The Odyssey - Review

Rating: 5 out of 5

CHRISTOPHER Nolan has delivered his angriest movie to date with The Odyssey, a gruelling yet typically breath-taking adaptation of Homer's Greek epic.

In doing so, he's made Greek mythology incredibly relevant as his screenplay exists to offer an allegorical take on the contemporary world as he sees it - a world once more on the brink of destruction because of the folly of men and their inability to learn from history.

Hence, this is also an ugly film in many ways - one that wholly confronts mankind's brutality and their self-destructive hubris, regularly invoking the wrath of the Gods with their propensity for self-aggrandising and greed. Where Nolan depicts their wrath in violent storms and hostile landscapes, it's easy to view such scenes through the eyes of a world in which extreme weather events and wars are impacting our own lives... caused once more by our own desire to try to play God against the likes of Mother Nature herself.

This isn't to say that the beauty associated with Nolan's films isn't there. The images committed to screen - especially if you get to see them in IMAX form - are regularly striking. But there's an anger that accompanies them that often makes the violence depicted quite graphic and sometimes even shocking. Nolan really leans into the horror.

But this isn't violence for the sake of it. It shapes the men who witness it. It haunts and traumatises those who survive it. It examines the fragility that exists between men and their more primal instincts, while contemplating the true markers of what it means to be human: compassion, empathy, respect and unity.

Viewed within the context of Nolan's own back catalogue it also feels timely. Where Oppenheimer depicted the race to develop the world's deadliest weapon, as well as the subsequent psychological toll on the man who made it, The Odyssey provides a stark reminder of how little we have learned, or even progressed beyond either the events depicted within it, or the dropping of a nuclear bomb.

The world today is perhaps defined more by its existential threats than it has ever been: whether they come in the form of maniacal politicians committing acts of mass slaughter in order to attain subjugation or obliteration, or merely to win the battle for trading rights; the Trojan horse that is AI (as commented upon by Nolan himself), or the aforementioned climate crisis - all driven by the avarice of man.

In many ways, Odysseus is a reflection of Oppenheimer: a genius, of sorts, whose famed intelligence brings about an event of mass destruction that will forever change his destiny and that of the men who follow him.

Matt Damon plays him as a man who carries this heavy burden: someone with an inherent sense of decency, who finds that fairness tested at every turn. Flashbacks show a confident man, faithful husband and proud father - a realist and a pragmatist capable of making informed and tactical decisions even when those around him appear to be losing their heads.

It is Odysseus who came up with the idea for the wooden horse at Troy. But the fury it unleashes scars and changes him irrevocably. 

Nolan depicts the sacking of Troy, after 10 years of siege, in no holds barred fashion. But he does so intelligently. The sequence is the catalyst for the events that follow but, in the director's true style, it unfolds via flashbacks - Homer's own non-linear narrative here befitting Nolan's preferred style of filmmaking: the fractured narrative.

Hence, the events at Troy are merely hinted at early on. But as the film unfolds and people's memories become clearer, so do the flashbacks, culminating in a last act reveal that shows the full extremity of what took place.

Here, again, Nolan astonishes by using history and/or mythology as allegory. The images he commits to screen are striking in both their brutality and how they invite comparison with news footage of key moments in history - a building collapse that resembles the Twin Towers on 9/11, the random slaughter of men, women and children that echo the similar slaughter of innocents in Gaza and Israel.

Man's propensity for greed, as well as his misogyny, is realised in one audacious moment involving Samantha Norton's witch Circe that is truly horrific (and reminiscent of the little known body horror film Society), as well as the threat they hold over the likes of Lupita Nyongo's Helen of Troy (now disfigured and bearing the burden of being the 'face that launched a thousand ships') and Anne Hathaway's Penelope, a woman now living under the constant threat of her potentially abusive suitors, while balancing her hope for the return of Odysseus with the grief of knowing that he may not be alive.

Throughout, Nolan asks questions of his audience that offer no easy answers. 

It's also what makes Damon's central journey so engrossing - both from a physical point of view and an emotional one. For while there is plenty of peril (and accompanying spectacle) in Odysseus' brushes with the likes of The Cyclops, The Laestrygonians (towering, cannibalistic giants), and The Sirens, Nolan never loses sight of the psychological toll that each escapade takes (a descent into darkness that echoes Apocalypse Now... another grimly anti-war movie, with its examination of conscience).

It lends extra poignancy and power to the resolution of Odysseus' journey and his wise comments: words that should echo in eternity.

Given the dramatic weight of the film - and its generous running time - it's little wonder that the whole cast uniformly bring their A-game. Aside from Damon, who is towering, there are notable turns from the aforementioned likes of Norton and Hathaway as well as Tom Holland as Odysseus' son Telemachus - a potent mix of simmering rage and hopeless naivety. It's a true coming-of-age performance that Holland effortlessly grows into.

Robert Pattinson exudes snake-like menace and duplicitous cowardice as Antinous; Himesh Patel is terrific as Odysseus' second-in-command Eurylochus, a loyal brother-in-law who finds that loyalty pushed to its limits; Charlize Theron brings typical allure to her role as the immortal nymph Calypso, and John Leguizamo could even be in awards contention for his supporting role as the blind but wise and loyal swineherd Eumaeus.

Of note, too, is Ludwig Goransson's imposing score, which reverberates with its intensity at times (delivering that wall of sound that has become synonymous with Nolan's work), as well as Hoyte van Hoytema's cinematography, which is stunning. There are scenes that quite simply take the breath away, from opening establishing shots that dwarf viewers in their towering wake (the first view of Odysseus is a doozy), to vast ocean vistas, or even tight, claustrophobic environments such as the sweaty, cramped inside of the Trojan horse or The Cyclops' fire-lit cage.

Even at close to three hours, not a frame feels wasted. And the film sustains a tremendous energy in the way that it successfully combines that visual feast with an abundance of intellectual food for thought.

As the latest chapter in Nolan's own impressive cinematic journey, The Odyssey has to rate as another overwhelming success. It is a true gift from a cinematic God.

Certificate: 15

Running time: 2hrs 51mins