The Odyssey – Review
What Remains of Heroism? ‘The Odyssey‘: Nolan’s Anti-War Epic
Spoilers for Christopher Nolan’s ‘The Odyssey’ and ‘Oppenheimer’ ahead.
When it was announced that Christopher Nolan would be adapting Homer’s once-unadaptable Odyssey (725 BCE), I was admittedly sceptical. The conversation surrounding Homer’s work felt similar to that of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925). There is something so literate about these works that a screen adaptation seemed simply impossible to get right, regardless of who may be behind the camera. However, what Nolan has achieved in his adaptation of the once unadaptable has resulted in one of the greatest cinematic achievements of the century. Watching The Odyssey (2026) felt like witnessing a culmination of all of his previous works. It adopts the spectacle of Inception (2010), the tension of Dunkirk (2017), and most importantly, the war politics and moral ambiguities of Oppenheimer (2023).
Statue of Athena – ‘The Odyssey’
The film opens with The Bard (Travis Scott) reciting the story of Odysseus (Matt Damon) and the Trojan War, with the first twenty minutes serving as essential exposition. From the moment the film opens, it is evident that the spectator is about to witness a phenomenal spectacle, as this film is undeniably technically flawless. My first viewing was at the UK Multimedia screening, held at the BFI IMAX in 70mm, and it was even more beautiful than I could have ever expected. The immersion was unbeatable, as I found myself swept up in the visuals crafted by cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema and enchanted by Ludwig Göransson’s hypnotic score. My second screening was an opening day 35mm screening at the Tyneside Cinema in Newcastle upon Tyne. Initially, like most cinephiles, I was curious to see how the loss of screen would impact my viewing experience, knowing what the extra height afforded to me by 70mm gave me. I found that the grain of 35mm film enhanced the timelessness of the story, particularly in scenes that were dimly lit, and whilst the 35mm looked gorgeous, the loss of height and some technical spectacle allowed me to focus more on the story itself, which I thought was beautifully translated.
On both viewings, it was undeniable to me that Circe’s (Samantha Morton) sequence was the highlight of the film. In Nolan’s adaptation, Circe is depicted as sympathetic, contrasting the moral ambiguity of Odysseus. She challenges his behaviour and that of his men, as she immediately brings into question why they may be at her residence, making it clear that these men have a violent reputation. She challenges their greed for power by turning them into swine, with imagery reminiscent of Miyazaki’s Spirited Away. Her justification is that these men “raped and pillaged across the world”, marking these pigs as their true form. In contrast to the book where Circe is depicted as withholding Odysseus’ journey, Nolan’s work reframes her as a character willing to hold Odysseus and his men to account. Morton commands the situation with quiet authority amidst the grand spectacle.
The sequence slows the narrative to interrogate the consequences of Odysseus’ pursuit of glory, offering a compelling moral counterweight that lingers throughout, becoming unignorable as Odysseus and his men face their fallen in the underworld. In this light, Circe acts as the moral conscience of the film, as she voices the concerns that Nolan repeatedly signals throughout the narrative, asking us “what remains of heroism once victory in war has been achieved”? This sequence challenges spectators to reframe Odysseus’ status as it has been achieved through the suffering and collateral damage of others. This establishes Nolan’s Odyssey as a timely study on the human cost of war, leaving it in direct conversation with its predecessor, Oppenheimer.
Matt Damon as Odysseus – ‘The Odyssey’
Yet, for all its visual grandeur, the film succeeds because of its grounded, human performances. This is particularly true of leading man Matt Damon, who plays Odysseus as a morally ambiguous, contradictory man who remains charismatic enough to conjure unwavering loyalty from his men. When paired with Nolan’s refusal to sanitise the brutality and violence of Odysseus’ journey, this emphasises the moral weight carried within every decision made by Odysseus. This leaves comparison and conversation between both The Odyssey and Oppenheimer’s anti-war narrative, as both protagonists are depicted as haunted less by the opposition, but more by the weight of their own actions. Although violence in The Odyssey is choreographed to a spectacle, Nolan never allows for it to feel celebratory, as every death reinforces the central question of whether violence can ever truly be justified in the face of war, further reinforced by Athena’s (Zendaya) physical manifestation as a girl violently killed in the Trojan War.
Nolan’s decision to interrogate his subjects rather than blindly celebrate is what makes his adaptation so remarkable as he reimagines the story through a contemporary lens. His decision to keep the story grounded, not just in his depictions of the characters, but in his depictions (or lack thereof) of the mythological elements, focuses the story as one of guilt. Both Oppenheimer and The Odyssey functionally converse to ask whether humanity can live with the guilt of its destruction, with Nolan deliberately leaving this unresolved, leaving spectators with a lingering emotional ambiguity.
Odysseus and his crew – ‘The Odyssey’
With The Odyssey, Nolan has achieved the impossible task of adapting the unadaptable whilst delivering the thematic culmination of his career. The film displays astonishing technical craftsmanship and profound moral complexity alongside phenomenal performances across the board. Furthermore, it proves that centuries-old stories can hold contemporary value and significance, as The Odyssey asks urgent questions about war and power.
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