THE ODYSSEY film review

Magnificent moments in search of an epic story.

When audiences leave The Odyssey, they’ll likely be talking about the Trojan Horse, the Cyclops, the sea monsters, and the breathtaking images Christopher Nolan has conjured for the largest screens imaginable. And rightly so. Few filmmakers working today possess Nolan’s ability to stage spectacle on such an astonishing scale. Yet for all its technical brilliance and jaw-dropping visual achievement, The Odyssey left me admiring its individual moments and technical achievement far more than the story connecting them.

About the film: Odysseus (Matt Damon) embarks on a dangerous voyage back to Ithaca following the Trojan War, encountering treacherous creatures like the Cyclops Polyphemus, Sirens, and the gates of Hades.

While few filmmakers have demonstrated the talent and skill to craft motion pictures on the scale and scope of Nolan’s, many have been able to create motion picture offerings truly deserving of the big screen treatment. But, cinema has become so enamored with spectacle that audiences increasingly mistake scale for storytelling. The two are not synonymous. A breathtaking image may inspire awe, but without dramatic architecture it struggles to resonate beyond the moment it appears on screen.

This is the central irony of Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey. Adapting the foundational epic of Western storytelling—a tale whose dramatic framework has influenced literature and cinema for nearly three millennia—Nolan delivers some of the most astonishing imagery ever projected onto a movie screen while simultaneously diminishing the very narrative mechanics that made Homer’s poem endure.

Nolan has long challenged conventional storytelling, but innovation alone neither elevates nor diminishes a work of art. The irony here is especially striking because The Odyssey originates from the civilization that gave us many of the dramatic principles still underpinning Western storytelling. Homer didn’t simply tell an adventure; he created the definitive mythic journey—a narrative whose emotional power comes from watching Odysseus endure one impossible trial after another as he struggles home.

Nolan’s adaptation rarely allows that journey to accumulate. Instead, the film drifts between spectacular episodes much as Odysseus himself drifts across the sea. Each sequence is magnificent in isolation, but the nonlinear structure continually interrupts the dramatic momentum needed for the voyage to feel emotionally cumulative.

For viewers already familiar with Homer’s epic, reconstructing the chronology isn’t especially difficult. For those encountering The Odyssey for the first time, however, the film provides surprisingly little connective tissue or narrative context. Rather than deepening the myth, the fragmented structure often obscures it. As odd as it may sound, the 1990s Wishbone adaptation arguably communicates the story’s emotional architecture more effectively.

Some have dismissed my criticism by suggesting I simply dislike nonlinear storytelling. The opposite is true. Some of my favorite films—including Mulholland Drive, Rashomon, Arrival, Pulp Fiction, Memento, and The Godfather Part II—all abandon linear chronology. What unites those films is that their structures reveal character, reinforce theme, or place the audience inside a unique perspective that chronological storytelling could not achieve. Their nonlinear construction enriches the drama.

Here, Nolan primarily uses a nonlinear structure to reorganize the plot.

That distinction matters, because the result is a film whose storytelling often feels less powerful than its individual scenes. Fortunately, those scenes are truly extraordinary.

One observation from fellow critic Sean Boelman has lingered with me since seeing the film. Sean—who admired The Odyssey far more than I did—suggested that Nolan’s nonlinear structure feels reminiscent of oral storytelling. The more I’ve reflected on that idea, the more I think he’s right. There is a quality to the film that resembles hearing an ancient bard recount Odysseus’ adventures, jumping from one episode to another as memory and emphasis dictate rather than strict chronology.

Where we ultimately diverge is whether that approach serves the medium of cinema. Oral storytelling and visual storytelling are not identical languages. What works around a fire or in the halls of ancient Greece does not necessarily produce the strongest dramatic experience on a movie screen. Cinema possesses tools that oral tradition never could: editing, visual composition, performance, and dramatic pacing that build cumulative emotional momentum. By adopting the rhythms of oral storytelling, Nolan creates an undeniably fascinating interpretation of Homer’s epic, but one that, for me, sacrifices too much of the dramatic architecture that gives the journey its emotional force.

This is what makes The Odyssey such a fascinating film to evaluate. Rarely have I encountered a movie in which spectacle and dramatic architecture diverge so dramatically. As a visual achievement, Nolan’s film ranks among the most impressive epics of the modern era. As a piece of dramatic storytelling, I found it considerably less satisfying.

The Trojan Horse sequence is among the most awe-inspiring moments Nolan has ever filmed. Every set, every landscape, every battle possesses a mythological grandeur rarely seen in modern filmmaking. Watching The Odyssey, I found myself imagining what audiences must have experienced seeing Metropolis or The Ten Commandments for the first time. Those films redefined cinematic scale for their generations. Nolan’s achievement feels similarly monumental.

Which is why The Odyssey absolutely deserves to be seen on the biggest screen available. Whether that’s 70mm IMAX or another premium format matters far less than simply experiencing its overwhelming visual and sonic presentation in a theater. A larger screen won’t solve the screenplay’s structural shortcomings, but it will allow viewers to fully appreciate one of the most ambitious technical achievements of recent years.

Matt Damon anchors the film with quiet confidence, delivering perhaps the strongest performance of the ensemble. He fully inhabits Odysseus, carrying both the physical burden of the journey and the emotional weariness of a man desperate to return home. The remainder of the cast performs capably without leaving much of a lasting impression. Tom Holland never entirely escapes echoes of Peter Parker, Anne Hathaway provides the elegance and composure we’ve come to expect, and Robert Pattinson is surprisingly underutilized. There are no poor performances—only few that linger after the credits.

Ultimately, I suspect The Odyssey will be remembered as one of the year’s biggest cinematic events, and deservedly so. Nolan has once again reminded audiences why epic filmmaking belongs in theaters, where stories of mythic scale can be experienced communally rather than consumed individually at home.

I only wish the storytelling had matched the magnificence of the filmmaking.

For all its extraordinary craftsmanship, The Odyssey left me marveling at its images more than feeling the weight of Odysseus’ journey. In the end, Nolan delivers an unforgettable cinematic experience, but not, for me, an unforgettable telling of Homer’s timeless epic.

Ryan is the morning host on WLRH Public Radio in Huntsville, AL and host of the show  ReelTalk  “where you can enjoy the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

ANTLERS horror film review

Intense! Antlers is a terrifying film that will truly absorb you! See is on the BIGGEST screen with the BEST sound possible. From stunning, terrifying creature effects to thoughtful, provocative commentary on the trauma of grief and loss, this is one of the best films of the year, period. Directed by Scott Cooper and produced by Guillermo del Toro, this highly atmospheric film is based on the novel The Quiet Boy by Nick Antosca. Every element of the mise-en-scene works flawlessly to capture your imagination and take it to some incredibly dark places where you will confront the stuff of nightmares. Del Toro’s eye for the visual storytelling of a darkly fantastic world is witnessed in every frame of this outstanding motion picture. Cooper has clearly worked closely with del Toro in order to combine their various cinematic storytelling methods to craft a modern story steeped in mythology. Keri Russell and Jeremy T Thomas deliver frightening performances; especially Thomas–he is incredibly creepy! Antlers is the type of horror film that is surely gong to find a place amongst the classics in the future. While so many horror films in recent years have included overt sermon-like ideological messages that feel more like a weapon, this film integrates the heavy subject matter exploring the trauma experienced following abuse, grief, and loss into the background, which allows the foreground to remain focussed on the action plot and characters. Furthermore, this film illustrates the power of horror to be able to simultaneously entertain the masses while providing thought-provoking content that manifests ideas that are difficult to talk about or show directly. But through nightmarish imagery, audiences allow themselves to be taken into liminal spaces to overcome the effects of trauma.

A small-town Oregon teacher and her brother, the local sheriff, discover that a young student is harbouring a dangerous secret with frightening consequences.

Prepare for an immersive, haunting world that is both whimsical and ominous, as can only be conceived by the mind of del Toro. While del Toro is not credited as director, clearly Cooper worked closely with del Toro to craft the visual and soundscape design of the film. And as a director that is still early in his career, you couldn’t ask for a better coach along the way. I anticipate that we will see great films from Cooper in the future, especially if he leans into horror and fantasy. From the moment the film opens, the breathtaking cinematography is like an oil on canvas that paints an overwhelming sense of dread that serves as the backdrop for the terror that is about to beset the small Oregon town. Lately, there is a trend to use spectacular cinematography and production design to compensate for weak storytelling (i.e. The Night House), but thankfully the atmosphere in Antlers is just that–the atmosphere–not the sole reason to watch the film. Establishing the tone up front is so very important in order to set the bar for what the audience is going to experience. Everything feels incredibly tangible; there is a dimension that cannot be replicated by CGI. Yes, there is some CGI in the film, but it’s used to supplement what cannot be practically created. And when the world on screen has visual depth, it heightens the level of tension because there is a sense of vulnerability that is evoked within the audience.

Need a creepy kid in your next horror film, then Jeremy T Thomas should be on your casting list! I loved everything about the performative dimension he brought to the screen in his character of Lucas. You believe that he is truly disturbed from the moment you meet him following the traumatic event he experiences in the prologue of the film. He perfectly communicates both vulnerability and defensiveness simultaneously. Keri Russell plays Julia Meadows, Lucas’ teacher. And early on we learn that she is clearly dealing with her own demons, both distant past and more recent present. There is such a significant degree of authenticity in her performance! Much like Thomas strikes that perfect balance in vulnerability and defensiveness, Russell delivers those same traits, but adds in a strength of character that refuses to be sidelined by school officials or her brother, the sheriff. Speaking of whom, Jesse Plemons’ Sheriff is another character that is dealing with the trauma of his childhood, and in a world in which filmmakers seem to actively finding ways to disparage law enforcement, this film delivers a character that, albeit imperfect as we all are, does truly care about his community, but does find the supernatural to be unbelievable until he sees it with his own eyes.

The central theme in Antlers is an exploration of childhood trauma, grief, and loss. Both the characters of Julia and Lucas parallel one another in terms of their respective journeys. Without getting into spoiler territory, both character suffer from childhood trauma. Of course, Lucas is in the midst of his childhood trauma while Julia’s stems from her chronological childhood; however, Julia is dealing with a more recent demon that likely is connected to alcoholism, which is what prompted her relocation from California to Oregon to live with her brother in their childhood home. Lucas appears to have had a hard time since his mother died, which is perhaps what drove his father to cooking and moving meth. And if the death of one’s mother at such an early age isn’t traumatic enough, he continues to experience traumatic grief and loss. We learn early on that Julia also lost her mother at about Lucas’ age, and we get flashbacks to the childhood trauma that eventually caused Julie to leave her brother, and move to California. In order to get into the details, that would require going into spoiler territory, which I don’t want to do in order to preserve the experience of the film.

It’s no spoiler that there is a malevolent entity at the center of this film, and I won’t go into details as to what it is. But what I want to talk about is the outstanding combination of CGI and practical effects that brings the entity to life. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen in recent years. It’s both gruesome and beautiful, all at the same time! And the best part is the reveal! Won’t go into details, but you will be completely in shock and awe at the ALIEN level tension, suspense, and surprise. Like what Spielberg did with JAWS and Ridley Scott did with ALIEN, Cooper and del Toro keep the creature cards close to their chest, so as you get glimpses of the creature, the tension will rise to incredible levels. And this anticipation of getting to see the creature will pay off in spades! Less is more, that is the approach in this film. When the violence and gore hit, they HIT! But because this film is not about the creature, we are able to focus on the characters. Symbolically, the creature is a manifestation of all that we cannot see with the naked eye, but is very much present nevertheless.

You don’t want to miss seeing this masterful horror film on the big screen! If you only vaguely remember the trailer, DON’T rewatch it. Go into this film with just a little knowledge, and you’ll be glad you did. If your experience is anything like mine, then you will undoubtedly be carrying on internal monologues in response to the nightmarish journey through the effects trauma has on the mind and body.

Ryan teaches American and World Cinema at the University of Tampa. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Interested in Ryan making a guest appearance on your podcast or contributing to your website? Send him a DM on Twitter or email him at RLTerry1@gmail.com! If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with him.

Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1