Christopher Nolan had a near impossible task after Oppenheimer. Instead of trying to top that huge, award-winning movie with another historical drama, or going back to the futuristic sci-fi he sometimes favours, he went in the opposite direction, tackling one of the oldest stories ever told.
The Odyssey is based on Homer’s epic poem, a story that has influenced thousands of years of literature, film, and television. It’s one of the first examples of storytelling that fleshed out ideas like the hero’s journey, the reluctant adventurer, the long voyage home, monsters as obstacles, temptation, sacrifice, and personal transformation. You can trace so much of modern storytelling back to this one tale.
Odysseus (Matt Damon) is trying to make his way home after the Trojan War, but the gods, monsters, and just about everything else imaginable stand in his way. Back home, his palace has been overtaken by arrogant suitors pressuring his wife, Penelope (Anne Hathaway), to choose a new husband while plotting to eliminate their son, Telemachus (Tom Holland).
Visually, it’s exactly what you’d expect from Christopher Nolan. He had new IMAX cameras developed to make them quiet enough for dialogue scenes (IMAX cameras are notoriously loud), and he shot on real locations whenever possible. The result is spectacular. The scale is enormous, the sound is thunderous, and everything has a physical weight that so many effects-heavy blockbusters lack. This is epic filmmaking for a famously epic story, and it’s hard not to admire the ambition.
The movie also has a sense of fun. There are genuinely tense sequences, including one involving the Trojan Horse that had me far more anxious than I expected, alongside encounters with monsters and all sorts of wonderfully strange mythology. It’s weird in the best way, embracing the mythical side of the story instead of trying to explain it away.
Where the film stumbles occasionally is in its dialogue. Nolan clearly wants certain moments to feel timeless and poetic, almost Shakespearean, but they don’t always land. Characters will suddenly launch into grand speeches that feel oddly artificial, especially coming from actors speaking in unmistakably modern American accents. Sometimes it works. Other times it feels like the movie is trying just a little too hard to sound profound, and those moments become clunky rather than moving.
There are interesting ideas here about war, family, trauma, and what it means to return home after unimaginable violence. Some of those themes resonate, while others feel like they’re only briefly touched on before the story moves to the next adventure. There are moments where I wanted Nolan to dig a little deeper.
At three hours, it’s undeniably a commitment. Did it need to be that long? I’m honestly not sure. There may be an incredible two-hour cut buried in here somewhere. But despite the runtime, it rarely drags. The pacing is surprisingly brisk, and I was never bored. In fact, it often feels shorter than its runtime would suggest.
I’m not a Chris Nolan fanboy, but I’m always interested in whatever he’s doing next. Few directors are working this hard to preserve the theatrical experience while still pushing the art form further into the 21st century.
I don’t think this ranks among Nolan’s very best films, but I also have little doubt it’ll end up being one of the year’s best movies. More importantly, it’s exactly the kind of spectacle that’s worth seeing in a theatre. Or if you can, on the biggest IMAX screen you can find.
