The Odyssey Review

Power, Shame, and the Collapse of Civilization

By: Marc Kozak

The Odyssey

Power, Shame, and the Collapse of Civilization

By: Marc Kozak

Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey is every bit as awe-inspiring as you’d hope a cinematic adaptation of Homer’s timeless epic would be, a hype-affirming triumph of large-scale moviemaking and a technical accomplishment only possible due to some of the world’s best craftspeople doing career-defining work. It vividly brings to life all the best pieces of one of our oldest and most revered stories — the Trojan Horse, the Sirens, a cyclops, gods and witches, a titanic battle whose legends have survived for centuries — it’s all here, captured on glorious IMAX 70mm film. Given the enormous pre-release hype and the all-encompassing torrent of social media narratives that have flowed unabated since the movie was first announced in December of 2024, it’s both refreshing and a relief that Nolan has landed the plane so confidently. Oh, we (or me) of little faith. Nolan’s The Odyssey immediately enters the pantheon of its genre; it’s a historical epic whose praises will be sung countless years after we’re all gone.

From a technical perspective, you would expect nothing less than excellence from Nolan, one of only a small handful of filmmakers who consistently deliver capital ‘B’, Big-screen spectacles with a scale that can barely be captured by even the largest of cameras. But what makes The Odyssey transcend Nolan’s already significant body of work is how cleverly and effectively he recontextualizes an ancient story for the present day. The source material was a spectacular adventure story, yes, but it’s also one that has always had a strong thematic core. Perhaps more impressive than all the jaw-dropping visuals (of which there are many) is the way that Nolan thoughtfully reworks the themes and narrative threads of an mythic story to create a modern fable with real emotional resonance, one that reminds and warns us how quickly our society can collapse when empathy is seen as a weakness, when strength is seen as collecting power at all costs.

Perhaps more significantly, this is a movie about shame — specifically the kind of shame that our nation’s leaders (should) feel when they repeatedly break the rules of society in order to advance their own greed. Odysseus (Matt Damon) is a loyal general of Agamemnon, the kind of ruler who sacrificed his own daughter to the gods in order for his ships to sail faster. The Trojan War is famously believed to have been started over the kidnapping of Helen, the wife of Agamemnon’s brother, but the exasperated Odysseus tells his wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway) that he knows he’s being ordered to rot on a beach far from home for years simply so his superiors can control the trade routes. There is no honor in this battle — many will die under his command, and for what?

Damon is just the right man to portray this sort of weariness, an actor who has gone through the gauntlet of multiple Hollywood franchises and public-facing dramas. His face is still strong and handsome, but there are hard-earned creases in it, a tiredness that speaks to a lifetime of intense experience. You can tell just from his demeanor that his Odysseus is the strong, fair, and wise, the kind of man who is clever enough to conceive of the idea of the Trojan Horse, the effective trick that finally allows Agamemnon’s armies to breach the gates of Troy and win the war. But you can also easily sense that Damon’s Odysseus is perpetually haunted the weight of lives that were lost because of his clever schemes. Sinon (Elliot Page), a son of a poor shepherd who was only sent to war to spare the heir of a rich master, is killed in order to sell the deception of the Trojan Horse, a lie that Odysseus determined would be for the good of the battle. It’s the first of many deaths that begin to haunt Odysseus, the early stages of a growing shame due to his repeated violations of “Zeus’ Law,” in which he acts not out of hospitality or kindness, but out of perceived necessity or the willingness to advance the desires of his rulers.

" Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey immediately enters the pantheon of its genre; it’s a historical epic whose praises will be sung countless years after we’re all gone. "

These violations don’t stop once the war is over. In his desperation to get home, Odysseus continually earns the rage of not only his men, but the gods themselves. On the first stop for supplies during his long and fateful journey, his men stumble upon a cave populated by a terrifying cyclops, a horrifying monstrosity that feeds on men and sheep alike. It’s a scene more terrifying than anything you’ll see in a horror movie this year, the creature’s screams exquisitely manufactured to serve as nightmare fuel. But even this monster is nothing more than a child, scared and weeping in a corner, the son of Poseidon himself, another victim of Odysseus’ quest. Poseidon takes his revenge by sending Odysseus and his crew wildly off course, putting them on a direct collision course with the more monstrous elements of this fantasy world.

This includes an all-too-brief run-in with the famous and mysterious Sirens, and a trip to a different island inhabited by the goddess witch Circe (Samantha Morton), a woman who has had more than enough of the endless appetites of men. Her grotesque transformation ritual is a highly effective piece of body horror and another harrowing reminder that these gods are not to be trifled with. Nolan’s depiction of the gods as cosmically powerful and terrible beings is the most thrilling part of the movie — it’s the kind of breathless filmmaking magic that Nolan does best, making it a shame that he seems almost hesitant to spend too much time on them, preferring to muck about in the dirt with the plain ol’ regular humans.

Odysseus is frequently visited by a godly intermediary of sorts, Athena (Zendaya), the goddess of wisdom. She becomes increasingly helpless in her role as Odysseus’ protector due to Odysseus’ continued stubbornness and destructiveness. She asks him why he won’t simply put their lives in the hands of the gods, but Odysseus refuses, claiming responsibility for the lives of his men even as his own choices continue to endanger everyone around him, gods and humans alike. Athena can only look on with sadness as Odysseus’ crew gets smaller and smaller, his ship eventually destroyed and his unconscious body washed up on a beach, found and nursed back to health by the nymph Calypso (Charlize Theron), who keeps him there for seven years, unable to remember that he had a family to get back to.

Hoyte van Hoytema’s cinematography keeps things grounded in a basic realism, despite the appearances of magical creatures and ship-devouring whirlpools. There are gorgeous wide shots of huge battle scenes on long, barren beaches (calling to mind similar settings in Dunkirk), using every single one of the reported 5,000 extras to produce scenes of carnage and mayhem on a scale that simply doesn’t happen anymore. Ludwig Göransson’s score often appears to be hiding until it pops up to punctuate big moments with classical instruments, violent percussion, and even electronic flourishes, slowly creeping in around the edges as Odysseus’ journey grows more and more perilous.

" What makes The Odyssey transcend Nolan’s already significant body of work is how cleverly and effectively he recontextualizes an ancient story for the present day.  "

Meanwhile, back at home, Penelope and Odysseus’ son Telemachus (Tom Holland) have spent all of this time doing their best to fend off the attentions of dozens of suitors and hangers-on who seek to marry Penelope and claim Ithaca for themselves. The boldest suitor, Antinous (Robert Pattinson), is the wealthy heir that avoided going to war when Odysseus first left home, clinging to the lie that the only reason he stayed behind was to keep an eye on Odysseus’ family. He and the other suitors are yet another example of the kind of shamelessness and cruelty that has been freshly set loose in the world, further perversions of Zeus’ Law, a group of callous parasites who wouldn’t hesitate to kick the nearest beggar, even given the small chance that he might be a god in disguise.

There are so many characters, timelines, and locations in The Odyssey, a complication that might frustrate other directors but one that sets itself up perfectly for the kind of non-linear approach that has historically interested Nolan. Much of the story springs from Damon’s expository narration as Odysseus finally starts to remember his life after years spent with Calypso, an event that occurs near the end of the overall story’s timeline. The Battle of Troy, which technically takes place before anything happens in The Odyssey, is one of the last things to happen in the movie. Still, not once do you ever feel lost — each event neatly fades into the next within the narrative, all leading up to Odysseus’ final showdown with the suitors.

Even though the events of the ending are never in doubt, it still hits with an emotional punch, including a tremendous 1-2-3 wallop as Odysseus is finally recognized in quick succession by his old dog (an event that may have permanently scarred something in my heart), his old maid, and finally his wife. If there was any major complaint to be had with the entire movie, it would be the continued clumsiness with which Nolan handles hand-to-hand fighting scenes — something that he has not gotten better at since his Batman trilogy. Odysseus mows down suitors in a scene that should induce fist-pumping jubilation, but thanks to the tired usage of quick edits and shaky cam, it doesn’t come off as well as you might hope.

Still, it’s a minor complaint. Others may have more issues with Nolan’s sparse treatment of the gods, or his tinkering with a narrative and characters — a capital offense to the more sensitive internet scholars and historians. This isn’t a documentary or even an attempt at historical realism; this is Nolan’s personal interpretation, brought to life with a nigh-unlimited budget and performed by some of the world’s best actors, told through the lens of one of Nolan’s biggest career interests — how mankind actively contributes to the decline of civilization by breaking down the very rules it created to impose some kind of order on the world. It’s an interpretation with surprising urgency, a fresh take worthy of imposing on a centuries-old story, and one with a message that we would do well to heed: if the world burns, it’s not because of the gods — it’s because of us.