Why the film adaptation’s “real-world” approach is an epic failure
Requiring a box office revenue of at least $625 million just to break even, Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey is currently the most expensive film made this year. With a production budget of approximately $350 million CAD and a marketing budget of $175 million CAD, Nolan’s film has been met with huge anticipation. Its all-star cast is known for exceptional performances, and this film delivers on its promise of quality acting. Odysseus (Matt Damon) is believable as a serious soldier, Telemachus (Tom Holland) is a convincingly concerned son, and the supporting roles are equally adept. Anne Hathaway and John Leguizamo in particular stand out for their emotionally charged and highly compelling performances as Penelope and Eumaeus respectively. My only issue with the casting is Pattinson, who, although a fine actor in his own right, comes across as snarky rather than an intimidating and menacing Antinous.
As for the writing, Nolan altered the source material with a heavy hand. I agree entirely with Wilson when she says “the [film’s] writing is abysmal.” The dialogue seems entirely geared towards telling rather than showing, one of the weakest points of the entire film. I don’t entirely subscribe to her opinion that the film “lacks psychological, emotional, political and ethical depth,” but I certainly think it falls short of the margin in each of these categories. Several of the major characters and locations of the epic were excised, and some of the most marketed roles and actors had mere moments on screen throughout the three-hour film.
With the exception of Athena (Zendaya) and Calypso (Charlize Theron), no deities were featured on screen. In the original poem, the gods are major characters who caused miracles and mayhem alike. Nolan’s justification for this decision is that the supernatural elements of the tale are attributed to gods because the ancient Greeks had insufficient scientific knowledge. In keeping with “real-world” logic, he wanted to portray only “the evidence of the supernatural.” I strongly disagree that this is an effective means of making the original epic more “accessible for a modern audience.” As X user Chris Dixon aptly notes: “if your first thought in adapting Greek mythology is trying to make it based in real world logic[,] maybe you just shouldn’t be adapting mythology.”
Nolan’s rational, grounded approach to adapting an inherently imaginative mythology likely explains his decision to significantly change The Odyssey’s protagonist. Odysseus, best known as “godlike” and “wily,” is neither of those things in Nolan’s adaptation. Since the gods were largely absent from the film, there is no framework for what being “godlike” means, nor its significance; this attribute is consequently stripped from the character. As for being “wily,” Damon’s Odysseus frequently proves himself as being quite the opposite. When he and his men are captured by the cyclops Polyphemus, son of the sea god Poseidon, Odysseus must devise “all kinds of wiles and cunning schemes” to escape. In the original text, he blinds Polyphemus before he and his men disguise themselves as part of the cyclops’ flock and scurry their way back to the ship. However, some of the most significant elements of this encounter were omitted: there are no debates over whether travelers are entitled to hospitality or how far the authority of the gods reaches, no clever manipulations of the cyclops’ hubris, or demonstrations of Odysseus’ own pride backfiring. The ethical discussion on whether Odysseus and his men are “pirate[s]” whose men “risk their lives at sea to bring disaster / to other people” was reduced to vague commentary on “people from the sea” who pillage and destroy several nations. Polyphemus is not the intelligent, articulate being that Homer presented in his tale; Nolan reduced him to just another monster that the hero and his men must fight and defeat.
Odysseus was not the only figure to suffer a significant reduction in character depth in the film. Calypso, the goddess who rescues Odysseus from a shipwreck, is implied to be Odysseus’ lover for the seven years he spends on her island. She effectively imprisons him by feeding him lotus flowers that cloud his memory, trapping him in an endless cycle of failed attempts to recollect how he ended up on the island to begin with. Her intentions were never explored, and her motivations never explained. However, Homer gave us a completely different set of characters. Odysseus does indeed forget his mission, but his men undergo the same ordeal, owing to the Lotus-Eaters, who are only briefly mentioned. Rather than being guilty of multiple charges of drug-induced assault, Calypso is a gracious host in the epic. Aeolus, the god who provides Odysseus with a means of transportation home, didn’t even get a mention. Odysseus’ prolonged introspection and determination of his priorities were completely washed over for a few moments of lotus-munching and repeating himself. Yes, the fact that his memory is being tampered with is essential to the plot. However, that itself is not the plot. In the film, there is no subsequent pondering over what to do, where to go, who he is.
So if he isn’t “godlike” or “wily,” who is Odysseus? Emily Wilson’s renowned 2017 translation of the eponymous epic describes him foremost as “a complicated man.” He can be as cruel as he is kind and does not shy away from demonstrations of grandeur any more than acts of — by modern standards, at least — unnecessary violence. He appalls Polyphemus with his account of encountering a tribe “where they sacked the city, killed the men, and enslaved the women as concubines” without any explanation. Upon his return to Ithaca, Odysseus demands an account of female slaves who “dishonoured” him by having sex with the suitors. Despite his earlier acknowledgement that they are victims of rape, he orders their execution. This is the one major omission by Nolan that I wholeheartedly understand, as contemporary heroic values contradict such an act of horrific violence. It would be hard to sell the concept of Odysseus as a hero if his character wasn’t altered to fit modern ethical values. That is exactly the point. Odysseus is meant to be “a complicated man.” The tale’s modernization removes the necessity for exploration of cultural and social orders that would justify such horrific and unacceptable behaviour, especially from a hero, and explain their context in the story. This is why, despite notable demonstrations of bravery and convincing depictions of later remorse, Damon’s Odysseus ultimately fails to capture the multifaceted and complex nature of the original character. However, his repetitive emphasis on kindness to strangers is a commendable means of preserving Homer’s heroism. To Nolan’s credit, re-engineering Odysseus’ brief addiction to lotus flowers as a coping mechanism for dealing with the horrible psychological consequences of warfare has been praised as an accurate representation of a soldier suffering from PTSD.
I entirely disagree with TV writer Jason Hellerman’s opinion that “[the audience] kind of just have to let [Nolan] [do what he wants] because he might be the most important director working right now in the prime of his career.” It is especially because of his significance in the entertainment industry that he should be held to a higher standard of storytelling. Visually, it is a masterpiece. The highlight of this film is undoubtedly its cinematography: the film boasts stunning direction, excellent technical work, solid acting performances and highly refined production. However, its aesthetically pleasing elements have little to show beneath their polished surface. The film itself answers the question of why a third of its total production costs were dedicated solely to marketing: Nolan’s Odyssey is a beautifully embellished empty horse.