THE STORY – After ten years of war, King Odysseus sets sail for Ithaca, eager to reunite with his beloved. But his journey home is far more treacherous than the battlefield, as he must face deadly monsters and vengeful gods to survive.
THE CAST – Matt Damon, Tom Holland, Anne Hathaway, Robert Pattinson, Lupita Nyong’o, Samantha Morton, Zendaya, Charlize Theron, Benny Safdie, Jon Bernthal, John Leguizamo, Bill Irwin, Himesh Patel, Corey Hawkins, Mia Goth, Logan Marshall-Green, Travis Scott, Eliott Page & James Remar
THE TEAM – Christopher Nolan (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 173 Minutes
Following the immense critical, financial, and awards success of “Oppenheimer,” many wondered what Christopher Nolan’s follow-up film could possibly be. He had reached the pinnacle of the industry after years of making beloved audience and box-office hits, but his historical biopic about a man reckoning with the decision he had made that changed the entire world around him forever felt like a once-in-a-lifetime accomplishment…so naturally he decided to take that same idea and apply it to the most sprawling and influential story of all time, Homer’s mythic, ancient Greek epic the “Odyssey.” Despite all the hits he had made before, from “The Dark Knight” trilogy, to “Inception,” “Interstellar” and “Dunkirk,” it was only through the success of “Oppenheimer” that Nolan and his wife and producing partner, Emma Thomas, felt that they could use the goodwill from that film to convince Universal Pictures to greenlight one of the most audacious, expensive ($250 million budget), and ambitious projects Nolan has ever embarked on. And thank the gods they did. “The Odyssey” is as epic as movies get, with some of the most breathtaking set pieces Nolan has ever attempted. A colossal achievement, even by Nolan’s standards, its commitment to capturing as much as possible in-camera for the first time fully using new IMAX cameras (which allows the entire film to be seen in its intended format without any aspect ratio changes) is a staggering technical feat worthy of this grand yet intimate story of one man’s journey to return home, the burden and consequences of leadership, the eternal struggle between mortals and gods, and the inevitable collapse of civilization through the darkened hearts of men. Though still flawed and definitely not my personal favorite Christopher Nolan film, it contains enough thematic weight, character introspection, and bold filmmaking to make it a vital standout in today’s cinematic landscape and a perfect encapsulation of Nolan’s best and worst tendencies as a storyteller.
After ten years of brutal warfare during the battle of Troy, the legendary King Odysseus (Matt Damon) longs to return to his homeland of Ithaca, where his devoted wife, Penelope (Anne Hathaway), and now-grown son, Telemachus (Tom Holland), have spent the last seventeen years wondering whether he is dead or alive. While Odysseus and the few surviving members of his crew endure a dangerous journey across unforgiving seas, encountering monsters, gods, witches, and temptations that continually test their resolve, Penelope and Telemachus struggle to protect Ithaca from an increasingly desperate group of suitors who seek to claim Odysseus’s throne by forcing Penelope into marriage. With so much time passing, and physical dangers standing between him and home, Odysseus’s toughest obstacle is confronting the moral consequences of the choices he made during and after the Trojan War, forcing him to question whether the man who left Ithaca is worthy of returning to it.
Homer’s “The Odyssey” has endured for nearly three thousand years because every generation has found new meaning within its mythic framework. Christopher Nolan, one of our best filmmakers working today, knows that attempting to recreate the poem beat-for-beat would only preserve it as an artifact rather than allowing it to live again as a piece of reimagined storytelling for a modern audience to consume in 2026. Rather than presenting the tale as a fantasy featuring gods and monsters, Nolan takes some of his best qualities from “Interstellar” and grounds the expansive story in human qualities of love, grief, shame, leadership, accountability, and the longing to return home after becoming someone unrecognizable physically and spiritually to those waiting for you. Despite what many have complained about as being too contemporary an adaptation (The use of the word “dad” instead of “father” and actors speaking in American accents throughout has garnered more publicity than it rightfully should have), this is a thoughtful reinterpretation that feels spiritually faithful while speaking directly to the present anxieties of our own time.
The film opens up with the opening text, “a time of apparent magic…” which symbolizes that for a filmmaker as committed to realism as Christopher Nolan, this will still contain certain elements that he has rarely ever explored in his filmography before, incorporating the fantastical into the practical to create something wholly immersive while still engaging the audience in a sense of awe and wonder through its hand built construction. Such a feat feels just as mythical as the story elements he’s adapting, an accomplishment that only a filmmaker of his stature and clout could pull off in today’s Hollywood, where nearly everyone wants everything done with green screen and visual effects. Nolan has accomplished this before in many of his other films, but never to this extent. So much so that it feels like we’re watching a Hollywood epic in the vein of David Lean or Cecil B. DeMille, and that in and of itself (Like another one of his previous films, “The Prestige“) is a magic trick.
That idea is reinforced immediately afterward, as the film opens with the bard, played by rapper Travis Scott (Who contributes a vibey song over the film’s closing credits), telling the story of Odysseus to both the audience and the gathered suitors in the megaron of Ithaca. It firmly establishes early on another concept: when one tells a story, and it is passed down from one person to the next, from generation to generation, those stories take on a life of their own through embellishment, fading memory, and the passage of time. In many ways, Nolan is doing precisely the same thing. His telling of “The Odyssey” is not interested in replacing Homer’s poem nor treating it as a sacred text that cannot evolve with the times. Nolan is embracing the very tradition that has allowed the epic to survive for millennia, re-telling it in the language of modern cinema while remaining respectful of the timeless ideas that have enabled the story to be told, re-told, re-shapen, and inspire other stories across generations. It’s an elegant framing device (Something Nolan has always excelled at in his screenwriting) that immediately prepares the audience for a film that is as much about the act of storytelling itself as it is the story being told.
One of Nolan’s greatest strengths as a filmmaker has always been his willingness to reshape familiar narratives through nonlinear storytelling, and “The Odyssey ” is yet another natural extension of that fascination. Anyone expecting a one-to-one adaptation of Homer’s poem may at first find themselves disoriented by the way the story is structured, as it jumps between Odysseus’s perspective, Telemachus’s search for his father, and the events of the Trojan War, which slowly reveal the film’s larger themes as the runtime progresses. Like “Memento,” “The Prestige,” “Dunkirk,” and especially “Oppenheimer,” Nolan trusts the audience to join him on the journey and put the pieces of the narrative puzzle together rather than spoon-feeding every bit of it, as so many other filmmakers do today. It is an approach that can feel challenging at first, given how few filmmakers still believe in such a thing anymore. Still, one that ultimately rewards patience, as every narrative thread, much like the tapestry Penelope is weaving in her chamber, gradually comes together into an extremely satisfying whole by the end.
The film’s first act is a bit clunky, as it takes a minute for the narrative to not only be set up but also for the audience to understand how Nolan is letting the story unfold through its nonlinear progression. The second act of the film is where the constraints of adapting Homer’s poem become most pronounced, as the film cannot help but feel segmented, with its frustratingly paced yet still dazzling set pieces. However, the third act of the film is its most triumphant, as Nolan uses everything that came before in acts one and two to give the climax a rousing sense of catharsis that is undeniably crowd-pleasing. He often knows how to land the plane with his endings, and “The Odyssey” is no different, sending audiences out on a high after nearly three full hours, giving them a lot to digest, talk about, and, hopefully, be eager to revisit someday.
Nolan is not deliberately withholding information merely to surprise the audience. Odysseus is dealing with some significant PTSD, and thus, like “Memento,” his memory is fractured, and so, the audience must feel that as well. The more information we have about Odysseus’s time during the Trojan War and his years at sea with his men afterward, the more he conveys to us, and the deeper our understanding becomes, of the decisions that have not only defined this man’s life but will now define the rest of humanity. In that regard, Nolan essentially finds his “why” for telling the story. It’s not about whether or not Odysseus makes it back home, but rather about whether he feels he deserves to.
Telemachus is every bit as essential to the film’s central narrative as his father. It’s refreshing to see Tom Holland take on a role that isn’t Spider-Man and isn’t another studio action film that doesn’t fully tap into what a wonderful talent he can be (Looking at you, “Uncharted“). His work here with Nolan as Telemachus, Odysseus’ son and the Prince of Ithaca, is certainly some of his most mature film work to date, and feels much more focused than some of the other big swings that he has taken in his career (“Cherry“) when attempting to break this public perception of him as Peter Parker and Spider-Man. The story of Telemachus is one of a boy becoming a man. It feels like we are watching Tom Holland do that in real time outside the film, which only adds a meta layer to his performance, and that’s why following the character’s journey back home in Ithaca works almost as well as Odysseus’s own journey overseas. It’s been nearly ten years since the war, and no one seems to know if Odysseus is alive or dead. He has not returned home as some of his other men have, which puts Penelope and Telemachus in a tough position, as Penelope does not wish to remarry because of her undying love for Odysseus. But if Telemachus were to take revenge against the greedy, bloodsucking suitors, their families would rise against them, demand revenge, and he and his mother would be forced into exile. They must play their cards right if they are to maintain control of Ithaca, but also don’t want to give up on the hope that someday Odysseus will return.
If “The Odyssey” has one prominent idea tying together every character, it is what many of the characters refer to as Zeus’ Law. There are undeniable ties to “Oppenheimer” in this film, most unmistakable in the idea of Zeus’ law, which many of the characters discuss. It’s a sacred rule that many in this time used to follow, in which humans were seen as equals and treated honorably and with respect once they entered another person’s home, before they even knew their names. This was mostly done out of fear that it was always possible that anyone coming into your home could be one of the gods in the guise of a human, something Nolan’s “The Odyssey” portrays rather powerfully, especially in the third act. The emotional journey for Odysseus resembles Cooper’s desperate attempt to reunite with his daughter in “Interstellar,” and much like how that movie centered around the idea of Murphy’s Law (Anything that can happen, will happen), Zeus’ Law, and its continuous violation by man, leads to an evolving but absolute change within the world with regards to how we no longer see people as human beings but either as threats, pawns in a game against our own self-interest or as simply lesser than ourselves. Choices are now made out of fear, desperation, pride, and survival instead of out of hospitality, compassion, and understanding. Nolan’s asking if civilization is collapsing due to divine punishment, like Murphy’s Law, where the gods have sealed the fate for all, and there’s nothing mortals can do to stop it, or is it humanity’s gradual abandonment of its own principles that once held them together that is destined to lead to our destruction?
As Odysseus continues to lose his men on their journey back home, he’s repeatedly being told he needs to honor the dead by making sure they receive a proper burial. Much like the breaking of Zeus’s Law, this other act of defiance by Odysseus against the gods, which he justifies by saying stuff like “He died helping us escape. We will honor him by escaping,” puts him in direct opposition to the fate the gods have laid out before him and his men, but one which he refuses to accept. That stubbornness, although it may be seen as valiant by some and heroic by others, is one of many examples that signify what kind of a leader Odysseus is to his men and thus, what kind of a man he is. Much of what “The Odyssey” explores is the responsibility and cost of leadership plagued by survivor’s guilt. Odysseus makes choices that he believes will protect his men, but he’s also willing to make sacrifices if it means the majority of them survive. We see as the story continues how much of an impact this has on Odysseus as the film explores his PTSD from the time of his journey to reckoning with his shame of ever wanting to return home. How can he ever return home and go back to the way things were before he left? He has sent men to their deaths. Men have done horrible things under his command. He’s changed. The world has changed around him. He has a fully grown son who has never even known him back home. We live in a world today that has been shaped by the “original sin,” if you will, of the deception of the Trojan Horse and how man could never be fully trusted again, as was once done in an era defined by Zeus’s Law. “That old world is gone,” as Penelope tearfully tells Telemachus at one point. It would be nice to live in a world today where leaders took accountability for their actions, where their shame forced them into exile, and where they could see their fellow people as equals rather than pieces on a board to be moved and manipulated for their own gain. But we don’t live in that world. Nolan’s examination of this is what makes “The Odyssey” not only worth telling today but also gives it a weight as heavily felt as any found in the haunting ending of “Oppenheimer.” However, it must be said that “The Odyssey” ends on a more hopeful note.
Odysseus wears a pin of Athena on him at all times while he’s away from home, which his wife gave him. It’s one of the film’s recurring visual motifs and a symbol of his promise to return home one day. Its design and role in the story are as important as the spinning totem in “Inception.” Like Nolan’s most memorable symbols, its meaning evolves alongside the character himself, becoming less about certainty than about faith, memory, and the hope that promises made can still survive even after the people who made them have fundamentally changed.
Much of the film’s success ultimately rests on Nolan’s ability to convince us that Odysseus is more than just an invincible hero. Fortunately, both the screenplay and Matt Damon’s excellent performance reject that notion almost immediately. Rather than portraying Odysseus as a larger-than-life conqueror defined solely by his intelligence and battlefield victories, Nolan presents him as a man whose greatest battle has already been fought and whose greatest challenge now lies in living with the consequences of it. Every ounce of suffering he endures becomes another external manifestation of an internal struggle he has spent the better part of a decade trying to outrun. Matt Damon gives one of the strongest leading-man performances of his career as Odysseus, channeling the same masculine yet vulnerable qualities that Russell Crowe so brilliantly displayed in “Gladiator.” It’s a movie-star performance of great depth and emotional intelligence, and, no doubt, one of his most demanding. His screen command offers glimpses into Odysseus’s soul bringing waves of enormous power to a complex role, but what impressed me most wasn’t the endurance required of him during the film’s numerous action sequences (We know Jason Bourne still has some moves in his mid-50s). It was his ability to quietly communicate the accumulating weight of grief, shame, and exhaustion as every decision slowly chips away at his soul, leaving him a former shell of who he once was and will likely never be again.
If Odysseus represents the burden of leadership, Penelope is the embodiment of unwavering hope. It’s been nearly ten years since the fall of Troy, and no one seems to know if Odysseus is alive or dead. He has not returned home as some of his other men have, which puts Penelope and Telemachus in a tough position, as Penelope does not wish to remarry because of her undying love for Odysseus. But if Telemachus were to take revenge against the greedy, bloodsucking suitors, their families would rise up, demand revenge, and he and his mother would be forced into exile. They must play their cards right if they are to maintain control of Ithaca, but also don’t want to give up on the hope that someday Odysseus will return. Anne Hathaway turns in an equally magnetic and moving performance as the steadfast Penelope. She has more than a few emotionally driven scenes where her anguish over the potential loss of her husband, having to possibly remarry, or potentially losing her son to one of the deceitful suitors, affords her many opportunities to showcase her range and deliver a performance that is as great as anything else she’s done in her already accomplished career.
While Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus form the emotional backbone of the story, Nolan surrounds them with a huge ensemble that seldom feels as though it’s simply checking off famous names on a cast list. Instead, nearly every supporting character exists to challenge, reinforce, or reflect one of the film’s main ideas regarding honor, shame, loyalty, temptation, sacrifice, and compassion. Some inevitably leave a stronger impression than others, but very few feel entirely superfluous. John Leguizamo might be my favorite performance in the film overall in a movie that contains a lot of tremendous work from its massive ensemble. There is something heartbreaking about this man’s devotion to Odysseus and to the traditions of Zeus’s Law that give him so many inherent good qualities that you cannot help but find him endearing. His faithfulness resembles that of Odysseus’s hunting dog, Argos, whom Eumaeus has been watching over since he was a young pup when Odysseus left, as they both wait for their master to come home. Himesh Patel, surprisingly, is given a lot to do as Eurylochus, Odysseus’s second-in-command, as he has a lot of screentime in the middle section of the film as he, Odysseus, and the rest of the men encounter the Cyclops, giant soldiers known as the Laestrygonians, and other dangers that force them to butt heads over how to lead the men through this perilous journey. Their relationship becomes one of the film’s strongest dramatic engines in the middle act, grounding the larger spectacle in increasingly difficult moral choices rather than in mere survival. Robert Pattinson is effective as the spineless snake, Antinous, who is manipulating his way to get to Penelope. However, I do wish Pattinson had been allowed to go a bit more eccentric with the performance, as it feels a bit more reined in compared to some other work we’ve seen him do. Even so, Pattinson’s calculated restraint serves Antinous’s cowardice well, making him less an attention-grabbing villain than an opportunistic man flourishing within a kingdom left without its rightful leader.
So much criticism and online discourse surround this movie began because Nolan cast Elliot Page in the film as the one many people thought would be Achilles. But it turns out Achilles isn’t even featured in the film at all. Elliot Page, who previously worked with Nolan on “Inception” 16 years ago, plays perhaps an even more important character, Sinon, a Greek soldier who begins the film with a very brief but impactful scene that only reveals its true rewards later in the story. It’s a small but pivotal role not only for Odysseus but also for Antinous, as he reinforces two major themes of the story: honor and shame.
Nolan has often been criticized for how he writes female characters, and that is felt in The Odyssey, given how many of the characters have very brief roles compared to some of the male roles. Still, there’s also an earnest attempt by Nolan to ensure that those precious moments of screentime leave their mark on the audience, even if some characters are more fully fleshed out than others. Samantha Morton is given one memorable scene as Circe, a witch and goddess from the island of Aeaea, where Odysseus and his men visit in hopes of finding some shelter and food. What they find instead is horrifying, and one of the more convincing scenes of the film in terms of Nolan’s combination of practical filmmaking with other departments, such as visual effects and makeup, to achieve something that does approach the level of weirdness found in Homer’s story, but is so rarely found here. Morton makes the most of her limited screen time. Still, reports from the production have forced some viewers to expect it to be on the level of Heath Ledger’s performance in “The Dark Knight” and they might be disappointed by that expectation despite the fact she’s quite bewitching as she forces Odysseus to confront the truth about his men and himself, that they’re all bloodthirsty, disgusting animals walking the earth acting only in their own self-interest. Another brief role is Zendaya as Athena, the goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft, who protects Odysseus on his journey. She pops into the story here and there, walking alongside Odysseus, speaking with him, trying to guide his way and help him see what he had done that he has long since forgotten. It’s not until the third act, however, that her character’s true purpose is revealed. Charlize Theron is another female character who, aside from Penelope, feels like she had more screen time but had to have her scenes cut down to keep the film’s runtime under three hours, so that the film stock could be properly projected in IMAX theaters.
Like Elliot Page, the casting of Academy Award-winner Lupita Nyong’o as Helen of Troy, described as the most beautiful woman in the world, whose abduction launched the war of a thousand ships, sent the internet into hysteria. Not only was such a reaction unwarranted (Nyong’o is not only one of the best actresses in the world but also one of its most beautiful), but her role is also very reduced compared to what many have possibly built it up to be. Even with playing dual roles as Menelaus’s (Jon Bernthal, exuding pure “Let me tell you something” tough guy energy) wife and Clytemnestra, Helen’s sister and Agamemnon’s wife, her screen time does not and never should’ve warranted this level of racist and misogynistic (Let’s call it for what it is) contempt from those masking their vitriol under the guise of “historical accuracy” (Newsflash: “The Odyssey” is not considered history, but mythological fantasy). She makes quite an impact with the time she is given, but it’s also so sad, in retrospect, how much negative attention this utter fallacy received before the film could officially come out.
Much of “The Odyssey” feels like a self-imposed challenge by Nolan to top what he has given us before in terms of scale, and that enormous aim is evident in the filmmaking itself. There is an obsessive level of dedication to physical reality that is rarely seen in blockbuster filmmaking anymore. The beautiful but harsh landscapes, the tactile quality of the production and costume design. All of it is seen and felt not for opulence’s sake but to help pull viewers in and make them feel transported, giving them an experience that is worthy of the time and money it takes to see something in the movie theater rather than streaming. The fact that all of this was shot practically on a fully functioning ship modeled on the era in which it would’ve been built is remarkable to see play out, and the sound work throughout these sequences is thunderous. However, cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema and Nolan’s decision to shoot some of these sequences in heavy darkness, with no clear sense of geography, harkens back to a stylistic choice he previously made with “Batman Begins,” and he was criticized for it as a director attempting to shoot action sequences. The idea of not being able to see clearly may put you in the characters’ headspace, but it doesn’t always make for the best viewing experience. Surely, there will be a split opinion on this, but I, for one, while respecting its intention, couldn’t help but feel a bit let down by how some of these sequences played out.
And this is an issue I take throughout “The Odyssey,” which is that Nolan has a tendency to want to take a grounded, sensible approach to his storytelling, and while I respect it and it undoubtedly results in some stunning images and sequences because you know they’re as real as real gets and not created within a computer, there are also limitations to this approach that hold it back from capturing the full sense of wonder he’s striving for. An ideal representation of this, done well, is the work of the 90s and early 2000s, when CGI wasn’t as abused as it is today and had to be mixed with practical filmmaking shot on film stock in creative ways. And while “The Odyssey” isn’t fully devoid of any CGI, its use is so minimal and invisible that it often prevents Nolan from being able to fully translate the more imaginary elements of the story in a satisfying manner, such as the depiction of Scylla, a terrifying sea creature who lives in a cave and attacks Odysseus’s men with her 12 tentacle-like legs. However, we never see her 6 long necks, each with a head full of sharp teeth. Anyone expecting that or seeing the bird-like women known as the Sirens, who lure sailors to their deaths with an enchanting song (Despite some impactful sound work in this sequence and an agonizing performance from Damon as Odysseus willingly ties himself to the mast of the ship to hear the song himself, knowing fully well the pain it will bring him), in all their mythological glory, might be disappointed by the more pragmatic approach Nolan takes. I had issues with this in “Dunkirk” as well, where Nolan refused ever to show there were realistically 400,000 men on the beaches of Dunkirk, opting instead to show as many on camera as he could in a shot to give the illusion that there were that many men on the beach. The same thing happened in “Oppenheimer” where the tension and buildup of eventually seeing the nuclear explosion was met with a bit of whimper as he instead shot a non-nuclear explosion (Understandably) practically, rather than allowing the visual effects apartment to capture the sheer size and destruction of a real one…he never succeeded for me in these two films, and he doesn’t fully succeed here.
I do not wish for this criticism to be mistaken for a rejection of Nolan’s methodology, however. If anything, it speaks to the fascinating push-pull that has defined his career for decades. Few filmmakers are more determined to convince audiences that the impossible can exist within the tangible world. Sometimes, as with “The Dark Knight,” “Inception,” and “Interstellar,” that pursuit produces transcendent results. Here, there are moments where the balance tips slightly too far toward realism at the expense of a grander vision. Yet even when I questioned certain creative decisions, I never stopped admiring the conviction behind them. In an era when digital spectacle has become increasingly weightless, Nolan continues to pursue something genuinely admirable, even if his attempt to visualize the more fantastical parts of the story has mixed results. Fortunately, the craftsmanship surrounding these decisions remains extraordinary. Hoyte van Hoytema’s photography consistently finds beauty in real locations and the actors’ faces, shifting between the honest humanity of the performances and the spectacular images of scale that have defined his collaboration with Nolan for over a decade. Ruth De Jong’s production design creates a Bronze Age world that feels authentically lived in rather than romantically exaggerated. Perhaps the greatest accomplishment of all is that none of this technical virtuosity ever feels like an end unto itself. The practical photography, the IMAX presentation, the sound design, the score, the costume design, the makeup, and the visual effects all serve a single purpose: to immerse the audience in Odysseus’s physical and introspective journey. That’s an increasingly rare achievement in blockbuster filmmaking, and one that reminds us why Nolan continues to occupy a place virtually alone among contemporary directors. Special mention, though, needs to be given to Ludwig Göransson, who turns in another unorthodox and memorable score that brings classical and modern music together into something wholly unique. And the soundscape is just thunderous, knowing exactly how and when to dial the overwhelming sound back for maximum dramatic effect. Nolan has long understood that silence can be just as mighty as an action set piece, and “The Odyssey” repeatedly demonstrates that restraint allowing moments to land for their desired emotion, thrills, and, yes, even horror.
There is perhaps no filmmaker working today who was better suited to tackle the enormous challenge of adapting “The Odyssey” than Christopher Nolan. It’s as big as stories and movies can possibly get in this day and age. But it also ties back to Nolan’s previous work, borrowing singular elements from each film and combining them to form what many might consider to be his magnum opus. And they wouldn’t be wrong in sharing that opinion if they’re accounting for sheer scale and ambition. But even though I don’t fully believe all of these elements come together as well as some of his previous work, there is certainly a culmination to be found. The fractured memory of “Memento” is present, the themes of obsession and sacrifice from “The Prestige” are here, as are the layered realities of “Inception” and one man’s desire to return home, also found in “Interstellar.” There’s “Dunkirk’s” struggle to survive against impossible odds, and, of course, “Oppenheimer’s” haunting examination of the burden that comes with making world-changing decisions for what is perceived as the greater good, with consequential ripple effects across all of humanity. Like Odysseus himself, Nolan continues to push both himself and his audience by venturing into unexplored territory, refusing to choose the easier path simply because it exists. While I don’t believe “The Odyssey” surpasses the very best work of his incredible career, its purpose, thematic richness, emotional sincerity, and jaw-dropping craft remind us why he remains one of the few filmmakers capable of making truly original event cinema on this scale. As many know, I grew up loving lavish sword-and-action dramas such as “Gladiator,” “Braveheart,” “The Last Samurai,” and, yes, even “Troy.” Am I biased due to my love for this subgenre? You’re goddamn right I am. But even stacked against these cinematic epics, and despite its flaws, I find Nolan’s dissection of myth and legend looms large over them all in its ideas, purpose, and intent. Whether you experience it in IMAX or a standard theater, this is the kind of filmmaking and storytelling that deserves to be honored.
