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Spoilers follow for The Odyssey.
Grab your oars and set sail, cinema fans, because The Odyssey is now in theaters. The latest entry from legendary filmmaker Christopher Nolan adapts quite literally one of the oldest stories in recorded history, that being the epic poem attributed to Homer. The decade-long journey of Odysseus (Matt Damon), veteran and hero of the Trojan War, as he desperately tries to get back to his home island of Ithaca is a tale that has influenced countless storytellers over thousands of years, so it’s only appropriate for one of our most celebrated directors to take a crack at it.
At least going by critics, The Odyssey looks to be another big win for Nolan. The film is pulling in spectacular reviews, including an 8/10 from IGN’s Scott Collura, who described the film as a “must-watch cinematic experience.” For those who are looking for a good time at the movies, it will satisfy and then some. But for people who love movies as an art form, The Odyssey stands as one of the best recent examples of the kind of film that a large studio budget rarely allows in the modern day: a singular artistic vision in a blockbuster featuring a world you can believe in. Let’s take a look at how The Odyssey proves there’s still hope for big-budget moviemaking.
A Fully Realized World
When we look back on the history of genre film, the movies that have become the most established parts of the cultural lexicon tend to be ones with worlds the audience are fully absorbed by. Think of Middle-earth in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the techno-dystopian world of The Matrix, or a galaxy far, far away in Star Wars. These are places with a genuine sense of verisimilitude, the feeling of being real, which can only be maintained through internal consistency and an artistic approach of sincerity. This does not mean that the world needs to be realistic, and indeed, The Odyssey is nowhere near realistic with its anachronistic costume design and numerous mythical monsters. But it does mean that a film’s world needs to be taken seriously by the artists, so it can therefore be taken seriously by the audience.
This approach stands in contrast to the current trend among studio blockbusters, most notably the influx of superhero films coming from Marvel and DC, where filmmakers treat their worlds with irony. Much of the comedy in modern blockbusters comes from making fun of their own world-building, imparting a cynical attitude that makes it impossible to invest in a setting as fully real. To use a recent example, why should I believe in Eternia in Masters of the Universe when the characters are saying “it’s crazy” that there’s a green tiger or a talking bird? That’s not to say you can’t use humor to develop your setting, but treating the fictional world with flippancy ruins a setting’s integrity, something we also see with increasingly dire digital backdrops, or environments that feel like hyper-stylized sets instead of places where people actually live (I’m looking at you, Dune Part One and Two!).
Nolan presents Homeric Greece with a subdued, naturalistic visual style that facilitates easygoing believability even with the story’s inherent fantasy elements. Some may consider the color palette washed out, but I would argue it’s simply understated, leaving key flashes of stronger color as potent bursts of energy in a broken, decaying world. This extends to every aspect of the production design, as well as how the film creates a sense of living space by using real locations and plenty of extras. While historians may cry foul at the armor and helmets of Odysseus and his companions, or that there is nary a trace of Mediterranean ancestry in the film’s incredibly stacked cast, the fact remains that Nolan and his team have worked overtime to build a setting that can be the sturdy foundation The Odyssey needs so the audience can immerse themselves in the experience. That work is critical so the film can function in the mode of storytelling Nolan is aiming for.
An Epic Scope
The mode in question would be an epic, which here refers to a genre, not necessarily a level of quality (although the movie is excellent). The word “epic” comes from defining a type of story, after all, that being the epic poem, of which Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey are among the prototypical examples. Given the poem’s length, a worthy adaptation of The Odyssey needs to be epic in size, but Nolan’s approach makes it epic in feel. There are many movies that have runtimes over two or even three hours that don’t warrant them, but The Odyssey takes full advantage of its length, luxuriating in its world and story through layered flashbacks and considered payoffs. This is done so that the weight of Odysseus’s journey, the absolute exhaustion he must feel as two decades pass before he sets foot on familiar shores, is an experience the audience can actually empathize with.
Translating the grand narrative and episodic structure of an epic poem into a medium like film that values brevity and honing in on the emotional crux of a given scene would be a heavy task for any filmmaker. It’s easy to imagine a version of The Odyssey that leaves filmgoers complaining that it should’ve been a miniseries for streaming. How fortunate for us then that Nolan and his collaborators understand the tone and rhythm of cinematic storytelling so well, that the film intercuts between so many different characters and subplots without losing the emotional throughline (editor Jennifer Lame, come get your trophies). Instead of each “episode” of Odysseus’s adventure – the Cyclops, the Laestrygonians, the Sirens, going to Hades, etc. – being starts and stops in the film’s flow, they operate as cascading events, each one reverberating against the others and making the sum of his quest as overwhelming as possible.
That sense of scale, the epic scope of the film’s take on the original poem, is both Nolan’s most ambitious conceit and his most strategic choice. The Odyssey delays gratification for what feels like ages, making the anticipation for Odysseus’s return to Ithaca, reunion with his wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway) and son Telemachus (Tom Holland), and the comeuppance of the legion of suitors who have been tormenting his family for years nearly unbearable. But like the massive bow that Odysseus strings to show Penelope he is indeed her husband, the tension gets to the highest point before giving us the catharsis we need.
The subsequent action finale where Odysseus slaughters the suitors – along with a bit of help from Telemachus and loyal servant Eumaeus (John Leguizamo) – is one of the most satisfying sequences in Nolan’s filmography because character and audience are completely in sync. This climax means as much for Odysseus as it does for us, for even if the movie wants us to consider the complexity of Odysseus’s actions at Troy and his impact on the world, we all still want to see him finally take back his home.
A Visionary Director
And once again, we’re back at the same drum I’ve been banging for years here at IGN: Hollywood needs to let talented directors make the films they want to make. It sounds so simple, and yet it’s a lesson that studios have refused to learn time and time again as they try to dictate terms to filmgoers who have become increasingly frustrated with reheated IPs and mismanaged franchises. And yes, to be clear, doing another version of The Odyssey isn’t exactly the pinnacle of originality given that the story is several thousand years old, but the passion Nolan feels for the project bleeds onto every inch of the IMAX screen. Can we say the same for movies like The Mandalorian and Grogu, which fizzled out with the worst box office result of any Star Wars film, or Supergirl, which was reportedly ripped out of its director’s hands and has dealt a severe blow to the new DCU only two films in?
Seeing The Odyssey in close proximity to other recent studio blockbusters is an exercise in exasperation. Watching a movie that actually feels directed should not be a “once in a while” treat when going to the theater. Distinct creative choices and a sense of authorial intention are key components of what makes a film more than a mere collection of moving images, and Nolan’s reputation – to the point of being one of the few working directors your average person on the street could name – comes from those same components. It also comes from constantly challenging himself as an artist, pushing the boundaries of what he can achieve both narratively and in terms of technical craft with every movie he makes. Sadly, refusing to be complacent, to not just settle for doing what you’ve done before, is all too rare in mainstream moviemaking.
That’s not to say there aren’t plenty of talented people working on movies that fall a little short, but their efforts are often undermined by mercurial executives, micromanaged productions, and misguided studio priorities. It’s not just a disservice to directors, especially up and coming ones who don’t have the same clout as someone like Nolan, but also to their numerous collaborators both in front of and behind the camera. Yet watching a movie like The Odyssey proves that singular visions can still make it through the studio system intact. It’s a luxury that needs to be afforded to more than just a venerated few, but that it’s possible at all shows that Hollywood is capable of doing things the right way.
Like Odysseus and Penelope sailing to the West, filmmaking may be chasing the escaping sun, but there’s still some light on those uncertain seas.
Carlos Morales writes novels, articles, and Mass Effect essays. You can follow his fixations on Twitter.
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https://www.ign.com/articles/the-odyssey-proves-theres-still-hope-for-big-budget-filmmaking
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