The proclamation of writer/director Christopher Nolan's adaptation of Homer's epic poem, The Odyssey, was greeted with great ardor (and an avalanche of pre-ticket sales), but as time progressed and footage (laced with its murmured, contemporary parlance, and debatable, diverse-to-a-fault casting) was revealed, concern ascended. As such, I did my best to remain receptive when viewing the completed product, and for the sake of this post, I hope to apply comparable objectiveness.
For the record, this particular Odyssey captures ample aspects of Homer's The Iliad; and why not? The decade-long Trojan War is the catalyst for Odysseus' exhausting journey, one where he's required to enter battle, only then to endure the arduous voyage home.
To jostle and extend Odysseus' cause-and-effect path, there are fierce and captivating characters to greet him, including Poseidon's cyclops son, Polyphemus; the illusory Calypso and Circe; anguished, swine-men; oversized, armored warriors; shadowy sirens; a hungry hydra, a trip into smoldering Hades; and general, backdrop terrain that's sometimes sprawling and sometimes craggy, all projected per IMAX's ubiquitous lens (secured by Hoyte van Hoytema's golden photography and Ludwig Goransson's psychedelic score). The culmination creates a mammoth reverie, not quite a Charles H. Schneer/Ray Harryhausen spectacle, mind you, but one with the same phantasmagoric intent.
And as if to capture the glory of old Hollywood, the movie has quite a cast to back it, but the results necessitate several hits and misses, with some personas lingering and others fading fast. These personas consist of Matt Damon as Ithaca's King Odysseus; Anne Hathaway as Queen Penelope; Tom Holland as Telemachus (the couple's bullied but steadfast son); Robert Pattinson's Antinous (the double-crossing pursuer of Penelope's hand); Corey Hawkins as Polybus (Antinous' abrasive henchman); Jon Berthal as King Menelaus of Sparta; Benny Safde as King Agamemnon of Mycenae; Elliot Page as Sinon (not Achilles, as some surmised and feared, but still the great warrior's understudy, albeit lifted from Virgil's The Aeneid); Lupita Nyong'o as both Helen of Troy ("the face that launched a thousand ships") and her twin sister, Clytemnestra; Charlize Theron as Calypso; Samantha Morton as Circe; Zendaya as Athena; Mia Goth as Melantho (Penelope's disloyal maid); Bill Irwin as the amazing, colossal Polyphemus; Himesh Patel as Eurylocus (Odysseus' brother-in-law and conscientious second in command); John Leguizamo as Eumaeus (a nurturing shepherd/servant); Ryan Hurst as Mentor (whose name says it all) and Travis Scott as Demodocus (a bookending, rhythmic raconteur). There are many others, since this is a cinematic monument, with many participants required to populate its parts.
Some of the performers I fancy (whether in this production or beyond it); others, not so much so, due to their absurdist pronouncements on any number of topics. Also, it doesn't matter whom I prefer among the lot. I like to keep my posts a certain length, and to pick and choose the ups and downs of a cast this overwhelming would (I fear) take forever and a day, page upon page. Let's just say that I believe others will feel as I do when it comes to the personality juxtaposing. In addition, as far as who's-who ensembles go, this one might be weighty (and favorable to some for its DC/Marvel alignment), but it can't match the smooth, satisfying likes of The Ten Commandments (1956), The Longest Day, A Bridge Too Far, How the West Was Won, It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, Airport or The Poseidon Adventure (1972). The Odyssey's mismatched and polarizing semblances could, in this regard, be the movie's aesthetic downfall: a big no-no for a broad fantasy or for that matter, even a grounded one.
The choice of casting stems from an evident need to modernize The Odyssey (with the performers being the characters and not the performers becoming the characters), while at the same time, keeping the story stationed in its proper, ancient niche. Because of the stressed dynamic, it might be wise to perceive The Odyssey along the lines of Fellini Satyricon, Zack Snyder's 300 and/or Alejandro Jodorowsky's El Topo and The Holy Mountain: idealized, partial-anachronistic visions that have achieved a cult status. However, this categorization doesn't define other Nolan movies (prime cases in point being The Dark Knight Rises, Interstellar and Oppenheimer), where the substantial streams are seamless despite the inflation. The director's fans, therefore, are inclined to find The Odyssey a clashing, cinematic experiment that some will call "woke," due to its various, cultural appeasements, and some will call "conservative," due to Odysseus' tireless "work ethic." Either way, it's not one or the other, and so, how can it please either side, let alone both?
Despite the conflict, the movie exudes certain sectional virtues, in particular when it reaches its anticipated, bow-and-arrow climax. As with Uberto Pasolini's The Return, Odysseus' strike-'em-down assault is well rendered, but it sure takes its meandering time to get there. This makes one wonder if the vengeful payoff is sweet enough for the final course, when that portion was adapted (and elongated) only a short time ago. (It's rather like comparing George P. Cosmatos' Tombstone to Lawrence Kasdan's Wyatt Earp, with the latter offering a condensed version of the former's O.K. Corral confrontation and with both historic examples released within close proximity.)
With this (and prior observations) expressed, I'm uncertain if I can embrace The Odyssey's daring ambivalence. I'd need to revisit it to be certain, and believe me, I still want it to win me over. Right now, though, it feels like Craig Gillespie's Supergirl: not abysmal at every turn, though far from world-shaking. For my initial view, I'd hoped it would have taken me to another time and place, with my heart racing and my spirit soaring (much as I'd experienced as a kid when watching Mario Camerini's Ulysses with Kirk Douglas and Anthony Quinn). Instead, I came away an accidental tourist, peeking from margins that I wasn't invited to attend (ah, Disclosure Day once again). Yes, I still found worth in it (without any doubt, I did), but was the entirety worthwhile? Perhaps, the question is an answer all unto itself. ᚄ
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