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.