There are many scenes in The Odyssey that linger in the mind, long after the film ends.
For example, the cursed victory of Matt Damon’s Odysseus as the gates of Troy are finally opened, unleashing a flood of bloodthirsty soldiers, or the strange pity invoked by the man-eating cyclops, as lonely and pathetic as he is monstrous.
One scene in particular stands out as the film’s most powerful, and most disturbing.
The Most Disturbing Scene Of ‘The Odyssey,’ Explained
Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey follows Odysseus and his men as they flee from one island to another, encountering surreal dangers each time they touch dry land.
As the men grow increasingly desperate for food, they are drawn towards the mysterious island of Aeaea. As the crew embark and explore, it’s obvious that something is wrong.
Lions and tigers are lounging around the hills. Islands are not known to support large predators, but the big cats prove to be less dangerous than the sole human inhabitant.
As Odysseus goes off hunting, his second-in-command, Eurylochus (Himesh Patel) enters the home of Circe (Samantha Morton), to beg for the hospitality of Zeus.
At first, Circe is terrified, and for good reason—a defenseless woman whose home has been invaded by a group of hungry soldiers. Who knows how far their appetites go?
However, Eurylochus assures her that the men mean no harm and that they are only looking for food. Hearing this, Circe relaxes—she has plenty of food. A large pot of stew hangs above the fire, despite there being no one else on the island.
She only asks that they remove their weapons and armor. To the men, this seems like a fair request, but they are slightly alarmed by the rusting equipment piled in her garden.
The red flags are ignored, and they sit down to eat. Immediately, the cursed stew takes hold and the men are overtaken by unbearable hunger, unable to stop eating.
At this point, Christopher Nolan’s preference for practical effects over CGI results in some seriously unsettling movie magic, as Circe walks around the table, gripping each soldier and shaping them into pigs.
Anne Hathaway (who plays Penelope, Odysseus’s wife) describes the scene as “a highlight of the film” and says she was shocked to learn that the transformation was completely practical.
Clever blocking, strong acting and carefully placed prosthetics combine to create a terrifying illusion, in which Circe’s spell feels uniquely violent.
She tugs at the men’s skin, forcing animal features into their faces as though she’s working with clay.
This particular scene has been depicted before, and has inspired similar scenes (most famously in Spirited Away), but the magical transformation has rarely felt so visceral.
Meanwhile, Odysseus manages to shoot down a deer, and is horrified to see it transform into a naked man, revealing the truth of the island. He rushes to Circe’s hut and realizes what has happened.
In another chilling twist, Odysseus guesses that Circe’s caged raven is actually her sister, transformed and trapped.
As Odysseus tries to convince Circe to free his men, the witch makes an uncomfortably good point.
What Does Circe Say To Odysseus?
Circe reminds Odysseus that to the innocent people of Troy, his men are unrepentant rapists and murderers.
As Circe sees it, the men were already pigs—she merely restored them to their true form. Perhaps pigs (who are generally intelligent, gentle creatures) do not deserve the comparison, but otherwise, is Circe really wrong?
There are no innocent soldiers in The Odyssey, and Odysseus understands that. He is forced to concede, but asks Circe if his men harmed her, specifically.
Circe admits that they did not (although, one is left to wonder what would have happened if she had refused them).
Circe agrees to reverse her curse, whispering, “back to your disguises” as she transforms the pigs into men.
Circe’s scene underlines the horror and unrelenting violence of the world that Nolan is depicting, as well as the steep moral decline sparked by Odysseus’s actions.
Circe’s deception reminds viewers that these men are not heroes, calling into question whether they actually deserve to make it home. Ironically, their fateful, final sin is comparatively tame.
The disturbing transformation, followed by the film’s sudden shift into moral ambiguity, marks the point where The Odyssey faithfully reflects the darkness of Greek mythology.
For his next film, perhaps Christopher Nolan should try his hand at horror.
