Originally Posted by ru-ga-ru
By DAVID KAHANE
Blatant homophobia? Leonidas roars his defiance at the Persian invaders in "300."March 16, 2007 -- OK, this is weird.
Since about, oh, Sept. 12, 2001, every writer, producer, director and suit in Hollywood has known one sure rule: Don't make fun of our so-called "enemies."
Don't stereotype them as bad guys. Don't mock their beliefs. Don't even mention their names. And for heaven's sake, don't make them mad.
Instead, try to understand them. Celebrate their diversity. And realize that - in a world where black is really white, up is really down, an attack is really self-defense and self-defense is really a provocation - we are actually the enemy.
Out went any script that ascribed anything but the purest of motives to Arabs, Iranians and Muslims. Back came everybody's favorite villains: ex- and neo-Nazis (I haven't met any, but I hear they're everywhere) and crazed Christian fundamentalists, lurking out there in flyover country, itching to pull the triggers to establish a theocracy in a country we all know perfectly well was founded by unarmed vegetarian multicultural atheists.
So we make films like "Kingdom of Heaven," in which the Christian ruler of Jerusalem becomes a hero by surrendering the Holy Land to the noble Saladin.
But now "300" has got the whole town buzzing. Graphic novelist Frank Miller, director Zack Snyder and a couple of other writers pulled in $74 million last weekend with a gory retelling of the Spartans' defense at Thermopylae, a handful of brave warriors standing up against the limitless central-Asian hordes - iron men vs. effeminate oriental voluptuaries; patriots against robotic slaves.
The Hollwood talk isn't just about the movie's first-weekend grosses. Is it an ode to Riefenstahlian fascist militarism? A thinly veiled attack on Bush's war-mongering? Or something else?
The Iranians sure didn't like it. "American cultural officials thought they could get mental satisfaction by plundering Iran's historic past and insulting this civilization," said Javad Shamqadri, the cultural adviser to Iran's President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. "Following the Islamic Revolution in Iran, Hollywood and cultural authorities in the U.S. initiated studies to figure out how to attack Iranian culture. Certainly, the recent movie is a product of such studies."
Shows what you know, buddy. The only studies Hollywood ever initiates are when movies like "300" open unexpectedly big and execs have to interrupt their weekends to get 10 scripts just like it on their desks by Monday morning and in production by Friday afternoon.
Still, something strange is going on: When, early in the film, a sneering Persian emissary insults King Leonidas' hot wife, threatens the kingdom and rages about "blasphemy," the king kicks him down a bottomless well. And yet nobody in Sparta asks, "Why do they hate us?" and seeks to find common ground with the Persians on their doorstep. Why not?
The Spartans mock the god-king Xerxes (whose traveling throne resembles a particularly louche Brazilian gay-pride carnival float); mow down his armored "immortal" holy warriors while clad in nothing but red cloaks, loincloths and sandals - and generally give their last full measure to defend Greek civilization against superstition and tyranny.
Where are the Spartan voices raised in protest against this blatant homo- phobia, xenophobia and racism?
The only way this bunch of refugees from a Village People show can whup our heroes is by dangling some dubious hookers in front of a horny hunchback who makes Quasimodo look like Tom Cruise, and by bribing a corrupt legislator to tie up reinforcements with various legalistic maneuvers. When the queen finally kills the councilor, the others call him a "traitor." Isn't that both blaming the victim and questioning his patriotism?
You'd think "300" was a metaphor for something . . .
I heard the other day that one of the creators of this film is . . . yes, a closet conservative. Well, now he's a rich closet conservative.
So that noise you heard blowing from the west this week was hundreds of writers from Playa del Rey to Santa Barbara, sticking their fingers in the air to see if the wind's suddenly shifted, wondering if we can shelve our metrosexual "Syriana" and "Babel" knockoffs and conjure up some good old-fashioned "men of the West" material.
Because the dirty little secret is, we used to write these movies all the time. Impossible odds. Quixotic causes. Death before surrender. Real all-American stuff, in which our heroes stood up for God and country and defending Princess Leia and getting back home to see their wives and children, with their shields or on them.
And the dirtier little secret is: We loved writing them.
Even a blacklisted communist like Carl Foreman came up with "High Noon," in which a lone Gary Cooper defends a town full of ungrateful, carping yellowbellies and then throws away his badge in disgust at their cowardice.
But then came psychiatrists and psychologists and Ritalin and global warming and racism and sexism and homophobia and the enlightened among us said the hell with John Wayne and Gary Cooper. Hollywood became one big Agatha Christie novel in the last chapter - you know, where the survivors gather in the drawing room and realize: The killer must be one of us!
But now, I'm starting to wonder.
Starting to wonder if celebrating diversity is getting us anywhere when the Iranians think we're insulting their civilization by making King Xerxes a seven-foot-tall club queen.
Starting to wonder if a movie that has no stars, the look and feel of a video game, and the moral code of the United States Marine Corps might have something to say, even to audiences in New York and L.A.
But most of all, I'm starting to wonder what it might feel like to be the good guy.
David Kahane is a nom de cyber for a writer in Hollywood. Adapted from National Review Online.
