POPCORN REVIEWSS

Adapted from Homer’s Greek Epic saga of the same name, and written by Christopher Nolan, one of the earliest themes explored in The Odyssey remains that of trauma – interestingly set over different timelines, in a narrative that is deliberately designed to be non-linear such that the drama doesn’t appear to be episodic. When you are introduced to Penelope (Anne Hathway) and Telemachus (Tom Holland) – it is grief, trauma and uncertainty that binds the two characters together. The layer of uncertainty erupts from the fate of Penelope’s husband and Telemachus’ father – Odysseus, who hasn’t returned years after the Trojan war has ended. This also extends to the idea of having to provide a new ruler to their land Ithaca – prompting Penelope to contemplate on finding a suitor for herself, an understated form of patriarchy that still finds its presence today.

It is interesting on how her character hides behind the endless weaving of the burial shroud – a metaphor not only of endurance and patience, but also of a character restricted in a cage of her own. This, while having to endure the rovering eyes of a shady suitor Antinous (Robert Pattinson), one of the many others interested in claiming his stakes to the thrown. In the same breath, Telemachus is also driven by a purpose of angst – trying to model his personality on his father that he hasn’t met, while severely lacking the leadership qualities of claiming the throne. Ironically, it is the protagonist that accounts for an emotional hinge in the narrative, almost tapping into flashes of his past journey that would pave way for the road ahead.

The linking factor remains that of trauma – even as you are acquainted with frequent bouts of flashback that severely point towards this trait that has plagued the memories of the character. And yet there is a line in its original source material that wishes to tell the story of a complicated man. One look at his past, and you know that Odysseus is indeed that person – ambitious, corrupted, unempathetic, and arrogant, all in the same breath.

While the trojan horse can be viewed as an imagery of betrayal, you notice the arrogance of the protagonist when he wishes to sway away from his fleet of ship. His idea remains to explore and conquer without accounting for basic moments of empathy for either his men, or the ones being plundered. And thus the burden of ending a civilization isn’t realised by him at the start, even as he voyages the dark seas in what formulates the dark side of homecoming – something that he would realise only years after he reaches his ultimate destination.

One of the other themes of the narrative remains a commentary between civilization and barbarism. And the same is inferenced through Zeus’ law that states on how a guest must be treated with empathy the same way as you are expected to be treated. But this very law is repeatedly breached by the protagonist – one through the trojan horse that was positioned to be a symbol of peace before the betrayal, or even plundering the home of Cyclops (Polymephus; also viewed as psychological barriers of war). The latter has parallels with the battle of Troy, or even through the passage involving the suitors at Penelope’s palace – wherein the ‘guests’ violate the Zeus’ law – by killing people and the livestock, and gobbling down food. 

Ironically, the protagonist’s men get a taste of their own medicine when Polymephus begins to eat his own men in the similar manner in which they violated Troy. Or even in another instance involving a witch, that transforms Odyssseus’ gluttony-induced men to pig for showcasing barbarism. This, even there is a scene that reflects on the arrogance of the protagonist – unwilling to give his men a proper burial, while also invariably challenging Poseidon (God Of Water), while attacking Polymephus. But in the next instance with the witch, you see a softer approach that signals the growth of his character. But gluttony with regards to his men is not only linked with barbarism but also the lack of discipline – ironically being the cause of their downfall.

The themes with respect to acceptance go hand-in-hand with the psychological baggage carried by the protagonist. It is interesting on how the latter is tackled through specific objects of ego, frailty and trauma – the sirens that represent the validation of the past for the protagonist, or the blue lotus that accounts for a numbing form of comfort. Or even the consistent ‘invisible’ presence of Athena (Zendaya) – whose statue was beheaded by the protagonist and his army in Troy. And yet, the moments of healing and acceptance tilt tides towards his home – making the realisation beautifully simplistic and complex at the same time.

The final act is not only a commentary on redemption and reunion, but also that of closing the loop of the Zeus’ law that had been repeatedly violated. But along the way, sandwiched between the magnanimous finale involving an incredible face-off, the emotional core of the film lays its sight on the realisation of an individual whose act of betrayal has wiped off a generation. The realisation that mistakes are irredeemable, much like the people who have died, even as the glimmer of hope is a silver lining etched in history on how civilization form a way of growing again, despite falling prey to the same kind of mistakes in their bid for absolute power, greed and ambition. The screenplay forces us to introspect – have we learnt anything from history, even with how things stand today, and warring nations and corruption are at their worst? Maybe when vengeance subsides and ego deflates, history will be kinder to us.