Christopher Nolan’s adaptation of The Odyssey is melancholic and brutal. It leans into the darker aspects of Homer’s epic and its characters. The destruction of Troy and the suitors’ abuse of Odysseus’ family hang over the film like an ominous cloud. The mischievous warrior-trickster Odysseus is all but absent. In his place is a disillusioned veteran with PTSD who just wants to get himself and his men home.

Time Slicing

The slicing, dicing, and rearranging of time that has become a hallmark of Nolan’s films is back and done with great impact, especially when it comes to the destruction of Troy. The movie’s pacing feels rushed and includes as much as possible with some creative combinations of events from the book. Regrettably, the film rarely lingers or lets you soak in any one environment or scene. It relentlessly marches forward to the climax.

Breaking Zeus’ law

At its heart, this movie is about what we owe to each other—even our enemies. The Trojan horse becomes the quintessential symbol of breaking that sacred obligation—Zeus’ law, the golden rule, whatever you want to call it. This travesty enables Odysseus and his men to enter Troy disguised as a gift of peace. They then kill the guards and open the gates to Darth Agamemnon and his army who enter and let loose 10 years of pent-up rage on the unsuspecting Trojans. Nolan’s Odysseus is haunted by the destruction and war crimes his scheme makes possible. It is after these events that Odysseus’ men are marked for death by the gods.

Defying the gods

Odysseus delays, bargains, and tries in vain to defy the gods’ retribution by attempting to save his men and return them home. Surprise, he only delays the inevitable and all of his men end up dead. Odysseus is shipwrecked and spends 7 years with Calypso until she realizes he’ll never love her as much as Penelope and decides to help him recover his mind and return to Ithaca.

Aiding the gods

Odysseus returns home in disguise to check things out before revealing himself. This part of the film moves quickly in wrapping up loose ends and showing the viewer that Odysseus has learned the lesson Athena was trying to deliver to him throughout the story. The bill finally comes due. Odysseus becomes the gods’ instrument in delivering justice and death to the suitors who have desecrated his home (not unlike the Greeks’ destruction of Troy) and disrespected his family. Scales balanced, Odysseus sails off into the sunset with Penelope leaving Telemachus to lead civilization out of the bronze age and into a better dawn.

Conclusion

The surface, feel, sound and visuals are stunning. The practical effects and use of analog film make it feel more real and visceral than any movie I’ve seen in a while. It’s quite easy to suspend your disbelief for the 3-hour run time and immerse yourself in the world all these combined elements create. The themes explored are compelling and many of Nolan’s adjustments made the story more cohesive as a whole.

That said, I don’t think it’s a world I’ll revisit often. The genre mixing of action, horror, and drama never quite gelled for me. While it ends on a hopeful note—the feelings that pervade this adaptation are heavy and foreboding. The overall effect is an epic that doesn’t feel sweeping and expansive, but walled in and smothering.

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
—Friedrich W. Nietzsche

I’ve always loved a good monster. I remember begging my parents to let me watch Jurassic Park for the first time. They finally acquiesced, with the promise that my older siblings would cover my eyes for the worst parts. I watched those parts through their fingers and kept my feet off the ground in case a velociraptor was chilling under it—you can’t be too careful.

I had nightmares for weeks, and I immediately wanted to watch it again.

What can I say?

Sometimes, we are our own worst enemy. Sometimes we make our own monsters. The power of the monster in any story is measured in how much courage, resilience, grit, sweat, blood, and tears must be summoned to face, vanquish, or transform it. A hero is only as good as its monster.

Here are three works that explore monsters of our own making in one way or another.

#1

📖
Frankenstein (1818)
by Mary Shelly

“I will revenge my injuries: If I cannot inspire love. I will cause fear…”

Here’s a woman-made monster. Women can make monsters, too! I only just got around to reading Frankenstein in October. It’s a haunting masterpiece whose themes are as relevant today as they ever were. How did this novel come to be? Basically, Lord Byron challenged a bunch of writer types to a ghost story contest, and our girl, Mary, made fools of everyone. That’s what happened. Don’t believe it? Look it up.

In this novel, Shelley explores ideas such as the danger of ambition, what the creator owes creation and vice versa, the effects of isolation, and much more. I couldn’t get this African proverb out of my head after reading it: “The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.” The depth and complexity of this work are all the more astounding when you realize she was 18 when she wrote it.

#2

📖
The Tiger: A True Story of Vengeance and Survival (2010)
by John Valiant

“The impact of an attacking tiger can be compared to that of a piano falling on you from a second story window. But unlike the piano, the tiger is designed to do this, and the impact is only the beginning.”

When you push nature, it pushes back. A Tiger in Siberia goes man-eater after being shot at one too many times. While this book is non-fiction, it reads like a thriller. Valiant retraces the steps of the tiger as well as the anti-poaching inspector, Yuri Trush, called in to end the tiger’s rampage. If you think the tiger is resilient, wait till you meet the people who inhabit one of the harshest environments on the planet. Those people are tough as hell.

This book offers vital lessons for coexisting peacefully with apex predators—essential for maintaining the balance and health of our ecosystems. Care about nature? This one’s for you. Are tigers your favorite animal? This one’s for you.

#3

🎥
Godzilla Minus One (2023)

“This next battle is not one waged to the death, but a battle to live for the future.”

The heavyweight champion of monsters is back, and this time it’s personal.

Japanese filmmaker Takashi Yamazaki brings Godzilla back to its roots as a metaphor for the destructive power of the atomic bomb. This film received an Oscar for Best Visual Effects, but it isn’t spectacle for spectacle’s sake—unlike almost every American take on Godzilla. (Shots fired. Sorry, not sorry.)

The score and film take cues from Godzilla (1954) but explode it into something infinitely more epic and heartfelt. The pacing is reminiscent of old World War II movies. The film takes its time introducing the key characters, and simply put, you actually care about them. The characters' stories are centered, not used for weak stitching between mind-melting, never-ending action sequences with zero emotional payoff or consequence to the plot. Each action sequence is measured and more compelling as a result.

At its heart, this film is about a Japanese kamikaze pilot who fails in his mandate and is haunted by his failure to act. It explores the meaning of courage, sacrifice, and honor—the most human Godzilla movie yet.

If you’ve read or watched any of the above or have other recommendations, spill it. I'd love to hear your take in the comments.