Review: The Odyssey

As I write these words, it is 5:15 in the morning, and I’m just getting out of a 1:50 screening of Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey. It will, of course, be much later in the day when I actually post the finished review, but the current hour seems relevant to the discussion at hand because the theater was absolutely packed, and my fellow viewers remained enthusiastic and animated as they spilled out into the dew-drenched streets to greet the sunrise. That speaks volumes about how hotly anticipated this film was.

And why shouldn’t it be? This is, after all, the quintessential blockbuster, an old school cinematic spectacle akin to Ben-Hur, Lawrence of Arabia, or Gone with the Wind. The IMAX imagery perfectly complements the classical source material, capturing moments both epic (the solitude of a sprawling, debris-littered beach; the foreboding vastness of a raging, wine dark sea; the horrifying carnage of an “impenetrable” city set ablaze) and intimate (a soldier’s remorse, a wife’s grief, a wronged mother’s righteous fury) in equally breathtaking detail. Beyond the impressive visuals, however, it is the themes that truly resonate, echoing through centuries and continuing an oral tradition that transcends time and space—a quality reflected by the story’s nonlinear narrative structure. Nolan’s interpretation of Homer’s text is a tragic tale of transgression and atonement; the great deception that ended the Trojan War condemned the Achaeans to grim, cruel fates befitting their blatant disregard for sacred law. In this context, Odysseus’ arduous voyage home becomes a prolonged act of penance—a self-imposed exile that he hopes will wash away the profane blood tarnishing his soul. Violence, unfortunately, awaits him on his native shores; the redemption that he seeks will require our hero to confront the twisted manifestation of his own guilt.

I’ve been a fan of Greek mythology since I was in elementary school. The Odyssey is exactly what I imagined when I read the original poem as a boy and dreamed of adapting it myself—and I can’t even be upset that Nolan (like Guillermo del Toro, who plucked his version of Frankenstein directly out of my brain) beat me to the punch. Gorgeously photographed by Hoyte van Hoytema, immaculately edited by Jennifer Lame, and sublimely scored by Ludwig Göransson, it epitomizes everything “the movies” are supposed to be. Helen’s face launched a thousand ships; this is the picture that will inspire a thousand careers in Hollywood. The future looks bright!