REVIEW. THE ODYSSEY: Who Says You Can't Go Home?

Poster for Christopher Nolan's latest iteration of Homer's epic poem.

Who says you can't go home? From the Prodigal Son to Dorothy Gale, literary characters and historic figures are part of a continuum that explores the complexities inherent in going back to where you (think you) belong. Even Bon Jovi recorded a hit song asking the same question. And now we have Christopher Nolan's latest opus magnus, The Odyssety, already a cinematic landmark for being filmed entirely in IMAX 70-mm. Based on University of Pennsylvania classicist Emily Wilson's translation of Homer's epic poem (the first in English by a female scholar, a distinction Wilson rejects as sexist), Nolan's Odyssey takes its cues and its narrative choices from Wilson's text, making it kind of a re-telling of a translation, not a visualization of the original verse.

When it comes to movie adaptations of great books, I've never been a purist. Film and literature are two different media, and what works well on the printed page may not easily or successfully translate to the silver screen. F. Scott Fitzgerald's novels are a great example. Fitzgerald's emphasis on the word, from complex narratives to character descriptions (or lack thereof), all add to the beauty and mystique of his stories. I have often argued there's never been a film version of any Fitzgerald novel that completely captures the effectiveness of his prose. But I once had a lovely chat with a Professor Emerita of English at Case Western Reserve University, who told me she thought the 1995 movie Clueless was far better than Jane Austen's novel, Emma, on which it's based.

As if.

Earlier this year, Emerald Fennell's film version of Emily Brontë's gothic romance/revenge classic, Wuthering Heights, took liberties with the narrative, consolidated characters, and focused on one singular aspect of the story: the obsessive love between Cathy (Margot Robbie) and Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi). Though not faithful to the original text, Fennell expressed beautifully the passion, the yearning, the tragedy inherent in obsessive love. Every frame of this film was shot with meticulous attention to detail, drawing in the audience visually and emotionally to the all-consuming sumptuousness of Cathy and Heathcliff's emotional love and physical intimacy.

In interview after interview, Fennell was very clear explaining that she wanted to make a movie that expressed how she felt about Brontë's novel when first she read it as an adolescent. It mattered less that the actors Robbie and Elordi are older than their fictional counterparts or that costumes are an amalgam of several historical periods. Every aspect of the film - from performances to dialogue, from set design to cinematography - is used to convey the sexual desire and psychological angst that comes with first love. The final cut did not yield universal praise for Fennell's effort, but the movie was, without doubt, the result of her vision and, to that end, she made thoughtful choices that were consistent with her interpretation of the story.

Nolan's iteration of The Odyssey, has already received its share of pre-release criticism from self-proclaimed "purists" who argue he has not been faithful to Homer's story. But let's clarify one important point here: Nolan's loudest detractors are not necessarily film critics or respected academics. Most are racists and misogynists from the MAGA crowd who object to Nolan's diverse selection of actors in key roles. I doubt Elon Musk, who critized the casting of Lupita Nyong'o as Helen of Troy (too black), ever read The Odyssey, and I'm certain POTUS #47 wouldn't know Homer from a homie.

Daniel Mendelsohn, a classicist who published his own popular translation of Homer's Odyssey, has commented on the casting backlash. In a recent NY Times essay, Mendelsohn defended Nolan, saying that the filmmaker “is using Helen just as the Greek authors did: to provoke, challenge and discomfit how we think about beauty and identity, about who we are and how we relate to our world,” an indication Nolan has made thoughtful, if provocative, choices in bringing this 3000 year-old story to the big screen. Actors, dialogue and costumes may not thus fit individual views about Homer's iconic poem but, taken together, Nolan's choices should complete the whole of his vision.

But do they? Nolan, known for his attention to detail in period pieces - Dunkirk and Oppenheimer are good examples - appears to have focused his efforts elsewhere, relying on stunning visuals over character substance, contemporary relevance over historical accuracy/consistency, and secularism over the importance of the gods. The result is a beautiful-to-look-at, if somewhat humdrum (and plodding), tale of everyman Odysseus (Matt Damon), curiously filled with modern-day sensibilities and angst (including PTSD), trying to find his way home.

The problem, though, is that Odysseus as a mythical, historic, arguably heroic figure, is anything but an everyman: he's a wanderer, a warrior, the person often credited as one of the heroes of the Trojan War. So trying to make his story "relatable" to a broad audience ultimately oversimplifies the complexities found in Homer's adventurous tale in terms of both characters and the plot. Damon, with his wide-open American face and undeniable Boston accent, easily demonstrates courage and resilience, but doesn't always convincingly convey Odysseus's cunning, his ease with prevarication, his ability to beguile and mislead. Even bearded, he looks more impish and confused than underhanded and deceitful.

In the original poem, Homer regularly questions the gods: challenging them, infuriating them, placating and cajoling them. But we see none of this in Nolan's film. Perhaps this is because the director chose to almost completely eliminate "the gods" with which Odysseus interacts. The only visible god here is Athena (Zendaya, looking like she is in mid-wardrobe change from Dune 3), who pops in and out as a kind of protective overseer of Odysseus's journey. But without other gods to challenge, thwart and confuse him, Odysseus is adrift on his own adventure, with lots of gaps in the numerous detours and distractions that prolonged Odysseus's homecoming.

Of course, there's still a lot going on at home, mostly the pursuit of Odysseus's long-suffering wife, Penelope (Anne Hathway), by dozens (108, to be exact) suitors vying for her hand (and marriage bed), living in and off of her home and wealth. The devious Antinous (a wonderfully sleazy Robert Pattinson) spars with Odysseus's only son Telemachus (Tom Holland, who's got boyish looks, but still seems a bit old for the part), about whether Odysseus is still alive, while a bard (rapper Travis Scott) sings tales of the goings-on in Ithaca. The of-the-moment raps were a nice, if anachronistic, touch.

Nolan stacks his supporting cast with some acting heavyweights. In addition to Oscar winners Damon, Hawthaway, and Nyong'o there are Oscar-winner Charlize Theron (the nymph Calyso), and Oscar-nominees Samanath Morton (wonderful as the witch Circe), Elliot (formerly Ellen) Page (the soldier Sinon who is the son of a servant to Antinous), and a very touching John Luguizano as Eumaeus, Odysseus's blind swineherd and faithful servant.

All the actors here fine here, except that Nolan does very little to give any of them depth or a sense of narrative purpose. The actors thus are merely props for the visual effects. Emphasis is almost exclusively given to the spectacular battle scenes (and they are breathtaking). There are at least three depictions of the Trojan War: a flash forward, a present day re-enactment, and a flashback, along with numerous close-ups of a troubled Odysseus observing the carnage. What's missing, though, is Achilles. Nolan opted to conflate Achilles's character with Sinon and several others, making the famous confrontation with the underworld a kind of "zombies on the beach" encounter.

Did Nolan confuse The Odyssey with The Iliad, Homer's other epic poem, the one that focuses on the Trojan conflict? Instead of exploring some of the many detours and roundabouts Odysseus encounters on his journey back to Ithaca, Nolan's narrative feels like one battle after another (of course, that movie title was recently used to great Oscar recognition). The first two-plus hours are spent retelling the events in and around the siege at Troy, after which Nolan leaps to Odysseus's return home, ignoring or collapsing several other of the poems "books" which are arguably pivotal in understanding Odysseus's character and the poem's essential themes: the testing of loyalty, the importance of omens, ambiguity of coming home.

The last forty-five minutes of the movie thus feel rushed and eager to wrap up an overlong prologue to Odysseus's plight and journey. Nolan wanted the film to run longer, but needed to deliver a movie that theaters could show within a reasonable time slot. That and the use of IMAX technology might have resulted in edits to the final cut and a slightly under three hours running time. Guess we'll never know, unless a "director's cut" version is in the making. The Odyssey isn't slow, but it is long, and I felt every minute of my time in the theater, mostly bored because I can only "ooh and ahh" at so many stunningly brutal visual images. I won't reveal the ending, but it deviates significantly from the original in terms of narrative, theme and impact. It also suggested an open door for a sequel. Is Nolan hoping to create another Batman-esque franchise?

I must add one additional observation as I watched what has already been hailed by some critics as the best film of the year (it's only July, folks): Christopher Nolan has absolutely no understanding of how to write for women. Granted, The Odyssey is the tale about a man's world, but women play important roles in the story. From Odysseus's wife, Penelope to the goddess Athena, women shape and impact Odysseus's journey, including his ability to get back to Ithaca at all. Still, as I bemoaned in my review of Nolan's Oscar-winning Oppenheimer, toxic masculinity seems to once again prevail in how he shapes his narrative. Women are grouped in one of two categories: mother/protectress (Penelope and Athena), or seductress/whore (Calypso and Circe).

When Menelaus (Jon Bernthal) points out Helen of Troy to Telemachus by calling her "the face that launched a thousand ships," the camera pans to the other side of Helen's face, which is scarred. "Or make that 500 now," he smirks. Seriously? How vicious a remark: not only a sexist, but a racist comment, given the woman of color portraying her.

Apparently, Nolan must have thought that this little diversion from Wilson's text - and history - there's no evidence that Helen of Troy (if she existed) was scarred, would make for an amusing piece of manspeak. But, even if the remark was meant to illustrate Menelaus's cruelty, it plays more like a cheap shot than a character revelation. It's awful and unnecessary. Unfortunate, too, that all four women were ultimately reduced to looking stoic, bored or both is not the fault of the actresses. The problem lies in Nolan's script and in his determination to place women as scenery, rather than develop them as three-dimensional humans.

Ditto on the script, which is mostly filled with platitudes like, "The power of the sacrifice is in the cost of the person making it." The characters rarely appear to be in conversation with each other. Instead, they spew trite observations about gods and mortals. Wilson's translation was lauded for its ability to correct "euphemistic" or "anachronistic" language used by previous translators to create a more readable verse for twenty-first century audiences. Nolan, in turn, has resorted to having characters pontificate, rather than converse, spouting one hackneyed proverb after another. Deep thoughts they are not and, even if Nolan's intention was to secularize the idea of the gods for a contemporary audience, he could have done more than reduce the dialogue to minimalist tropes and clichés. As a result, Odysseus's ambivalence about whether to return home loses its impact.

Nolan has said that "returning home" is a recurring theme in his films. From Inception (2010) and Interstellar (2014) to Batman Begins (2005) and Dunkirk (2017), Nolan's focus on finding home is intrinsically tied to achieving redemption, and equally connected to his fascination with time and space. It is fitting - maybe even ironic - that his first feature, 2000's Memento is about a man named Leonard Shelby (Guy Pierce) who has anterograde anmnesia, making it impossible to create long-term memories and altering his (and the audience's) perception of time. What Leonard discovers at the end of the film is less about home as a place and more about the idea of finding a sense of comfort and belonging.

Home - or the return to it - is thus complicated, often weighted down by personal loss, emotional attachment, and unrealized dreams. It can be both a physical space and a spiritual sanctuary - the feeling I often say washes over me every time I go to a Cleveland Guardians game at Progressive Field, or sit in the atrium at the Cleveland Museum of Art. That sense of comfort is tied to many things: memories of my parents, graduate school experiences, moments of joy that have stayed with me for decades.

Home is where you find comfort, sanctuary. Perhaps, it lives where the heart is.  But going back in search of something that may have never existed seens like the most futile journey of all, and Nolan hasn't bothered to develop any palatable relationships or attachments that would spur Odysseus back to his family. Damon and Hathaway's scenes together are sparse, giving little sense of the powerful love that binds them. The most touching scene in the movie for me was the death of Odysseus's dog Argos, a moment that suggested loyalty, remembrance and love all in the simple wag of a tail. Too bad there wasn't more compelling drama among the human characters.

As I thought about The Odyssey on the walk home, I couldn't help but assess Nolan's other movies and some recurrent features in his films. I've pretty much seen the entire Nolan film catalogue, and I must say that none of his movies has moved me...ever. He makes very finely crafted movies with generally compelling stories, but the takeaway for me is almost always sterile, cold. Unlike Guillermo del Toro, whose stunning visuals are always complemented by deeply human situations, Nolan's movies are generally devoid of emotion. Check out Pan's Labyrinth, The Shape of Water or Frankenstein to understand how del Toro not only finds, but celebrates, the humanity in us all.

Only two characters from a Nolan film have every reached out and grabbed my heart: Heath Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight and Cillian Murphy's title character in Oppenheimer. Their performances, I'm convinced, are due less to Nolan's script and direction, and more to their individually fierce, if very different, acting abilities. Just watch Ledger's eyes and Murphy's face in their respective roles, and you'll find everything you need to know about their characters.

A few other thoughts: The Odyssey is considered ground-breaking because it is the first feature-length movie to be shot in IMAX 70-mm. Unfortunately, there are few theaters who have the capability to show the film in that format. The XQ/DTS-format I saw was very loud, with the sound effects and score sometimes so noisy that it was difficult to hear the dialogue. Every sword clank, every creak of the ship's wood, every grunt (human and otherwise) is emphasized, echoed and impossible to ignore, so much so that I became increasingly irritated by the audio. In effect, it detracted from my movie experience. And, because so many of the scenes take place at night or in candlelit dark spaces, the scope of 70-mm won't translate well to a TV screen (no matter how big it is). So, if you opt to watch this movie at home, be prepared to be underwhelmed by the visuals.

Most film critics are already giving The Odyssey the Best Picture Oscar, but I'd be careful about premature congratulations. Yes, the movie is made for the big screen in the best way possible: the visuals are powerful, at times stunning, and larger-than-life, just like Homer's epic should be. But, in trying to make Odysseus relevant to a new generation, Nolan may have unintentionally lost the best part of The Odyssey: its poetry. Perhaps, New Yorker film critic Richard Brody (also a Homerian scholar), opined that Nolan has turned the "poetic to prosaic."

I wish I'd written that phrase, as it may be the most spon-on analysis of what Nolan has done in bringing The Odyssey to the big screen. He's taken an extraordinary adventure and turned it into a pedestrian fantasy action movie. He's presented Odysseus as more troubled anti-war refugee than Homer's very clever and resourceful warrior recognized as such by his peers. So it's entirely possible that people unfamiliar with Homer's Odyssey are more likely to enjoy this movie than those of us who have read and studied a translation of this classic Greek tale.

Oh, well. Most people probably don't know that Dorothy's shoes in L. Frank Baum's The Wizard of Oz weren't really ruby. They were silver and likely used to illustrate the argument about the silver v. gold standard that dominated the American Populist movement of the late nineteenth century (Baum's book was first published in 1900). But silver shoes didn't pop against a yellow brick road in Technicolor the way red did, and so Hollywood changed the color to create a better cinematic visual. Did we lose Baum's Populist parable in the process? Did Cher's yellow plaid mini-skirts in Clueless disrespect Emma's confining hoop skirts? Maybe. But at least the story of Dorothy Gale's imaginary journey to Oz, along with her determination to find her way home remained in tact, and Cher's realization that her actions (no matter how well intended) have consequences. Both of these adapted modernizations contain some meaningful philosophy: realizing that the attributes you seek may already be present in your mind and heart.

I can't say the same about The Odyssey. Odysseus's problematic quest to reclaim his family and return home to Ithaca seems more like an elaborate ruse to utilize IMAX technology than a reaffirmation of the themes and lessons Homer presented so long ago. But, if you like big movies with lots of action, by all means, check out Christopher Nolan's latest. Keep in mind, that it is eight minutes shy of three hours. So choose your time wisely.

And stay tuned for the sequel....

*******

The Odyssey is currently playing in theaters, with some offering IMAX and fewer IMAX 70-mm. It is rated "R" for numerous scenes of intense, bloody violence and some profanity. Would Odysseus really have said, "Ten years on this fucking beach. Let's go home!"? Don't expect this big screen epic to stream for quite awhile... unless box office results don't surpass its reported $250M budget.