NOTE: this article was co-written with François Peneaud

What should gay fans of historical drama expect from the upcoming action-adventure epic 300 based on Frank Miller's graphic novel of the same name? The film, which opens on March 9, recounts the 480 B.C. Battle of Thermopylae, where 300 Greek warriors from Sparta managed to delay the 60,000-strong Persian invading army. Historically, the Spartan army was made up in part by soldiers bound romantically to other soldiers fighting on the same battlefield.

Judging from clips and stills released from 300, filmgoers can expect an extremely faithful reworking of Miller's novel. Unfortunately, hot, shirtless, muscle-bound actors aside, that isn't likely to be a good thing. As in many other historic films — especially those about the ancient world or heroic warriors — gay history has been erased from 300 and replaced with negative stereotypes. From Troy to Spartacus to Ben Hur, queer history is usually downplayed and has often gone missing entirely.

One of the few notable exceptions is Oliver Stone's Alexander, which actually did reflect the romantic relationship between Alexander (Colin Farrell) and Hephaistion (Jared Leto). At least, it reflected it accurately in the theatrical release. After the film bombed at the U.S. box office — a situation blamed in part on the film's frank portrayal of Alexander's bisexuality — Stone released a director's cut deleting some of the film's homosexuality. (Stone released yet a third version of the movie restoring much of that on Feb. 27.)

Other historical epics haven't even had the chance to backtrack on homosexuality. In the 2004 film Troy, starring Brad Pitt, Achilles (Pitt) and Patroclus (Garrett Hedlund) were demoted from lovers to mere cousins. No doubt warriors usually become mad with grief every time one of their cousins is killed, as Achilles did when Patroclus was slain by the Trojan warrior Hector (Eric Bana).

It seems that for Hollywood, being gay and being a warrior are still antithetical. Call it a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Don't Film" policy.

The Man Behind 300

Just who is Frank Miller? He is one of the best-known authors in contemporary graphic novels, and rightfully so. Rejuvenating the character of Daredevil in the early '80s for Marvel, he also created Elektra — a female assassin who had a tumultuous love affair with the blind superhero — in comics that bore Miller's strong sense of storytelling.

In 1986, Miller created Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, the dystopian tale of a Batman who, 20 years in the future, battles a Joker who looks like an aged queen. Behaving like one, he calls his old adversary "darling" and inquires whether Robin has started shaving yet. Thus, Miller was already playing on the clichéd sexual interpretation of Batman as a pedophile, while giving a not very subtle explanation of the Joker's fascination with the man in the flying rodent costume.

In 1990, Miller wrote the miniseries Give Me Liberty for artist Dave Gibbons. The story is set in a near future where the United States has split along political lines. The main character, a young black female soldier, fights against various menaces, among them gay white supremacists. No other gay character is present in the story. Political satire and over-the-top imagery are certainly ingredients of this series, but using gay Nazis is neither clever nor new.

In 1991, the first Sin City was published. This black-and-white, noir series blended violence and strong visuals successfully — at least for Miller's goals. One of the problems in Sin City is the presence of yet more deadly females, preferably lesbian prostitutes in S/M gear — not exactly a gay-positive spin.

Miller did use his talents in a more gay-friendly way in 1988. "RoboHomophobe" is Miller's contribution to A.A.R.G.H.! (Artists Against Rampant Government Homophobia), a magazine anthology edited by Alan Moore during the fight against the British anti-gay Clause 28. Largely unknown even to Miller fans, the three-page strip portrays a gay-basher transformed into a quadriplegic after a car accident.

The trauma turns the homophobe gay, and he is then transformed into a homophobic version of Robocop with a head that looks like a giant penis. Miller's heart is in the right place, but using such blundering humor simply seems immature.

"RoboHomophobe" notwithstanding, Miller's commercial work either leaves out positive representations of gay characters or includes negative gay characters and coded representations of homosexuality — for example, plenty of fey characteristics — that make villains that much more sinister.

300 Lost Opportunities To Do Something Different

300 is an unusual comic book in more ways than one. It is told entirely in double-page spreads with a limited but highly effective use of panels. The art is bold, employing strong silhouettes and complementary decorative details. Lynn Varley's painted colors are beautiful, as they provide depth and weight to Miller's deceptively simple lines. Visually, 300 is a complete success. Psychologically and historically, that's another matter.

Several things are cause for concern in the graphic novel and, if included faithfully, the movie.

The first is the way the Persian king Xerxes is portrayed in the graphic novel. Continuing a shameful tradition of Persians as perverts, Miller gives us a king who's all piercings and useless fashion accessories, his head and faced shaved, combining to create an air of effeminacy. In comparison, Leonidas is hypermasculine and appears to be stereotypically straight, with broad shoulders and a full beard and mustache. Except for a predator's tooth strung on a leather thong around his neck, no jewelry adorns his physique, only weapons and a few pieces of armor.

As seen in this photo taken from 300 promotional materials, Xerxes (Rodrigo Santoro) is a jewel-clad effete sporting what appear to be manicured nails and plucked eyebrows. His hands, adorned with gold rings on every finger, lie suggestively on the shoulders of King Leonidas (Gerard Butler), a hirsute, rough-hewn man who looks every bit the opposite of Xerxes.

It is hard to envision how Xerxes could even fight, being so encased in gold bracelets, gold chains and gold collars. No, the real fighting is to be left to men like King Leonidas. Without knowing the first thing about 300, it would be easy to guess who played the hero and who played the villain based on this photo alone.

The few known images of the real King Xerxes show a man with little or no jewelry, a full head of hair and a beard and mustache to match King Leonidas'. This Xerxes looks quite capable of defending himself and isn't the least bit effeminate.

Of course, whiffs of effeminacy in villains are nothing new in Hollywood films. Think of the Peter Lorre character in The Maltese Falcon , for example, or the villains in Rope, Diamonds Are Forever, In Cold Blood and The Passion of the Christ, to name only a few. Xerxes is just another in that shameful line of effete villains.

The second problematic issue in the graphic novel version of 300 occurs in the first part of the story. A Persian envoy comes to Sparta to talk to the king, telling him that a simple token of submission from the Spartans to the Persian king would solve the matter. But Leonidas answers that the problem is that the Athenians have already refused, and he can't do less than "those boy-lovers." According to a recent review in Variety, that line is also in the film.

During the original miniseries, a reader took Miller to task for that remark, and the author gave a rather strange answer: "Being a warrior class, the Spartans almost certainly did practice homosexuality. There's also evidence they tended to lie about it. It's not a big leap to postulate that they ridiculed their hedonistic Athenian rivals for something they themselves did. 'Hypocrisy' is, after all, a word we got from the Greek."

Miller is correct in that Spartan society was a militaristic one. Every free male citizen was considered a soldier for life (the exception being the older men who had been elected to political seats), with plots of land given to him to be cultivated by serfs. It is well-known that the Spartans practiced homosexuality (or more precisely, pederasty) as an educational institution. Indeed, the cohesion of the army depended on the bond between lovers. Thus, like the Athenians, Spartans can also be called "boy-lovers."

That being said, the word "boy" must be considered a generic term. Ancient texts state that Spartan soldiers/lovers were dispersed throughout the battlefield, as opposed to side-by-side in the way of other cities, so these "boys" on the battlefield had to be old enough to fight and defend themselves. The relationships were therefore between two (young or not so young) men, with some age gap between the two. "Youth-loving" would probably be a more correct term, as well as a less charged one for modern readers.

What's Included and What Isn't

The issue isn't really that King Leonidas uses "boy-loving" as an insult toward the Greeks. This is a work of fiction, after all (although Miller claims it is historical fiction). It is not even that Miller didn't include any indication of Spartan same-sex practices amongst the soldiers fighting at Thermopylae. This is an action-adventure comic and movie aimed at young straight men, meant to pile up book sales and box-office cash by piling up dead bodies as graphically and artistically as possible. That is an audience not likely shell out $9 to see even a mere implication of same-sex love.

The real issue is that Miller (and apparently Hollywood, in adapting his work) did include homosexuality, but negatively. If neither the effeminacy of Xerxes nor the insult were included, or if by some miracle they were balanced out with the other half of the historical equation, gay viewers would have less reason to feel insulted by yet again more historical inaccuracies.

There is one small reason to hope for something better from 300. Director Zack Snyder added a gay character to his remake of Dawn of the Dead, although that character's most interesting scene wound up on the cutting room floor. Perhaps Snyder will do something to counteract Miller's less than gay-friendly story line. If not, gay viewers can expect yet another historical epic that flunks the accuracy test.

Joe Palmer discovered spandex comics and mythology (at the age of 9) in 1967. This double fascination inspired him to draw and eventually led him to Chicago's Art Institute, where he graduated with a B.F.A. HIV-positive since 1996, Palmer currently divides his time between running Gayleague.com, a website for LGBT comic fans, art, writing, and promoting art-making opportunities for the HIV-positive community.

François Peneaud is a teacher, comics critic and occasional translator who lives in the southwest of France with his partner. He runs the Gaycomicslist.free.fr site, and next spring will see his first published stories in the Best Date Ever anthology from Alyson and in a collection of the Tim Fish-edited Young Bottoms in Love webcomics.

With thanks to Michael Jensen and his uncanny rewriting sixth sense.