Ben Peek (benpeek) wrote,
Ben Peek

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C and I are walking back to the car.

"That was pretty fucking bad," I say. "I wonder if I can get my money back?"

"You always say that." He parked the car at the far end of the car park and so we are walking through the empty lot, the dark around us, and everything still. A trolley emerges before us. C says, "I thought it was okay."

"You thought it was good?"

"I didn't say that."

The trolley is kicked over, stomped in on one the side.

"For example," C says, "I would have liked it if Leonidas hadn't sounded Scottish."

"There was a bit of Sean Connery in him, wasn't there?" I step up on the trolley. "I would have liked to have seen some Greek actors."

"You're so picky. I suppose you would have liked some historical accuracy as well?"

"Would that have been too much?" I step down. C's car is black, and I can make out as a shadow at the end of the lot, surrounded by tiny trees. "It's not hard to do a bit of research. Read a couple of books for fuck sakes. Check the wikipedia. The director read the comic--he's clearly semi literate."

"The anti gay stuff was in the comic." C kicks a dented can. "Yet, it's totally gay. I mean, remove that one line about boy lovers, and the film is totally pro-gay, just without any fucking. Which is a shame."

"I thought Xerex's and Leonidas were going to get it on at one stage."

"Me too."

Silence. The car draws closer.

"It was the racism that really bothered me, though," I say. "I mean, 'Asian Horde'. Is term really appropriate in this day and age? A bunch of white guys standing against the Asian Horde. That just didn't sit well with me."

"That's just cause you have a thing for Asian girls."

"They're all so cute."

"I'm just saying it influences you."

We are at the car. I lean on the top as C walks around to the driver's side, pulling out his keys. "So, you didn't mind the Asian Horde part?"

"No, it bothered me. But it bothered me because at the start of the film, the Spartans are throwing their deformed and small, weak children, off fucking cliffs, and that's presented in a positive light. Hardcore, but positive. The Persian's, though, they nail people to trees, and employ freaks and shit--but they're the fucking villains that need to be drove off. They're the Asian Horde, as it's said. Whereas the Spartans are beautiful and heroic, even as they chuck kids off cliffs."

"It's like a Nazi wet dream."

"Well, if they'd been blond." C opens the door, gets in, unlocks my side. As I get in, he says, "In many ways, Xerex's was the more admirable figure."

"This is cause he liked the freaks, yeah?"

"Totally. See, in Xerex's world, a girl with no arms and legs, she's still a sexual object when she's naked. Okay, she's reduced to a sexual object, and you can say there's a whole nasty kind of misogyny there--but she wasn't fucking thrown off a cliff, you know? She lived and had a semi-fulfilling life as a sex object."

"And the man born with fucking blades attached to his arms, he was like an executioner."

C starts the car. "See, in Xerxes' world, everyone has their chance to succeed."

"I think you're missing two things here, though. Firstly, you're missing the freedom that Spartans fought for--"

He laughs.

"--And secondly, you liked it."

"It was kinda cool," he says, stopping at a set of lights. "It was like a video game, where every new fight is a new level of threat."


I let the silence continue.

C looks at me. The lights are still red. He looks at them. Then to me. He says, "What?"

"You," I say, intently faux seriously, "are what's wrong with America."
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