Chicasinmiedo

I first read The Odyssey when I was around ten or twelve years old, and ever since then it has been my favorite book, alongside Don Quixote. When the news broke that Nolan—a director whose work I admire for its originality and distinctive touch—was going to adapt it, I kept my expectations in check, but they never really disappeared. The opportunity we were being presented with was simply too exciting.

After letting the film sit with me for a few days, I still find myself agreeing with many of the first impressions I had while watching it and as I walked out of the theater.

One of the things I appreciated the most was how grounded everything felt. The mythology, the world itself… it all felt surprisingly earthly. At first glance, that might seem counterintuitive given that one of the defining features of Homer's epic is the presence of gods and mythical creatures. Yet Nolan chose to approach the story with a much more realistic sensibility, and at times, an almost handcrafted quality.

The production design was among the film's greatest strengths. Not because Nolan was aiming for sheer spectacle, but because he relied on tangible locations and practical sets that completely immersed you in the world. The opening sequence with the famous Trojan Horse is a perfect example. They literally built an enormous wooden horse and left it stranded on a beach, waiting for the Trojans to find the offering.

I also found it both interesting and effective that several scenes showed the Greek army hidden inside the horse, and that the soldiers' experience before making it through the city's walls wasn't only threatened by the possibility of being discovered and exposing the deception, but also by the terrible hardships they endured, such as the risk of drowning or having to live surrounded by their own filth. Right from the beginning, the film makes it clear that there is nothing glorious about war, nor should it ever be romanticized. And yes, this may be one of Nolan's own interpretations, and one that differs from the original epic poems, but I don't think that's a mistake on his part.

I also think that the decision to begin the story, after the brief introduction, on Calypso's island was a very clever one, as it lays the first foundations for Odysseus' character development in this adaptation. As viewers, whether we know the original story or not, we accompany Odysseus as he (re)discovers who he was before washing ashore on that remote island, recovering and piecing together the remains of his ship (his identity, symbolically).

And Athena, despite Odysseus no longer recognizing himself, is always by his side, like a ghost of the traumas from his past that, paradoxically, he is trying to bury in the deepest corners of his memory in order to avoid suffering, by consuming the lotus flower.

When Odysseus and his crew eventually reach the island of the Cyclops Polyphemus, we get one of the "horror sequences" I'd heard so much about before seeing the film. I have to say, I really liked Nolan's interpretation of Poseidon's son. It's one of the few openly fantastical moments in the movie, yet it never felt out of place with the grounded tone established beforehand.

And yes, I know. I know many people were disappointed that the famous "Nobody" exchange wasn't included. Believe me, I was waiting for that brilliant piece of dialogue too, the one that perfectly showcases Odysseus' cunning! But… I understand! I can see why Nolan chose to streamline the Cyclops episode! As iconic as it is, keeping that entire subplot might have disrupted the pacing without serving the central emotional journey the film wanted to tell.

Another of those horror-inspired sequences takes place on Circe's island. Once again, I have to praise how "handcrafted" her magic feels. There are no magical mists or sparkling dust transforming men into pigs. Instead, Circe physically reshapes their faces and bodies with her own hands. The entire sequence—from Odysseus stalking a deer, to his crew feasting on the meat, the sounds of pigs squealing, and the horrifying realization that Odysseus had unknowingly hunted a man instead—builds tension so effectively that it became one of my favorite scenes in the entire film.

Speaking of favorite scenes, I have to mention the journey into the Hades. There are no gigantic gates, no rivers of fire, no enormous three-headed dog waiting at the entrance. Instead, the characters gather on a barren, black shoreline, and somehow that's enough to make the entire place feel profoundly supernatural without ever breaking the film's grounded aesthetic. It's here that part of Odysseus' emotional and psychological conflict is explored through Sinon's appearance and his reproach for having been used by Odysseus for his own selfish ends during the Trojan War.

As the story progresses, after Odysseus has lost every member of his crew and finally begins recovering all of his memories, Athena appears before him once again. Yet he continues rejecting the gods, because accepting them would also mean accepting what he did at Troy.

(I should also mention the beautiful pantheistic metaphor presented through Athena, regarding the role the gods play in the world. They do not summon lightning, control the seas, start wars, or create love; they are the very manifestation of all those concepts. Concepts that Odysseus has been running away from ever since what happened at Troy.)

It is then revealed that, at least in my interpretation, in the film's final Troy sequence, as Odysseus watches the city's destruction, consumed by fatalism and guilt, he comes to understand that the horrors wrought by mankind culminate in the destruction of an entire civilization, along with its traditions and history. And, ultimately, in the desecration of its temples—including Athena's—as well as the execution of an innocent priestess, whose face and presence continue to haunt him as a reminder of his sins.

Disguised as a beggar, and having accepted his past and stopped defying the gods, Odysseus recounts the fall of Troy to his beloved Penelope, who still doesn't know—although she has begun to suspect—that the man before her is, in fact, her husband.

(And a special mention for Argos, Odysseus' dog. That scene has stayed with me ever since I first read The Odyssey, and I'm so glad Nolan chose to include it.)

Before wrapping up my first impressions of Nolan's film, I'd like to share one final thought.

I know the movie hasn't convinced everyone. Some people have criticized its pacing, its historical liberties, or the fact that it isn't a faithful adaptation of Homer's Odyssey. Those are all perfectly valid criticisms.

That said, I believe that any adaptation deserves to be judged not only by how faithfully it follows its source material, but also by whether its own creative vision stands on solid ground.

Films like Frankenstein (2025), The Count of Monte Cristo (2002)—one of my favorite childhood films, which I still revisit every now and then—or The Prince of Egypt —which I genuinely consider DreamWorks' masterpiece—, all take meaningful creative liberties while remaining coherent works in their own right. I think there's great value in experiencing a director's interpretation—and sometimes even their subversion—of a classic story.

(If you asked me for an example of a work that makes its own creative decisions but whose foundations feel shaky at times, I would unfortunately point to House of the Dragon.)

Despite a few personal complaints I have with the film, I'd probably give it an 8/10.

Nolan did a fantastic job, as did the cinematography and the rest of the creative team. I don't think it's the director's best film, nor is it my personal favorite (that would still be Interstellar), but I do think it's a film well worth watching, and I'm already looking forward to having the chance to see it again.