I watched another extraordinary feat in cinema today from none other than the legendary director, Christopher Nolan. Does he do Homer’s epic justice? Absolutely. He does change a few things hither and thither, but that’s how film adaptations have always worked, offering different interpretations of the original work.
The Odyssey manages to grip you right from the start with its impressive drama, introducing us to the turmoil in Ithaca in the absence of Odysseus. The poignant conversations between Penelope and her son, Telemachus, after the suitors have literally hijacked their palace, are brilliantly written and performed.
Direction of The Odyssey
With the master craftsman behind the lens, Nolan weaves striking imagery not only through the Trojan Horse, the Cyclops, the Laestrygonians and the Sirens, but also by moving back and forth between his timelines. His editing once again works its magic, seamlessly weaving together Odysseus’ interactions with the nymph Calypso and the goddess Athena. The story he narrates about his journey after the Trojan War unfolds as recollections of a long-forgotten sojourn.
Nolan also creates backstories to tie Antinous’ fate to Sinon’s. At the same time, he makes sure not to get too lost in the Greek mythological elements, deftly and subtly portraying Charybdis, the Sirens, and the other mythical beings. I absolutely loved how the movie takes shape right from the bard’s song:
A face… a fleet… a war… a man… a thought… a trick… a trick to break the walls of Troy… and burn it screaming to the ground!
While many mythological characters are aptly brought to life in the film, you can’t help but notice that everything is presented as a modernised interpretation of the original lore. Nolan’s Laestrygonians, the larger-than-life Agamemnon, and Scylla appear markedly different from their mythological counterparts. Whether some of these changes were truly necessary or were made primarily for visual spectacle remains open to debate.
Most Powerful Screenplay
The movie feeds on its impactful screenplay. So beautifully written that you will marvel at how expertly it is tied to the tongues of these amazing actors.
Odysseus: Why can’t Gods speak in ways we understand?
Athena: Who doesn’t understand thunder? Fire? A child’s smile? A good harvest?
The part where Odysseus describes the song of the Sirens so aptly:
All the things you wanted to be and then all the things you wished you never wished for. It was a delicious itch you want to scratch but you find it under the skin and can’t reach it. So the delicious itch becomes unbearable. It told you what you most want is what you most can’t have and that the most you can’t have is what you already had and lost. It was a song of all the promises I failed to keep. And it told me I don’t really want to go home.
Nolan’s work feels like a poem at times, especially during his excursions into the realm of gods and mythological beasts. The interaction with the Shade is poetry per se, a man unafraid to journey to the edge of the world, converse with wraiths, and listen to their haunting tales. It is all rendered with remarkable poetic beauty.
Forever is a word for the Gods.
Humanisation of Mythology
It is not hard to notice that Nolan keeps Odysseus’ adventure locked away as a tale whispered from his own lips. He doesn’t aggrandise superhuman beings like Calypso, Athena, Poseidon or Zeus. Instead, he grounds them in a deeply human world. Every seemingly outlandish sequence is either a story being narrated or a trick of the mind.
You are never given Calypso’s backstory, nor are you shown her making Odysseus consume lotus petals to rob him of his memory. Likewise, you are never directly shown any godly intervention affecting people’s lives beyond what could plausibly be explained through human experience. In a way, The Odyssey becomes less a mythical tale steeped in Greek lore and more a profoundly human story.
Athena’s presence is humanised in the form of a young girl whom Odysseus witnessed being decapitated at the very moment Apollo’s statue was beheaded. She could very well exist only as a voice inside his mind. If you had no prior knowledge of Homer’s The Odyssey, you might easily interpret the film’s mythological sequences as the fragmented memories and imagined explanations of a confused man desperately trying to make sense of what happened to his crew.
You also can’t ignore how Odysseus’s wounding of Poseidon’s son, the Cyclops, echoes Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Just as the Mariner’s killing of the albatross brings divine wrath upon his voyage, Odysseus’ actions convince his crew that the sea god’s fury is the consequence of his own transgression.
Powerful Performances
The movie is jam-packed with remarkable actors, all of whom deliver exceptional performances. Among those who stand out immediately are Robert Pattinson as Antinous and Jarreth J. Merz. If you don’t hate the former to the core, then he hasn’t done his job as the villain. Matt Damon was definitely the right choice, bringing the much-needed gravitas and demeanour that Odysseus demanded. John Leguizamo does ample justice to the role of the swineherd, while both Anne Hathaway and Tom Holland manage to bring you to tears, their performances carrying the emotional weight the story demands.
Samantha Morton’s grotesque portrayal of Circe feels as though it has been lifted straight out of a horror movie. Jon Bernthal, as Menelaus, delivers just the right amount of wisdom and guidance to Telemachus. Himesh Patel also blends effortlessly into the role of Eurylochus, convincingly portraying the man who eventually revolts against his leader.
The Odyssey Ending Explained
The final act is where Nolan superbly buries the Trojan War beneath Odysseus’ heavy brood. It is also the point at which his will to live has all but vanished, perfectly captured in his own words: “It told me I don’t really want to go home.” His reflections on not only being part of something so monstrous, but also being the architect of an idea that led to mass murder and the breaking of Zeus’ law, form the emotional crux of the film and ultimately explain his willingness to embrace death.
In the end, you see him lock himself away with hundreds of suitors surrounding him, almost as though he is willing to sacrifice himself. It beautifully conveys how completely he has lost his desire to live. The movie concludes on a subtle note, forcing you to wonder—much like The Dark Knight Rises—about the fate of its protagonist. Does he survive, or does he die?
Odysseus’ definition of exile subtly foreshadows his vision of sailing into the unknown. Nolan once again masterfully juxtaposes the character’s life and death under the aegis of his reluctance to continue living, creating an ending that feels quintessentially Nolan. For Odysseus, his purpose had been fulfilled—in vengeance, in his duty as king, in securing his son’s future as the next ruler, and finally in letting go. Yet his absolution seems to lie only in the certainty of his own death, a fate befitting the immense burden he carries within his heart. I believe an ending like this, even though it contradicts Homer’s The Odyssey, makes greater emotional sense—something Nolan seems to have understood remarkably well.
The Verdict
After leaving the theatre, you will realise there was never a dull moment in The Odyssey. Christopher Nolan ensures that you remain on the edge of your seat throughout, thanks to a compelling screenplay and performances that make you feel as though you are watching a grand Shakespearean play. The energy of the climax is so overwhelming that you can almost hear the deafening drums of your own heart. The movie does justice to the story—not in terms of complete mythological accuracy, but in the way it captures the very essence of Homer’s epic.
The Odyssey
