Directed by Christopher Nolan — Screenplay by Christopher Nolan.
I vividly remember watching Don Chaffey’s Jason and the Argonauts when I was a kid. Images of those Ray Harryhausen practical creature effects on display just burned themselves into my memory, for whatever reason. I’ve heard stories from my mother that she and her siblings once huddled up around the television, when she was young, to watch an adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey, only to have the TV then break in the middle of it (much to their frustration). Great sword-and-sandal myths and epics just do something to us, and so I was excited to see the latest attempt at making a larger-than-life sword-and-sandal epic with my mother this weekend. The film, of course, is Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey. The first film to be filmed entirely with IMAX cameras. It’s one of the biggest films of the year; it has a star-studded cast, and it is made by one of the most popular filmmakers of my lifetime. I don’t think I could be more excited to see the film than I was. Despite all of the weight of anticipation and the challenges of the story, the film is a triumph. It both feels like something that filmmakers and studios don’t try to make anymore and like something that could only be made at this scale today. Christopher Nolan’s latest film is both unlike anything he’s ever done before, concerning genre, myth, and magic, and exactly like so many of the other films in his oeuvre, concerning structure, message, and character goals. It is a daunting and colossal challenge of a project, and a test that the popular auteur has passed with flying colors.
Although he also likely took inspiration from other epic poems, such as elements of Virgil’s Aeneid, Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey is, obviously, based on Homer’s Odyssey, the ancient Greek epic poem about the Greek king of Ithaca, Odysseus, and his decades-long journey to return home after the conclusion of the Trojan War. Nolan’s film effectively reminds us that this ancient story, a narrative filled with gods and other fantasy elements, is one of the greatest stories ever told, and, like I’m sure many will find out when they watch the film, that it is a story that every person of a certain age will have some relationship to, likely through school, study, or cultural osmosis. In case you need a reminder of the gist of the narrative, I’ll give a short plot description of the film. Christopher Nolan’s interpretation or retelling of the Homeric myth follows two narrative tracks: one on and around the island of Ithaca, whose king, Odysseus (played by Matt Damon), has been missing for decades after the Trojan War. Now, several opportunistic suitors, including the ambitious and cruel Antinous (played by Robert Pattinson), are courting Odysseus’ wife, Penelope (played by Anne Hathaway), and growing impatient, as they seek to take the throne from Odysseus’ heir, his son Telemachus (played by Tom Holland). While Telemachus and Penelope navigate growing danger at home, the other narrative track follows Odysseus himself, now lost and confused on an island that also houses the nymph Calypso (played by Charlize Theron). Here, Odysseus is trying to remember what exactly happened to him, his ship, and his men, as well as whether he even has a family to come home to at all.
You can’t talk about an almost three-hour-long Christopher Nolan film without talking about its sense of pacing and its structure. Of course, Nolan is known for his films’ bending of time, both concerning structure and actual plot mechanics. The Odyssey is structured in a way that, I think, only Christopher Nolan would have it be structured, as we constantly see scenes from the past and the present overlap again and again. It is almost as if, when something is mentioned about the past, the film brings forth that very image by recall. That sense of the structure being similar to that of a memory, or someone slowly remembering, fits with the narrative and character journey. It also helps to keep the pace, as the film essentially leapfrogs over the calculations or downtime between events at sea to recall the most important parts of the journey. This is how memory works, of course, and since the odyssey itself is presented as someone trying to remember what happened, it makes total sense for the film to disregard the in-between and to instead emphasize the big, epic moments more likely to be rediscovered in distant memory. It gives it an almost episodic structure that I think works for the film. One of the moments that the film keeps coming back to, for the purpose of revealing another layer or recontextualizing the character’s journey, is that of the myth of the Trojan Horse. It is one of the most well-realized events of the film, as we — similar to certain scenes in Dunkirk — see soldiers hiding together and trying to get through the city walls in a way that feels and looks very realistic, and, at the same time, properly majestic. The design of the horse is genuinely fantastic, and the event working as the skeleton key to the entire film itself is ultimately extremely satisfying.
It’s also clear that Christopher Nolan and editor Jennifer Lame have an incredible understanding of pacing. The Odyssey constantly feels propulsive and like it’s building to something. Although there certainly are dialogue scenes at Ithaca that can feel a little heavy in the first act, Nolan and Lame clearly paid a lot of attention to how to make these scenes flow well without disrupting the pace. Sometimes, I will admit, it did feel as though some shots could use a little bit more room to breathe in dialogue scenes rather than jumping to another perspective with more speed than was necessary. But, again, that sense of the film feeling impatient also feels quite deliberate. Ultimately, though a film at its runtime will always feel long, Nolan and Lame ensure that the film never feels too long or unwieldy. It certainly didn’t feel like three hours had passed when the film ended, even though the events of the film — and the episodic nature thereof — do make it feel like you’ve been through the wringer, as they should. It is a loud and awe-inspiring transportive film that makes you feel the waves, the storms, and the scale of everything. Sitting with your mouth agape through multiple sequences may occur due to how dazzling the film is and how effectively Nolan accomplishes making the little episodes feel unforgettable. There are also just so many extreme wide shots that made me think of some of the greatest epics ever put on screen. Comparisons to David Lean are earned and deserved. It looks astounding, and the visual effects are almost spotless. Moreover, everything just looks so real, and a lot of it is. It’s shot in real-world locations all over the world, and Nolan and cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema sometimes showcase it with the type of grandness and believability you’d find in Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia or Peter Weir’s Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World.
Nolan reaches for an almost Guillermo del Toro-esque depiction of monstrosity, at times. Although it is very much its own thing, the cyclops sequence has hints of Pan’s Labyrinth and Francisco Goya. The Circe sequence is quietly scary with body-horror elements and eye-opening in the sense that it is so gripping and strange that you can’t avert your eyes. There are transformations and reveals that look seamless and monstrous at the same time, and magical, unreal trees move in another island’s forest, as Odysseus’ men walk into the blades of giants. Through the magical abilities and happenings, the filmmaker reaches for and accomplishes a sense of otherworldliness unlike anything Nolan has ever put on the screen. It is dazzling, extraordinary, and, more often than not, horror-adjacent. It marks and represents Christopher Nolan’s most ambitious chapter of his career, and it is yet another masterful addition to his oeuvre, which has fast cemented him as one of the most pivotal filmmakers of his era. He showcases the magic of the medium through state-of-the-art cameras as well as through techniques that he’s never used before.
There are great surprises along the way, such as the unforgettable turn from Samantha Morton, who steals the film for an extended sequence partly through her performance’s piercing and pained eyes. It excited me to see a great many things like what part James Remar played, the crucial role that Elliot Page plays and carries out excellently, and the level of emotion that Zendaya’s performance helps to inspire in the third act. There is not a single weakness in the cast, and in case you raised your eyebrow at the use of relatively contemporary American English language, rest assured that you can get used to it early on. The same can be said of the costume design that has its highs, like Helen’s clothes or Agamemnon’s helmet, but which also has strangely modern features in certain shots (e.g., in one of the scenes between Tom Holland and Jon Bernthal’s character). I have only had the privilege of seeing it once, and so I don’t know for certain if the little nitpicks that I have will eventually be ironed out or not, so allow me to mention them. I’ve already referenced how the breathlessness of the cuts between characters can feel jarring, but I will also add that two scenes containing great fast-paced action were sometimes slightly disorienting. One of these scenes is on the ocean, when a ship comes under attack, and another involves the suitors at Ithaca, Telemachus, and others. In both scenes, the camerawork could use more clarity in the action. Perhaps I was sitting too close to the screen. I’ll know for sure when I see it again.
The film is filled with the modern anxieties of its director, as he interprets the tale in a certain way and ultimately tells a story about how civilization is lost due to an abandonment of ethics and rules or laws that flow through many religions and societies. It tells the story of a man made aware of how we are our own worst enemy, as paranoia and fear of the unknown make us wicked, when we should honor the laws of courtesy and common sense that are bigger than us. He leaves us with the idea that some stories and lessons need to be carried on, regardless of the form, because we can turn a corner eventually and improve if we remember our transgressions. As such, I find the lesson of the picture to be a timely and political statement from Christopher Nolan, who thus continues to try to reason with his audience about what is right and wrong, what irreparable damage certain generations have done to the world, and what reality we leave future generations with, as he did in Tenet, Interstellar, and Oppenheimer. Thus, the central message of his work is very much in conversation with the rest of his oeuvre.
I was blown away, and uttered little words under my breath again and again that suggested as much, as I saw the film. It is a magical epic film at the highest level of production, scale, and dedication (the making of this film is likely to become the stuff of legend). Hoyte van Hoytema commits to film images that loosen your jaw, and the crew’s second-to-none and state-of-the-art level of production design is properly majestic and transportive. Performances are rich, even for characters who are relatively thinly drawn, suggesting a level of dedication that is sky-high. Whether it is the little cruel trickster qualities of Pattinson’s antagonist, the passionate fury and struggle with only breadcrumbs of hope that Hathaway brings to Penelope, or the wise eyes and complicated expressions on Matt Damon’s face that completely convince you of the character’s post-traumatic stress-adjacent arc, they’re all great. That the man who played Jason Bourne, Will Hunting, and Mark Watney would eventually play Odysseus isn’t an obvious path, but there were moments during the film when it came to me that Damon, indeed, may have found the part he was born to play. It is a colossal work that also features varied, propulsive, inventive, and surprising music from master music storyteller and composer Ludwig Göransson, who constantly gives us new notes to make us perk up our ears (his score shifts from propulsive sounds to disturbing voices and all the way to seemingly modern sounds that help to emphasize how the events depicted defy logic). Whether it’s the sound of the bowstring being plucked or the sight of otherworldly monstrosity, the film is filled to the brim with an epic magic that never lets up. I can’t recommend it enough.
10 out of 10
– Review written by Jeffrey Rex Bertelsen.
