It’s a Macau variety show gone wrong. It’s a Monty Python sketch that’s devolved into a commercial. No, actually, it’s Meet the Spartans! In other words, it is a spoof of the movie and the graphic novel 300, about the mythic 300 Spartan warriors who stood up to defend ancient Greece against an invading Persian army.

The generous viewer in me wants to make note of the movie’s occasionally witty lines, social commentary, and subversion of exactly the kind of canned cinematic moments I have grown tired of. Case in point: when Spartan warrior Leonidas (Diedrich Bader) seeks the advice of Sparta’s decrepit sages, he brings them medicated skin creams in lieu of offerings and consults a holy oracle who turns out to be an insult-dispensing sitcom character.

But a few well-placed funny moments don’t make a movie. The cultural mockery snowballs into 84 minutes of product placement, crude impersonations of American TV personalities and game shows, and homoerotic jokes dressed in leather underwear. All this makes the generous viewer in me lose out to one who is offended by the notion of paying to see a plotless collage of stale and hypocritical humour, not to mention offensive portrayals of women.

Some might say that true appreciation of Meet the Spartans requires an expansive knowledge of American movies and pop culture. A pivotal battle scene, for instance, features Xerxes (Ken Davitian) impersonating the host of game show Deal or No Deal. And yet I must ask: does knowing that Britney Spears was recently photographed panty-less really make it possible to appreciate seeing the genitalia of three separate women flashed onto the big screen (albeit the images are scrambled), as a running joke? Or how about the close up shot of a “fat ass” that’s supposed to stand in for that of stick-skinny Tyra Banks?

Meet the Spartans is a mega-commercial for brands ranging from Dentine Ice gum to Krispy Kreme doughnuts. The mediocre acting is to be expected from a movie that prides itself on portraying actors making fools of themselves, and a final costumed, cast-wide song and dance number ensures that the level of comedy does not rise far above that of cruise ship entertainment.

One final piece of advice: stay until the end of the credits if you do enter Sparta. Then, at least, you’ll get to see a bad George W Bush impersonator thrown into an evil pit of doom.

Marissa Brodney