THE ODYSSEY

Nolan certainly approaches 'The Odyssey' with a keen understanding of his source text, and while some choices or omissions may frustrate purists, there's never a sense that these choices haven't been fully considered or, in some cases, thematically compensated for. The central conceit of the Homeric epic is there: that of how we treat our guests speaks to our own humanity and what it is to be a gracious host, and while this might not seem a particularly exciting dramatic prospect, Nolan spends the film unpacking both why this is an important conceit to this culture and what relevance it can have to us now. Questions of morality are woven throughout both of Homer's epic poems, 'The Iliad' and 'The Odyssey', and any adaptation of these texts only works when those questions are interrogated to the same degree. Perhaps the biggest surprise is that 'The Odyssey' is just as indebted to the core ideals of 'The Iliad' as it is to those of 'The Odyssey' itself, and this, once again, sees Nolan making a contemporary political point.

In many ways, 'The Odyssey' is a companion piece to 'Oppenheimer', as Nolan uses the past to comment on the present in a way we rarely see from him. Odysseus and Oppenheimer are both men haunted by decisions they thought would bring about a greater good, torn asunder by their conflicted feelings over their actions. A shadow looms across the entire film, one we may initially find hard to identify, but its revelation in the final act becomes a thunderous statement about our capacity for violence and greed.

As with so many of Nolan's films, the screenplay is the weakest point here, and in many ways, clarifies why this is a consistent weakness in his work. The screenplay is as structurally playful as we'd expect from him, especially in its use of time, but in this instance, that's as much Homer as it is Nolan, the poem already employing a surprisingly inventive narrative structure that Nolan both honours and expands on. It's the dialogue where things get a bit dicey. There are moments of genuine poetry, but there are also moments of clunky exposition where characters explicitly state subtext that could just as easily be communicated through visual storytelling, or even already is. It's a strange quirk of Nolan's style that the whole construction of his films assumes the intelligence of his audience, but his use of dialogue often panics and spells it all out a step too far.

That Nolan isn't the strongest writer hardly seems to matter, though, as his command of cinematic language is what really matters here, and, again, like 'Oppenheimer', you can feel him pushing his fluency into new and (for him) braver directions. 'The Odyssey' is maybe his messiest film, but effectively so. It literally throttles forward, threatening to topple at any second, giving the strong sense of the tracks being furiously thrown down in front of the train by the skin of its teeth. This propulsion makes the film's immense tension achingly palpable, a mixture of danger and confusion. It's a sensory assault, as horrifying and upsetting as it is stirring and thrilling. There's not an ounce of compromise in the film's experience, and while the contemporary dialogue often feels a bit out of place, the world of the film places us so firmly in an ancient past where not everything can or should be explained.

This is reflected in Hoyte van Hoytema's ('Tenet') cinematography, which favours intimate medium shots over sweeping vistas, all the more confronting in the IMAX format. Sequences at sea are harrowing, supernatural attacks hit like a bolt of lightning, battle sequences take you right to the heart of the action and right into the blade of a sword. Jennifer Lame's ('Oppenheimer') editing is breakneck, favouring short, sharp cuts over a poetic, sweeping rhythm. All of this keeps you on the edge of your seat, breath held in anticipation, and by the time we reach the final act, you're exhausted in the best possible way. If anything, the film feels like it should be a touch longer, just to give it a little more breathing space.

This is also the film where Nolan's inventiveness is at its most thrilling, mostly because, in adapting 'The Odyssey', he has to contend with something he'd previously avoided - the supernatural. His insistence on in-camera effects means that sequences such as the cyclops are remarkable, not just for their sensory impact, but the sheer joy at seeing how he does it. One sequence in the home of Circe was so unexpected and imaginative and diabolical that my jaw hit the floor. He also approaches the cosmic dimensions of 'The Odyssey' with similar imagination and intelligence, acknowledging the presence and importance of the gods while also considering their psychological origins.

The intense intimacy of 'The Odyssey' doesn't rob us of spectacle but instead enhances it, giving it an emotional grounding so that while part of your brain is marvelling at the skill, most of it is reeling from the impact. It feels trite to say, but there are moments in 'The Odyssey' the likes of which haven't been seen in any film in my lifetime, purely because of Nolan's insistence that the camera capture the action as it happens, not added in post. Towering sets, incredible locations, hundreds and hundreds of people on-screen - you can't help but recall 'Lawrence of Arabia' or the Soviet production of 'War and Peace' or 'The Ten Commandments' at times. You know all those bodies in space are real. You know those ships are actually on the ocean, the giant IMAX camera strapped onto the deck for dear life. Death and pain and awe all feel real. The experience of it all is so visceral and immediate and tangible.

That immediacy also plays into the performances, with the whole ensemble of 'The Odyssey' uniformly excellent. Every character feels like they are on the edge of a precipice, facing directly into potential catastrophe, and the exhaustion of this plays across all their faces. Matt Damon climbs a mountain with Odysseus, not just because of the physical demands of the role but the emotional cost he has to chart across the film's epic scope, resulting in one of his best performances. Anne Hathaway channels Penelope's constant waiting into fury and confusion, an anger at being abandoned and undervalued. In fact, despite cutting back on some of the more obvious female-driven moments in the epic, Nolan is careful to give his female characters agency and punch here, arguably the strongest he's given them in any of his films. Samantha Morton is a real standout as Circe, this great actor finally being given material worthy of her powers. She bites and chews and claws at this most complex of characters, equally as moving as she is disturbing. Charlize Theron as Calypso, Lupita Nyong'o as Helen and Zendaya as Athena are also wonderful, but to say more might ruin some of their surprises.

It's also a relief to finally, finally, finally see Tom Holland back in a dramatic role, and he's really wonderful as Telemachus, reminding us just how masterfully he can wield empathy as an actor. Essentially the second lead in the film, he has his own difficult emotional journey to chart, and he does so with care and intelligence. Robert Pattinson ('The Drama'), by contrast, chews with relish every piece of scenery he can get his hands on as Antinous, the most insistent of Penelope's suitors, a bold and camp performance necessary to lift the spirits of the film. Other notable performances include the tremendous Himesh Patel (TV's 'Station Eleven') as Odysseus' right-hand man Eurylochus, John Leguizamo ('Romeo + Juliet') as his dedicated servant Eumaeus and an iconic and terrifying turn from Benny Safdie ('Oppenheimer') as Agamemnon, the monstrous King of the Greeks. One incredibly moving moment comes with Elliot Page ('Inception') as soldier Sinon, both for his place within the narrative and also within the fabric of the film itself. It's Nolan doing something very subtle and very powerful.

The challenge with reviewing a film like 'The Odyssey' is there is so much to talk about and unpack, so many moments that have seared themselves into my brain, but to even mention them would be to ruin the immense satisfaction of watching it for the first time, unaware of what is to come, caught up in the chaos of it. Even having read Homer's epic, there were so many moments that took me by surprise, that left me in shock, that hit me like a crashing wave, not only in how Christopher Nolan has realised the enormity of this great work but in the considered and potent perspective he takes on it. The more I sit with it, the more excited I get and the more eager I become to return to it. With 'Dunkirk' and 'Oppenheimer', Nolan reached the height of his powers. Here, he throws himself into the maelstrom, with everything he has learned, and like Odysseus, fights for dear life.

'The Odyssey' is an immense achievement, even with its imperfections, perhaps even helped by its imperfections. Not only is it rare to see a film of this visual and aural scale rendered with such grit and immediacy, but even rarer to see a contemporary film of this scale so uncompromising in its tone and so resonant in its ideas. It is as old as time itself and startlingly immediate, further proof that the myths we have told ourselves forever, including this story crafted by a poet or poets whose names and lives are lost to the mists of time, persist for a reason, continue to sing to us. Furious, chaotic, monolithic and overwhelming, 'The Odyssey' roars with every frame.