300: The “Terrible Beauty” Of War

300 is one of those rare movies that causes an extreme polarization in the reactions of its viewers. You either loved the movie or you absolutely hated it, very few people walk out of the theater feeling apathetic about the last two hours. What’s interesting is the way in which the theme of the film perfectly mirrors this extreme polarization. The movie deals primarily with war, and the filmmakers held nothing back when it came to graphic violence. And yet, there’s something different about the violence in this film than, say, Saving Private Ryan. The filmmakers themselves used phrases like “stylized violence” and “a ballet of death” to describe the movie’s many battle sequences.

It didn’t strike me how deeply this film drove into and rose out of the human psyche until I started reading The Iliad the other day.

In Bernard Knox’s introduction to the book, he briefly discusses Homer’s interesting take on warfare. The Iliad describes combat and death in gruesome detail, there is no sentimentality about dying on the battlefield, nor a promise of reward in the afterlife. In this respect, The Iliad seems very anti-war. And yet, at the same time (sometimes within the same passage) the thrill of battle, of conquest and of glory shine forth with astonishing sentiment. The epic poem seems to be pro-war and anti-war simultaneously. Or perhaps such sharp distinctions are a modern invention, and it would do violence (no pun intended) to the complexity of Homer’s masterfully constructed poem to view it in black and white. It would also miss a powerful truth the poem conveys about humanity. Knox puts it this way:

Everywhere in Homer’s saga of the rage of Achilles and the battles before Troy we are made conscious at one and the same time of war’s ugly brutality and what Yeats called its “terrible beauty.” The Iliad accepts violence as a permanent factor in human life and accepts it without sentimentality, for it is just as sentimental to pretend that war does not have its monstrous ugliness as it is to deny that it has its own strange and fatal beauty, a power, which can call out in men resources of endurance, courage and self-sacrifice that peacetime, to our sorrow and loss, can rarely command.

A friend mentioned to me that if the Greeks had made movies, they would have been like 300. Think about it, what is The Iliad if not a ballet of death? My guess is that anyone who hated 300 probably doesn’t have too much appreciation for The Iliad either, other than its status as a magnificent work of ancient literature. It’s telling that the main criticism of 300 has been it’s apparent glorification of war, of fighting for fighting’s sake, and yet simultaneously it is commended (even by its dissenters) for being visually stunning, even alluring. There is a deep truth about human nature being overlooked there. And far from condoning the reckless glorification of violence, Knox is explaining how The Iliad for the ancient Greeks, and by extension 300 for us today, taps into something strangely beautiful and noble in humanity that only war is able to yield. You can never have a hero as brave and self-sacrificing as Leonidas without putting him into the kind of dire situation he must face at Thermopylae. Knox goes on to say:

Three thousand years have not changed the human condition in this respect; we are still lovers and victims of the will to violence, and so long as we are, Homer will be read as its truest interpreter.

Speaking on behalf of my fellow Christian men who watched and loved this movie, as well as myself, I must admit that we walk a very fine line. It is one thing to admit that violence can be necessary and unavoidable in the service of a good cause, but it is quite another to enjoy the violence itself. While watching the movie, it can be hard to distinguish the two. Am I reaping enjoyment and excitement from the knowledge that these brave men are making a selfless stand against evil to protect the ones they love, or do I just think they look really cool stabbing people with spears and slicing them up with swords in front of a visually stunning background in slow-motion? I’m honestly not sure. It’s probably a mix of both, which as I said is a dangerously fine line to be walking.

I can say this for sure, if it’s acceptable to enjoy The Iliad as entertaining reading, even as a Christian, than it’s acceptable to enjoy 300 as an entertaining movie. But more than that, the striking polarization of the audience shows perfectly the dual nature of the movie’s theme, and must lead us to admit that the movie’s take on war and violence is far more complicated than its critics have given it credit for. The movie, by focusing on the style and visual aspect of the film rather than any particular moral or political message, shows us something about ourselves that the average war movie does not. Whether we like what we see or not (or whether we should like what we see) remains a matter of discussion and self-reflection. Bottom line, you’re not a bad person for enjoying the film’s beauty, but you must always remember that it is a terrible beauty. As General Lee poignantly reminded his countrymen during America’s most devastating war, “It is well that it is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it.”