Monday, March 19, 2007


The surprising success of “300,” box-office champ for the second week in a row, has critics gnashing their teeth and scratching their heads. The middling-reviewed film, along with much derided fare such as “Norbit” and “Wild Hogs,” could very well top the once sacrosanct $100 million mark, in defiance of critics’ recommendation to avoid all three. What’s behind this sudden revolt against opinion makers? I have a theory.


Way back during Oscar season, a week or three ago, I posit that nearly every male in America was dragged to an art film. And they were bored. Bored with Queen Elizabeth’s immovable hair, bored with deaf mutes (except the nude parts), bored with fairytales and pedophiles and African dictators and musical numbers and Prada. Some went along willingly, others only when handed the verbal equivalent of an I.O.U., as in “You get to pick the next one.”

Well, “300” showed up in theaters and the boys called in their debt. “We’re sick and tired of subtitles,” they collectively shouted, “and we’re not going to take it anymore.” Point made. Just remember, come November, we ladies will exact our revenge, and the cycle will start all over again.

Ah yes, payback’s a bitch.


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