Film Review: "The Odyssey"

Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” is a gutsy, inventive reimagining of Homer’s epic poems. His shaggy god story also samples Virgil’s tales of brave Ulysses. You’ll see the Cyclops, the Trojan Horse, Circe, Scylla and Charybdis. Scary monsters! Angry gods! Sweaty Greeks! Step right up! 

There's a lot to see here. But Nolan’s movie isn’t a clip show of Homer’s greatest hits. Odysseus’ return voyage to Ithaca fuses the episodes into a story. Homecoming was the spine of Homer's original story, natch. In Nolan’s retelling, the story builds. It's now character-based storytelling. And not just Odysseus’ character. 

The movie’s crowded with unique, well-drawn individuals. They all change, not always for the better. Odysseus changes most of all. He’s not just coming home and taking back what’s his. He’s reclaiming his own humanity after perpetrating war crimes. See what the director/screenwriter did there? 

Nolan’s pulled a clever bait-and-switch.

“The Odyssey” starts out as a homecoming saga.

Presto-chango! 

It's an anti-war parable. 

“Zeus Law” is the secret of Nolan's switcheroo. It’s based on “xenia” — the sacred hospitality that ancient Greeks owed to strangers in a strange land. A good host should welcome them, feed them, clothe them, and above all, don’t kill them. They might be gods in disguise. The flip side? Guests shouldn’t pig out, abuse their welcome, double-dip, or kill their hosts. 

That's a valid Homeric concept. Zeus was the protector of strangers and guests. So, it’s his law. Nolan just gave it a name — and hoped the audience would miss his sleight of hand.

Magic aside, the movie’s themes are simple:

Be kind to strangers visiting your home.

Don’t kill strangers in their homes.

These are Nolan’s themes, not Homer and Virgil’s. It's not his only change.

Homeric culture wasn’t Woodstock. It was a warrior culture. Hierachical, patriarchial, sexist, violent, nasty, poor, brutish and short. Mass murder was something to sing about. Peace love and understanding wasn’t the Greek way. "Zeus' Law"  was fine print. "Kill them all, let the gods sort it out" was the main commandment. 

Homer’s Odysseus was a cocky, boastful bastard from start to finish. He's the better killer — and proud of it. Nolan's Odysseus repents. The sack of Troy fills him with guilt. Unlike Homer's hero, he learns his lesson. Fine by me.

Nolan’s “Odyssey” has a multicultural cast. So what? Peter Brook’s "Mahabharata," was too. I’m cool with that. And all his other changes.

Homer's epic is bulletproof. It survives endless reinvention. It's a sacred homecoming story — and it launched a thousand stories. James Joyce's "Ulysees" made it the tale of a cuckolded Jewish ad salesman. The Coen Brothers' "O Brother Where Art Thou?" turned it into a redneck odyssey. Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" blasted it into outer space, infinity and beyond. Nolan's earthbound "Odyssey" makes a lot of strange changes. That's not my beef.

The movie's just too damn long. It's just that simple.

Nolan's film clocks in at 2 hours and 52 minutes. The whiz-bang scenes are spectacular. But they go on and on and on. The pacing drags. The flashbacks have flashbacks. The story wanders, meanders, goes off course. Enough already! Get on with it!

Don't get me wrong ...

Nolan's "Odyssey" is a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.  His long, strange trip is well worth taking. 

But it's just too damn long.

Review: "The Last Temptation of Christ"

Today’s lesson: “The Gospel According to Martin Scorsese.” Jaysus, where do I begin? Let’s start with the writer ….

Nikos Katzanzakis (NK) wrote the novel — but he was more like an ecstatic prophet than a writer. His white-hot words wrestled with opposing visions. NK was a mystic electrified by the power of the living God. He was also a nihilist facing the absolute emptiness of life, the universe and everything. Beautiful writing — that often sounds like a madman’s ravings. NK's God-drunk Jesus was the maddest of all.

“When I say ‘I,’ I do not speak of this body — which is dust; I do not speak of the son of Mary — he too is dust, with just a tiny, tiny spark of fire. ‘I’ from my mouth … means God.”

That’s a mild example. NK’s Jesus dials it up to 11. He’s a full-on mad prophet at all times. How the hell do you have a movie out of that?

Martin Scorsese seems like the ideal director. Just make Jesus as intense as De Niro in “Raging Bull” or “Mean Streets.” But Scorsese didn’t. The film’s Jesus (Willem Dafoe) is a mild-mannered carpenter. Who speaks in the low tones of a soporific NPR announcer. Dafoe’s blow-dried blonde haircut makes you think Jon Peters was the film’s uncredited hairdresser. His Malibu Jesus isn't scary at all. 

So, why’d Scorsese pull his punches? My hunch: The unholy reaction to “The Life of Brian” made him flinch. He wanted to be faithful to the book — without pissing off any religious fanatics. To do that, Scorsese diluted the novel's terrifying, holy madness. The result wasn’t faithful to anybody.

To be fair, it's a hard book to adapt. (Duh.) In Kazantzakis’ novel, Jesus’ spiritual struggle was mainly an inner struggle. His human self wrestled with an incomprehensible, unpredictable Divine Other that relentlessly tried to possess him. In NK’s novel, Jesus kept that struggle to himself — aside from a few cryptic utterances. (The Biblical Jesus did that, too.) If Jesus spoke his thoughts and made his inner life public, it would cheapen it. Implying Jesus’ Divine Madness was the only way to do it. Mush-mouth equivocation was not. But that's a matter of direction and delivery, not the script.

Paul Schrader* wrote the screenplay. Not a man to pull punches, eh? The film’s fault is in its stars — and a director who (uncharacteristically) played it safe. (Blame mean nuns with metal rulers. But I speculate.) I'll cut to the chase ...

After an hour of mumbling and misdirection, the film finds its spine (and balls) in Jesus’ arrest, trial, crucifixion, and crisis of faith. David Bowie’s Pontius Pilate is a polite, upper-class British prig who’d rather not nail this silly sod up — but wastes no time arguing with a backwater lunatic who thinks it’s his destiny.

Spoiler alert: The Romans crucify Jesus. He hangs on the cross. The devil appears to him as an Angel of Light. Or a cute young chick. This luminous lady de-crucifies him. Jesus lives out a normal human life. He marries Mary Magdelene, has kids, the whole nine yards. That’s the last temptation, get it? But the world is out of joint. Jesus knows it. And know what he must do. He gets back to work, gets back on the cross, and dies for our sins. 

That’s the heart of Kazantzakis’ book and the heart of Scorsese’s movie. It was weak tea before — and strong wine now. Scorsese should’ve stuck with that — and ditched the set-up. Whatever my caveats and kvetches, I admire his iron balls making this movie in the first place.

If the film had skipped the set-up and jumped to Jesus’ "last temptation" on the cross, it might have worked. (Spoiler alert: Satan tempts Jesus with a normal human life — which he lives in an eyeblink like Picard in “The Inner Light.” At the last possible second, Jesus returns to the cross and gets the job done.)

Scorsese got the job done — but this doesn’t feel like a Scorsese movie.

As an added sin, this film echoes the revived anti-Semitic tropes of 2026. (Jews throwing stones, Jews haggling about money, etc.) That wasn’t on Scorsese’s radar in 1988.

It’s a cross he’ll have to bear

*Were there world enough and money, I’d compare NK's novel to Schrader’s screenplay line by line. But there isn’t — so I won't. Sorry.