, thinking to myself, this is exactly what Jesus subverts in the Roman empire. This society built on violence, the culture that disciples its people in warfare no matter the personal cost to children and wives. The Roman empire Jesus lived under and was crucified by was heavily influenced by the Spartan legends and ethos. This is the same warrior-culture that the Gospel has a harsh judgment for, and while we have tended to privatize our war-making, we Americans buy into many of the same illusions that the Spartans did.
I kept trying to see where Christians would fit into this whole story (had they been around back then). I think that the Jesus people wouldn’t be caught dead on the side of Xerxes, the Persian emperor who called himself a God. The followers of Jesus wouldn’t march with the Persian army in it’s goal to conquer the world. But neither would the Jesus people devote their lives to being discipled as killing machines in the city of Sparta. The Spartan story of redemptive violence would be in direct conflict with the followers of Jesus who practiced redemptive suffering.