The Odyssey is a hearty stew of cinema. Gargantuan in scope, mesmeric in its technical achievement, one could say it’s the type of tale that only the robust creative instincts befitting Christopher Nolan could tackle. It’s a film that made my head spin, my ears ring, my chest vibrate, and my lungs empty as Nolan takes the viewer from a prison made of beach and ocean, to the blackened sands of Hades, a moonless night lit by the fires of a burning Troy all the while reshaping and transmogrifying the very idea what a cinematic blockbuster is meant to be.
Based on the ancient Greek epic by Homer, The Odyssey is the tale of Odysseus (Matt Damon), king of Ithaca who, following his victory in the Trojan War, spends years trying to make it home to his wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway) and his son, Temelachus (Tom Holland) as he and his fellow soldiers encounter mythical wonders and dangers all the while a horde of suitors, lead by the lecherous and odious Antinous (Robert Pattinson) invade the walls of Ithaca’s palace, waiting for Penelope to finally let go of the memory of her lost love and choose his replacement.Â
For all of its grand vistas and gigantic wonders that line the foundations of The Odyssey, it’s a deeply intimate film. Yes, we’re here for the spectacle, but as both director and scribe, Nolan puts character before bombast, delving deep into the souls of each. Damon’s Odysseus is both king and man of the people, someone who defies the gods in favour of his fellow man, and is yet admired by the very same deities. He’s haunted by both the vision of Athena who compels him to go home, and the guilt of his soldierly duties in the siege of Troy, unable to bare the burden of such trauma even if it’s by his own hand. His son Telemachus wears the clothing of a failson, but has his father’s heart and courage as he leaves Ithaca to find out just what happened to his old man. As the young, anxious king in waiting, Holland is a true marvel, his Telemachus is at once weak but intensely righteous, eager to protect the very name of the father he barely knows. But in a film where almost everything is a marvel to behold, Anne Hathaway shines brightest amongst the rest. Penelope is neither damsel in distress, nor jilted lover, her heart aching in the absence of Odysseus, doing here level best to not burn her home down and the salivating suitors that have taken up residence within. Her heart may long, but her mind is captured by the rage of experience and the inability to use it, forced to watch a throne remain empty as the wolves claw at the door.
It’s very obvious that Nolan’s technical and creative collaborators have been given the right amount of runway to hammer down their respective crafts, pushing them to the limits of what’s conceivable, and beyond. Ludwig Goransson’s score at once hops between genres, ancient sounds slamming into the future, all the while remaining consistently explosive, vibrating you out of your seat. Cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytemma’s hypnotic visuals would make Kubrik tear up, harkening back to Barry Lyndon’s own candlelit insanity, revelling in the shadows of his image, exposing just enough that it’d make Gordon Willis tense up. Jennifer Lame’s cutting has a rhythmic chaos to it, as she and Nolan once again tear up the very fabric of time all the while keeping the emotional heft of Odysseus’ struggle front and centre without losing a single ounce of momentum.
Nolan proves to be a showman of the heart. For much of the first half of The Odyssey, the director acts as more of a guide than storyteller, familiarising us with the landscape of Homer’s world. Sure, it’s beautiful and all, Chris, but where’s this going? And just at our most sedate and serene, is when the full weight of The Odyssey hits us, and the true heart of this odyssey reveals itself – not of cyclopes and sirens who compel men to jump to their deaths. Not of fallen soldiers risen once more and armoured behemoths who lay waste to entire armies, or whirlpools into the unknown. But that of a man desperate to get home, who wears the souls of the fallen on his back and the guilt of his own actions in his belly. It’s a wallop to the guts when you least expect it, leaving you breathless and gleefully exhausted as the lights brighten once more.Â
Is this Nolan’s best film? It’s hard to say, only time can answer that question, but with everything he’s accomplished in his career, The Odyssey is truly his most ambitious project to date. It feels like a film that is so thoroughly in his bones, there was no one else but him to make it, so much so that by the end of its theatrical run I wouldn’t be the least bit shocked if he announced his retirement, having pushed the boundaries of the medium so thoroughly, there wasn’t anything else to do but rest. The Odyssey is a true wonder of cinema, an elevation of the bar that is impossible to ignore and cements Nolan as one of the greats of his generation.Â
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