Ehren Reviews A Movie

It’s not often that I take the time to jot down my movie reviews. After all, I think that UHF and Trading Places rank among the greatest movies in history. However, after seeing “300” last weekend, I’d feel guilty if I didn’t take some time lashing out at pretty much the biggest two hour waste of life ever. Seriously, if you’re looking for a more constructive way to spend your evening, I’d suggest freebasing Drano.

If you haven’t sat through this piece of shit, don’t worry about me giving away plot details. Because this film had less development and character depth than “See Spot Run.” But that’s not why I hated it. Generally, if a movie has some cool fight and explosions, scenes I can hang. It’s not like Lethal Weapon 3 had any particularly startling twists or intellectual value. It was just fun to watch Mel Gibson vent his rage on the Chinese rather than the Jews for once.

Of course, this movie does have some redeeming value. I mean, if you’re looking for the worst 2 hour Sean Connery impression ever done, this is your movie. Also, the lead seemed to believe that he would somehow be more believable if he showed every tooth in his face each time he delivered a line. At this point, I’m just going to assume that Gerard Butler suffered some massive head trauma. Because otherwise, there’s really no excuse. I’ve seen less blatant over-acting in Jim Carrey out-takes.

Lena Headley, as the female lead, gets the award for worst half-assed accent in a film ever. If you got a bunch of deaf-mutes together, one of them would have been able to fake a British accent more believably than her. She’s not even TRYING. Usually she gives up on it halfway through each sentence. It would have better if she just carried around a cup of tea and spoke like a kid from the Deep South. Granted, I don’t understand the need to speak like a Brit anyway given that everyone in the film is supposed to be Greek. But once again, I’m assuming that some degree of thought went into this movie.

It was by pure accident that I struck on the real mind behind 300. My girlfriend asked, “Hey, wasn’t this done by the same person who did ‘Sin City’? What’s his name? Arthur Miller?”

I was about to correct her and point out that Frank Miller had written the Graphic Novels Sin City and 300. Arthur Miller (in order of important life accomplishments) banged Marilyn Monroe and wrote the “The Crucible.” Then I realized, “Is it really so outrageous that Arthur Miller directed this steaming pile of donkey shit?" Granted, he died in 2005. But given the complete lack of coherency this film had, it’s completely plausible that they had him exhumed and interpreted through a gypsy rolling bones in a tent somewhere.

“Arthur Miller commands that all dialogue will take place on cliffs, in front of sunsets.”

“Arthur Miller is displeased at the amount of man ass that appears thus far. He decries that there will be 500% MORE man ass!”

“All women will have painfully-erect, 6” nipples. Think ‘fully-aroused Whoopi Goldberg drowning in ice-water.’”

“Arthur Miller instructs that flamboyant homosexuality will increase by 2,000%. He proclaims that he wants a flick that makes ‘The Birdcage” seem subdued.”

“Ummm…are you sure that he said that? I mean, maybe it would be better if--”

“ARTHUR MILLER HAS SPOKEN!”

I can just see them carrying the bones of Arthur Miller around the lot at Universal, Arc of the covenant style: a litter borne shoulder height by eight, half-clothed servants. Producers, d girls, and agents all kneeling in the street as it passes on its way to a power lunch at Spago with Dick Wolf while a vacant-looking blonde tags along beside it, powdering her nose.

In summation, if 300 was directed by a year-dead corpse and acted out by a man with a head wound, it would have been a truly inspirational film. Not good one, understand, but still uplifting. Like watching handicapped people struggle against God’s twisted plan at the Special Olympics. Unfortunately, I learned, the film was directed by Zack Snyder who, despite my fervent wishes through the course of the film, stubbornly refuses to die. Like-wise, there is no proof that Gerard Butler is actually functionally-retarded. This doesn’t mean that he isn’t. Just that there’s no proof of such.

All in all, I give 300 a “6”…on a scale of 1-1,000,000,000,000: watchable only by those who’ve been repeatedly bludgeoned in the head with a pipe so often, they no longer realize that they’re speaking like a retarded Sean Connery.