I’m making an entrance like a long-forgotten rapper from the 2000s who’s suddenly decided that now is the perfect time to become relevant again by making AI-generated music instead of bothering with morally obsolete things like recording cassettes, CDs, or vinyl (depending on how far back in time you’d like to go), just to tell you … that I actually have nothing to tell you. I can, however, tell you a few other things, which sound suspiciously like the instructions you’ll get from the next online agent you’re about to chat with – or, in this case, the one you’re about to read:
- You will never see anything generated by artificial intelligence on this website – well, apart from the occasional English translation, but that’s only because I’m too lazy to think that much. My native language is already poor enough, if we’re being honest.
- This website will continue to exist, no matter how rarely it gets updated, simply because.
- Actually, no. Besides serving as a wonderful archive that I can laugh at years later, it also fulfils a far more important role – it’s a place where I can freely pour out my nonsense and hope that at least someone might read it, have a laugh (or at least crack a smile), or maybe even find a way to get in touch just to tell me how terrible I am – or, why not, to chat about films and gaming. 🙂
- With all of the above in mind, I can confidently say that from this point forward, I’ll do my best to make everything you read here the opinion of one simple viewer (that is, both casual and simple-minded), rather than another groundless attempt at criticism or reviewing things that may very well be beyond my intellectual capabilities to fully understand and properly appreciate.
And now, after that brief lyrical detour, let me make another one. The year was 2012, and a somewhat grown-up Marto was incredibly excited to watch “The Dark Knight Rises” that summer. In fact, he was so excited that afterwards he decided to try writing some kind of commentary about it (I wouldn’t exactly call it a review, even though I genuinely tried). That was the beginning of a saga spanning several different websites where Marto fancied himself a critic (and I’d even say he was doing a pretty decent job) before eventually moving on to maintaining one of his own. To my sincere regret, a large portion of everything I’ve written over the years has been (perhaps) irretrievably lost across countless hard drives, computers, laptops, and different versions of Microsoft Office that played host to my creative genius. But I hope that if I ever manage to recover even part of it, it will absolutely find its way into the archive here. If we can’t review films properly, we can at least have a proper laugh at ourselves, can’t we?
For those of you who haven’t read the book – it should be known that these are Odysseus and his sister <insert-a-fun-name-here>, apparently this joke doesn’t work as well in English as in Bulgarian.
But why am I telling you all of this? Looking at the title, you’re probably wondering whether I’ve mixed up the post. In reality, all I’m trying to say is that Christopher Nolan was, in one way or another, the person who inspired me to start scribbling these little texts in the first place (yes, I’m a Batman fan – especially his Batman). Lately, though, everything that makes its way to the big screen either gets skipped altogether, bores me to tears, or simply fails to give me the slightest incentive to sit down and think about what on earth I’ve just watched. For better or worse (especially for you), Uncle Chris went and released a new film, I went and watched it, and then, just to make matters worse, I actually liked it – a lot. So, enough philosophising. Let’s talk about Odysseus’ odyssey, why I’ve regained my faith that going to the cinema is still worth it, and why paying for popcorn and a Coke that cost about as much as the IMAX ticket itself (sad, but true) might still be money well spent.
I don’t know how many of you have actually read the book (after all, it wasn’t compulsory reading at school, only recommended), and to be honest, even my own memories of it have faded somewhat. I do, however, clearly remember the major beats of the story, as well as the fact that it was probably one of the most captivating adventure myths (and books in general) that I read during my school years. “Troy” certainly left a lasting impression on me when I was twenty years younger (it was actually one of the first films I ever saw at the cinema), although reading “The Iliad” afterwards felt more like an obligation than a pleasure. “The Odyssey”, on the other hand, resonated with me much more – especially now that I realise Wolfgang Petersen’s film has earned its legendary status more because of its remarkable cast, the sheer scale of the historical production for its time, and, to some extent, a healthy dose of nostalgia than because of its adaptation of the timeless story of the Trojan War. Then again, the comparison isn’t particularly relevant anyway, considering how little of the war this production actually covers (and rightly so). I merely wanted to illustrate the kind of scale we’re talking about. And in that respect, Nolan’s film can be summed up, for me, in two simple words: an epic epic.
Simply for scenes like this one, shot with almost no computing help but rather with practical effects and perfect camera work, it’s worth watching the film.
Yes, the repetition above was entirely intentional. “The Odyssey” is an epic in the literary sense of the word, and it is epic in my eyes in every other aspect as well. The film is monumental in its storytelling, cinematography, direction, and cast, while also being a spectacular feast for the senses from a viewer’s perspective. Christopher Nolan once again proves why, despite the controversies that inevitably surround every one of his films (especially the more recent ones), he knows how to tell grand stories, present contrasting points of view, spark reflection, discussion, and debate, and raise questions about issues that are just as relevant today as they were in the eras in which his stories take place. Odysseus’ journey home is as much a long, twist-filled adventure as it is a moral tale about the price of our choices, the crossing of ethical boundaries, and the pursuit of redemption – if redemption is even possible.
If we take a brief look at the plot without venturing into unnecessary detail (although anyone who has read the poem more or less knows what to expect), I actually think the runtime – which initially struck me as rather long – is, in the end, almost too short to tell the story with all of its richness and nuance. Still, that’s an entirely understandable decision, considering modern audiences’ tolerance for sitting in one place and staring at the same screen for too long (provided it isn’t a phone, of course), the practical limitations of IMAX projection, and the fact that we’re ultimately talking about an adaptation of a poem that itself retells events which may – or may not – have actually happened.
And this is precisely where I have to address the biggest controversies that surfaced before the film’s release. No, Elliot Page does not play Achilles. Yes, Achilles isn’t in the film at all (which also makes perfect sense, but that didn’t stop the speculation). Yes, Lupita Nyong’o plays both Helen and her sister, Clytemnestra. So what? I agree that the ancient Greeks weren’t exactly with a darker skin colour, but at the end of the day we’re talking about a work of fiction – the story of Odysseus’ life is every bit as fantastical as it is historical. Let’s not forget that we’re discussing a poem written nearly 3 000 years ago, depicting events said to have taken place another 500 years before that, with no shortage of divine intervention and supernatural powers thrown into the mix. Besides, we live in an era where creative decisions like these are practically inevitable and sometimes even take on political dimensions, but that’s not what today’s discussion is about. My focus here is purely on the film’s merits – I simply wanted to acknowledge this as something that’s perfectly ordinary in 2026. But enough about that – there’s no point digging any deeper. The important thing for you to know is that all of these supposedly controversial casting choices have virtually no impact on the story, and their screen time is so negligible that by the end of the film you’ll probably have forgotten they were even there.
Matt Damon – the person who seems to always need saving, one way or another.
More importantly, though, you should simply sit back and enjoy everything else the film has to offer, because trust me – it’s well worth it. You don’t have to be sold on Matt Damon as Odysseus, or on the increasingly common Holland – Zendaya pairing, or on John Bernthal’s rather unconventional take on Menelaus. Beyond them, the cast is packed with familiar faces, many of whom have already worked with Nolan on previous projects, so while some of his casting choices may seem unusual, they’re hardly surprising. Sure, there are a few other odd creative decisions as well – for example, ships that look more Viking than Hellenic, and Agamemnon’s slightly over-the-top armour, which I’m not entirely sure is meant to signify royal status or simply function as glorified advertising without offering its wearer any actual protection. There are also scenes and characters that, for one reason or another, have been cut altogether, reduced to the bare minimum, or, at best, significantly altered compared to the source material. But most of those omissions are unlikely to bother less demanding viewers, a category I happily count myself among. Aside from the points I’ve already mentioned, I found Athena a little unnecessary, at least in the way she was used. I much preferred how the powers of Zeus and Hades were portrayed, for example. On the other hand, the metaphor involving the girl from Troy towards the end of the film was an inspired way of embodying Odysseus’ guilt and his transgression of moral and ethical boundaries.
Despite those reservations, however, and despite the lingering questions surrounding some of the casting decisions, I have to single out superb performances such as Penelope and Antinous. Robert Pattinson, it seems, is becoming exceptionally good at playing villains, and both characters made the scenes without the protagonist every bit as compelling as those with him. Even though I knew what was going to happen for most of the film, the story kept me on edge almost constantly, eagerly anticipating what would come next. Nolan has always loved playing with the way he presents a story – especially the order in which events unfold – and although there aren’t many genuinely confusing moments here that need to be pieced together afterwards, the abundance of flashbacks, combined with the fact that the film essentially begins in the middle of the story, greatly enhances both the main narrative and all of its interconnected subplots.
Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy …
And because I’ve once again wandered off into unnecessary rambling when all I wanted was to tell you something simple, let me leave you with a few reasons why you should give Nolan’s odyssey a chance, regardless of whatever expectations – or prejudices – you bring into the cinema with you:
- IMAX is almost mandatory, and not because you’ll inevitably come across countless comparisons online showing how much of the frame gets cropped on a regular screen. It’s simply because the film was conceived, shot, and marketed as an IMAX experience, and the difference is absolutely noticeable.
- The soundtrack is phenomenal. Ludwig Göransson is an insane talent, and once again delivers a flawless collaboration with Nolan. The score amplifies the feeling of the unfolding dramatic epic tenfold. Not to mention that, at times, the sheer power of the music had the seats vibrating so much it almost felt like a 4D screening.
- One of the film’s greatest strengths is its use of practical effects. As big a Marvel fan as I am (not that they haven’t been releasing some rather questionable films lately, but that’s a discussion for another day), the near-total absence of CGI is a huge asset. It’s a wonderful reminder that seemingly simple filmmaking techniques, combined with real physics, real human bodies, carefully chosen locations, and authentic costumes, can achieve results that are every bit as breathtaking as a computer-generated spectacle.
The truth is that, no matter how much critics praise it – or, at times, tear it apart – “The Odyssey” probably won’t end up being everyone’s Film of the Year. For some people, myself included, it will undoubtedly be among the favourites. For others, it’ll land somewhere at the opposite end of the spectrum. Some won’t even give it a chance because of their own preconceptions. Whatever your opinion may be, though, one thing is certain to me: Nolan’s summer blockbuster is the cinematic experience of the year. It reminded me why films deserve to be seen on the biggest screen possible and just how thought-provoking, engrossing, and exhilarating cinema can still be. And just as Homer’s works have been studied and analysed for millennia, I believe this modern interpretation of the King of Ithaca’s journey has every chance of leaving a lasting mark on the industry as a benchmark for truly great filmmaking.
