This review contains spoilers for The Odyssey (2026).
“Men used to go to war.” This oft-repeated rejoinder has been used as a reply to situations as wide-ranging as bros holding iced matcha lattes to keyboard warrior incels incensed about what feminism has taken from us.
It is, in my understanding, meant as a cutting reminder of how far men have fallen from their species’ glory days, when thousands would willingly leave behind home and family for the gore and grandeur of battle. Christopher Nolan’s retelling of Homer’s Odyssey agrees with the statement. Men used to go to war indeed, and in gloriously shot 70mm IMAX at that.
Then it dares to ask, “And for what?”
The Odyssey, much like Dunkirk and Oppenheimer before it, is a masterfully woven treatise on the futility of war. Matt Damon’s Odysseus is a hero of the Trojan War — the hero, even.
Yet, outside the excellently claustrophobic Trojan Horse scenes, Nolan is more interested in exploring his anguish than his spoils. Odysseus’ grief and devastation over setting off a chain of events he cannot take back are themes that have tragically remained relevant for centuries now.
Cinemagoers who haven’t had time to brush up on their centuries-old classics — or decades-old ones, if you count Percy Jackson — might find themselves treading water for the first third of the film, which drops audiences directly into the nonlinear epic with little clunky exposition to bring them up to speed. This is not counting, of course, Travis Scott (you heard me) as the Bard opening the entire film, retelling the song of Odysseus.
Stuffed to the rafters with previous Nolan collaborators (sadly no Cillian Murphy) including Matt Damon (Interstellar, Oppenheimer), Anne Hathaway (Dark Knight Rises, Interstellar) and Robert Pattinson (Tenet) The Odyssey’s charcuterie board of the best in the biz also extends to composer Ludwig Göransson and Hoyte van Hoytema behind the cameras.
Damon is rugged and haunting in this absolute star turn as Odysseus, who, in a departure from the wilier original, is written as a true-hearted hero whose primary flaw was his unwavering loyalty to his men and his family. I can already see another Oscar nomination in his near future, as do I for Anne Hathaway, whose imperious, pining Penelope blows any naysayers right out of the water.
John Leguizamo is excellent as the faithful swineherd Eumaeus, Pattinson is appropriately slimy as the villainous Antinous, and Tom Holland is clearly enjoying this chance to flex his acting chops after a decade in a lovable Spidey suit. Also, I have zero problems imagining Lupita Nyong’o’s face launching a thousand ships.
One more standout, albeit a slightly overlooked one, is Himesh Patel as Odysseus’ second-in-command, Eurylochus. Patel shines quietly but brightly as the very human Eurylochus, whose eventual doubts about Odysseus could very easily have veered into villain territory. I’m willing to give production the benefit of the doubt for his criminally underused presence in the press rounds, especially when compared to those like Zendaya, whose effective, restrained Athena nevertheless had much fewer minutes on screen than Patel did. Maybe he was off filming a secret Enola Holmes 4; I don’t know.
The elephant in the room for both him and Nyong’o is obviously that neither of them is Greek, which critics have pointed out is not historically accurate. Of course, the same conclusion goes for Damon, Hathaway, Pattinson, Jon Bernthal and all of the other non-Greek cast.
Another gripe for many is the American accents uniformly applied to these characters from Greek mythology when everyone knows that all the glorious empires of Hollywood speak exclusively in British accents. Personally, it wasn’t too much of a turn-off for me; in fact, when Penelope and Telemachus talked about being part of the “greatest civilisation we’ve ever known” even as chaos overshadowed their lands, the blissful confidence that they were immune to falling seemed even more fitting when delivered in an American accent.
What I was puzzled by, however, was the speed at which some of the characters seemed to be talking; there was little opportunity for the lines to breathe, and dialogue delivery seemed rushed in places, as if trying to keep pace with the ruthless, almost trailer-like editing of the first act. Some cuts seemed so sudden that I wondered (incorrectly) if my country had censored out some bits.
Thankfully, the third act more than made up for any lack, and Nolan tied up any loose ends with a darkly gilded bow. Bar one or two scenes where the curse of nighttime lighting has struck again, the general colour grading was better than I expected, especially the crisp, gorgeous blues of the sea. Given Nolan’s famous aversion to AI, there was a relief in knowing this incredible display of creativity came primarily from practical effects and shooting on location. If this were the 2010s, I would be on my fifth rewatch of the second DVD with all the ‘making of’ extras and director’s commentary.
Homer understood that glory and grief were inseparable. Nolan understands it too, which is why The Odyssey still feels painfully modern. Odysseus is granted every bit of the epic hero’s journey promised by legend — the gods, the impossible victories, the grotesque but sympathetic witch who moulds living men into animals with her bare hands — only for none of it to compete with the weight of his deeds and his loss.
For in the end, the real tragedy and victory of The Odyssey are not that Odysseus went to war, but that he survived it.
