300 offers an endless 117 minutes of absurdity

At one point in the film 300, a group of 90-percent-nude Spartans, each of whom bleeds liquid nitrogen and wields pectoral muscles that could condense a Cadillac to gelatin, fends off an attack by leprotic ninjas. They do so with the aid of a mountain of corpses and the power of freedom, which is like kryptonite to bad guys. Now you know whether you will enjoy the movie.

Plotwise, there really is little to say about 300, based on a comic of the same name. After preliminaries involving a dead messenger, a defied (and very stoned) oracle and an occasion of coitus so gratuitous it borders on rape, King Leonidas (Gerard Butler, possibly a robot) leads his band of 300 Spartan soldiers to repel the vastly superior ranks of Xerxes I (Rodrigo Santoro, definitely a robot) of Persia at Thermopylae (the "Hot Gates"). As anyone with a modicum of classical education is aware, the Spartans perish after a legendary defense.

300 is the cinematic equivalent of a Steve Vai shredfest: noisy, insipid, discordant and saturated with violence and anger at every moment. Everything in the film is too much of whatever it is. Each fight scene is too choreographed (is this carnage or ballet?), each leap too long, each scream too loud and vibrant, each monologue verbose, each facial expression too intense, each traitor too evil, each good guy too pure.

This should come as little surprise to those familiar with the work of 300's creator Frank Miller, who penned the inexplicably well-received Sin City. Miller is a one-trick pony. His characters fight and die for honor, to overcome ennui, or perhaps prove that they are, individually, the biggest bad asses. Their opponents are mean dudes. That's all. Miller's mind, apparently, has no truck with complexity.

For the dreadful 300, Miller teamed with director Zach Snyder who appears to have taken little part in what is less a cinematic adaptation of a comic than a comic on the big screen. That distinction is vital because what works on dead tree does not always translate well to the movie house. The one-liners and endless talk of selfless heroism may have some effect when rendered in pen and ink and read by fanboys and 14-year -olds, but on screen, they seem merely corny. The camerawork is also too wedded to the original format. Particularly in the early part of the film, much action occurs within an immobile frame, bringing to mind the source material.

Of course, for many, that seems to have been the point. Thanks to Sin City and Miller's emergence as a hit property, the post-Oscar hype rained down on 300 like Persian arrows on greasy Spartan manmeat.

This was to be a blockbuster action epic straight from the gore-infused imagination of a man who was suddenly the coolest thing in Hollywood since J.R.R. Tolkien. The script and visuals meticulously mirror those of the comic because, after all, since Miller is such an effing genius, why even consider messing around?

To be honest though, 300 is irredeemably, heinously awful. There is little anyone could have done. Digital glitz ensures that the colors appear faded in the sun and action is reduced to many slow-motion cut scenes. The latter malady is a disturbing one that has plagued many a film since The Matrix.

Thankfully, excellent action movies like the recent James Bond flick Casino Royale and a lesser-known French gem called Banlieue 13 suggest that there are at least a few filmmakers who still know how to quicken the pulse.

That pulse, however, is what 300 lacks most conspicuously. There is no life in these actors, their roles or their script. If there were any reason to take 300 seriously, I would be aghast at its racist undertones and warmongering allegory.

There is little question that 300 is an incitement to violence against the coming Eastern hordes. Freedom rules, particularly when the sword of liberation lies in the hands of men who are slaves to bloodlust and antiquated ideas about manhood and glory.

But the good news is, the movie is so ridiculous one need not worry about any of that. 300 is a silly, nonsensical yarn that was made by accident. The script was actually written by a high schooler for a term project, but got lost and ended up on the Warner Brothers lot. I know this to be true, for otherwise, reality would implode.