I spent two-thirds of Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey thinking I was watching Ridley Scott's Gladiator only to realize I was watching John Ford's The Searchers all the time. And it was largely this eleventh-hour realization that secured the film's favorable rating from me.
My slowness in catching onto this may have been partially caused by me also looking beyond the mark in other ways. Even if it had been fairly telegraphed in the promotional material, I was kind of hoping that Nolan's vision for the mythological epic would unleash a proper monster parade. But Nolan doesn't appear to want to emulate Demond Davis' Clash of the Titans any more than he did with Tim Burton's Batman in his "Dark Knight" trilogy.
Witches like Circe and Calypso would never be mistaken for anything adjacent to Michelle Pfieffer in Stardust. Even something like "Pirates of the Caribbean" or "Lord of the Rings" is further on the operatic scale than this movie is interested in. Exactly how a person flips through anything Greek mythology and doesn't decide that designing Scylla is their highest priority is beyond me. The thought persisted in me enough that I would be remiss to not give it some mention here.
But perhaps it's not my place to judge Mr. Nolan. And it's also not as though the movie doesn't capture grandeur in other ways. Both the movie's many natural locations and formidable set creations create a tactile experience for the viewer, a reminder that the same mad fire that spawned Ben-Hur hasn't been extinguished in modern Hollywood.
The Odysseus in my head growing up always somehow had a deeper timbre than Matt Damon, but that softer affect also goes a long way to open the door for all the ache of a man cast adrift, both by the elements and his own self-generating lies. In the end, Damon's biggest problem is being flanked on all sides by players who are only so eager to match him. There are simply too many to name.
Anne Hathaway is as regal as ever as Queen Penelope. Her icefire demeanor does the most to convince the viewer we have entered ancient times. Zendaya's Athena, meanwhile, simply transcends time. Tom Holland is absolutely recognizable as Telemachus, and he repays that goodwill by making Odysseus' son a pillar against the likes of Antinous, the vulture brought to life by Robert Pattinson. And I've never thought John Leguizamo as an "old" actor, but the age and weariness with which he endows the faithful Eumaeus is to be commended.
I'll admit I'm more conversational on The Odyssey through its adaptations and homages than from the original Homer text. So I couldn't list with confidence all of the changes or extrapolations Nolan is making here. I don't remember, for example, whether or not Odysseus had a dog in the original poem. (I also don't know whether Nolan found the right way to narrativize every square inch of the story. I was not satisfied with the lack of explanation over why the Cyclops did not choose to just eat the little sausages tottering around in his cave, or at least put them in like a basket or something.)
But the movie's attempts to lace the narrative with human hooks gives the adventure some necessary tethers. This story is a homecoming for someone who does not imagine he deserves one--and is occasionally told as much as well. There's a neat moment when the master shows his cards in the third act, when Nolan is finally willing to admit why he not only chose to make this film, but why he thought that making this film could possibly heal the world.
It's a neat trick to see the timeline folding over itself, to allow the present to wash itself in the waters of history, mythology. To emerge feeling cleansed and forgiven, and even to leave the waters likewise purified. This is something that most movies have wanted to do, and even something many movies have been rebuked for daring to do. "Shut up with the sermonizing and just tell the dang story!"
But Nolan has long been permitted a longer rope than most other filmmakers in the current landscape. Maybe from his mouth, people will finally pay attention.
--The Profesor
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