300. A Persian army of 2 million monsters, fiends, savages, mercenaries, and slaves against a Spartan army of only 300 warriors. It's the kind of story that would draw a crowd even if it was being told by a twelve year old with a lisp. Thankfully, Zack Snyder brought more to the theater than a blithering pre-teen to regale us with his story of ancient terrors and legendary heroics.

The foundation of this film is much like the cities of old, each era built on the stones of its predecessors. The bedrock of this story is the factual Battle of Thermopylae. Strip away the hyperbole and exaggeration and you still have a story about freemen who gave their lives to defend their countrymen from slavery and tyranny. A story that inspired centuries worth of legend and in the process, built a new foundation on the bedrock of historical fact.

Fast forward to the year 1962. Director Rudolph Maté builds a new foundation on ages of storytelling when he brings the story of The 300 Spartans to the silver screen for the first time. It was one of the last sword and sandal movies and arguably one of the best. Critics believe that at the very least, it was an historically accurate retelling of the ancient tale.

Critics weren't the only ones watching. A young Frank Miller (who was only 5 years old at the time) was there to watch the movie, if not in the theater than certainly at least on television, over and over. His fascination with the story finally manifests itself in yet another foundational story built on top of the others. In 1998, Frank Miller published the first isue of 300 with Dark Horse Comics. And in 1999, Miller won three Eisner Awards for his incredible vision and creative accomplishment in comic book form.

It was this foundation that Zack Snyder found to be worthy of his own monument to legendary heroics. Inspired by Miller's blending of ancient and modern cultures, Snyder sets out to tell the story of 300 yet again. And this time the storyteller is committed to remaining as faithful to the version before him as well as the original. The result is something stunning and spectacular.

My very first impression of the film was awe. The beauty of the pictures made my jaw drop. A quick reminder that filmmaking is an art form. A fact lost on so many neo-realistic imitators of our day that merely capture performances on their film like some sort of snapshot in a snowglobe to be shaken only breifly for the audience's amusement and the studio's bank account. And then quicly forgotten like most of life's less significant events. The images created by Snyder are not the kind of images one forgets easily.

Still with me are images of wicked Persian arrowheads poised to deliver pain and death, misshapened creatures more monster than men bearing sword and axe, muscled bodies shaped by a culture that reveres triumphs over great adversity, rocky crags as rough as the people that inhabit them, a violent sea that eats giant ships, gristle, blood and bone smashing into steel and bronze. Snyder paints a masterpiece on top of his film using all of the digital alchemy at his disposal. It's as if he is saying to all of the other filmmakers, "If only you had greater vision. If only..."

Over and above Snyder's impressive visual accomplishment stands an even greater feat of storytelling through film. Had he failed at this, the movie would not be worth watching even if the visual effects were more impactful ten times over. Zack Snyder cemented his story on the stones of legend before him by convincing us that a Spartan could easily slay three opponents as quickly as his enemy could attack a single man. Slow motion photography follows the path of Leonidas and his warriors as they convincingly cut their way through a sea of Persians.

The battle choreography seems to be inspired by NFL Films, perhaps following someone like Eric Dickerson, smashing and weaving his way through a pile of opponents who showed up that day with only one goal in mind: stop that man. You could almost hear John Facenda wax poetic as one Persian after another crumbles under the sword of the Spartan. Halting instantly on the end of a Spartan spear. Trampled under the feet of professional soldiers who view an enemy army of millions more as an opportunity rather than a threat.

As great as this film is, it's certainly not perfect. And I doubt seriously that it will be winning an academy award for best picture or best director. It's kind of a shame. But not really the Academy's fault. It's just that like Frank Miler, Snyder seems to be at his best when he is creating the grit of the story and the adrenaline of the action. But when anyone has to give a speech that should inspire and move one's heart, Snyder's film falls as flat as the sandals it's standing on. Leonidas addresses his troops. Queen Gorgo pleads with the council for help. Dillos rallies the troops. Yawn. With one exception: Vincent Regan as Captain Artemis. When he tells his fellow warriors about his one regret, it hits the audience harder than listening to Harry Chapin's The Cats in the Cradle on Father's Day.

Maybe it sounds like a nitpick, as if I'm working too hard to find something wrong. If I wanted to do that, I would complain that the Persians appear to be made out of Jell-o by the way they splatter all over the place when they are struck by a sword or spear. Or that the extreme close-ups of Leonidas' face did more to prove that the scratch on his cheek was only painted on than it helped to capture the emotion of the moment. That's nitpicking.

Stories like this have a long tradition of using heroics and sacrifice as a reminder of our more noble virtues. Think Shakespeare and Henry V...

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

And other movies come to mind as well. Kirk Douglas' rousing speech to his fellow slaves in Spartacus and their willingness to protect him with their lives. Or Merlin's (Nicol Williamson's) rebuff of Arthur and his men in the cult classic, Excalibur. It seems a shame that a movie as great as Zack Snyder's 300 might be remembered more for it's amazing visual treatment of battle than for its portrayal of the heart and character of those heroes that made the battle worthy of legend. But perhaps this is a foundation for a storyteller to build on.