The Odyssey

The theme in Ancient Greek literature of nostos, in which a heroic figure returns home, seems like an appropriate theme for Sir Christopher Nolan, the hugely successful auteur who has returned to action flicks after his slow-churning but acclaimed multi-Oscar-winning biographical film Oppenheimer four years ago. For his newest project, he's chosen something that seems like a natural fit for him: adapting Homer's Odyssey in what is likely his most ambitious film (and certainly the most ambitious adaptation of this famous tale). 

Is it as stunning as they say? The Odyssey is a home run according to just about every source (it's got an 8.5 score on IMDb, a 94% on Rotten Tomatoes, a 4.4 on Letterboxd, and an 89 on Metacritic), and it's destined to be nominated for a host of awards next year. It will be included in the pantheon of Nolan films when he starts collecting honorary awards several decades from now. I would argue the film is being received so warmly chiefly because, even if you don't like it, you have to marvel at the sheer talent in front of and behind the camera to make a story from antiquity feel fresh for a new audience and for it to have such an authentic look to it. However, I regret to say that while I marvel at the work of these artists, I also felt like I was forced into a cacophonous roller coaster by a director flying a little too close to the sun. Despite the marvelous production they've all participated in, it's at times boring, it's often pretentious, and it's nearly always vituperatively clangorous.   

Written about 3,000 years ago, Homer's Odyssey is one of the oldest works of literature, but it still should be worth noting a few key parts of the plot. (Though there are, of course, artistic liberties Nolan and his team have taken, the film is remarkably faithful to the source material.) After ten years of war between the Greeks and Troy—the one that was launched after Paris of Troy took Helen from her husband, Menelaus—the King Odysseus (Matt Damon) and his men try to finally return home. (Paris, a key character in Homer's Iliad, does not appear in this film adaptation, but Menelaus and Helen do. Helen is played by Lupita Nyong'o, who also plays her sister, Clytemnestra, and Menelaus is played by Jon Bernthal.) Things go awry almost immediately, with the crew becoming lost and encountering all sorts of problems involving witches, sirens, giants, and monsters. 

While Odysseus toils to get to his home, his home is under siege from violent suitors who assure Ithaca's queen, Penelope (Anne Hathaway), that Odysseus is in fact dead and Ithaca needs a new king. The young prince, Telemachus (Tom Holland), could take over, but he is too young. One particularly nasty suitor is named Antinous and is played by Robert Pattinson. He sneakily tries to assure Penelope that if he were to become Ithaca's king, the throne would in fact be Telemachus's...that is, unless Penelope and Antinous were to have a son. At any rate, Antinous, Polybus (played by Corey Hawkins, whom you'll probably recognize from films like Straight Outta Compton, In the Heights, and the newer adaptation of The Color Purple), and the other suitors fully utilize the law requiring hospitality as they dine and make fools of themselves in Odysseus's home, awaiting Penelope to face reality and choose a new king, all while bullying Telemachus, servant Eumaeus (John Leguizamo), and the others.

It seems Nolan (who also wrote the screenplay) wanted to lean in hard on an aesthetic of realism and especially an anti-war theme, which is surprising given the adventurous qualities of Homer's Odyssey. That's a noble intention, especially because the world is engulfed in its highest level of conflicts since the end of World War II and certain elements of "warrior" ethos have crept into the current U.S. military. In this respect, we are to view Odysseus not so much as an action hero or even a cautionary tale due to his being a victim of excessive hubris but instead more like a soldier who might be suffering from post-traumatic stress and has slowly come to the conclusion that maybe, in fact, he's not one of the good guys. Yet whereas the 1997 NBC miniseries of The Odyssey may be criticized for being devoid of much depth, this 2026 Odyssey should be criticized for having too much of it and taking itself too seriously. 

Fortunately, though, none of the actors are going over the top. As a leading man, Damon pulls off yet another win, and while it may not have posed the same challenges as something like Good Will Hunting or The Talented Mr. Ripley did, he is still a commanding presence in this film. He is supported by a rich cast, the most entertaining to watch is most likely Samantha Morton as Circe and Robert Pattinson. Pattinson has chiseled quite a career playing heroes in franchises like Harry Potter, Twilight, and The Batman, as well as arthouse flicks like Good Time and The Lighthouse. Here, he's enticing as the chief suitor, not quite twirling a mustache but nevertheless establishing his character as conniving and very punchable. Morton only appears in one segment, but it is a segment that nevertheless rescues the film from the drudge that it's in. Truth be told, many of the scenes Morton, Pattinson, and the others are in work wonderfully well because, frankly, the original source material is doing much of the heavy lifting. Two apt examples of this are the metamorphosis of Odysseus's men by the witch and the climactic scene (always my favorite). But Nolan, his actors, and his crew do deserve credit for elevating them to make them the stuff of cinematic wonder. (This is quite the crowded cast, by the way. I haven't even mentioned Zendaya, Charlize Theron, Himesh Patel, Mia Goth, Elliot Page, and a whole host of others.) 

Thus, despite my complaints, one must surely tip their hat to Christopher Nolan, a director unlike any other today. Whereas other masters of the cinema have retreated to an overreliance of computer-generated imagery or even a tolerance of AI in filmmaking, Nolan has avoided that temptation in favor of painstaking filmmaking that surely costs a lot ($250 million, to be more precise) and undoubtedly resulted in copious amounts of sweat and tears from members of his team (like cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema, editor Jennifer Lame, production designer Ruth De Jong, costume designer Ellen Mirojnick, and visual effects supervisor Andrew Jackson, all of whom have previously been nominated for Oscars for Nolan films and who most certainly will again be for this one). 

However, much criticism should simultaneously be given to Nolan, his composer (the thrice-Oscar winner Ludwig Göransson), and his sound team led by Richard King for creating what might be the most obnoxiously loud movie in the history of cinema. While the omnipresence of vibrating theater chairs might be a unique experience at first, it really starts to become dreadful once one realizes that it will be a constant element of the viewing experience. I mentioned earlier that this film feels like it embraces nostos by returning Nolan to the action genre, but I, for one, would really be interested in him trying a smaller, quieter film like he used to do. That is a challenge I hope he one day accepts. 

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Rams

When the great Sam Neill died earlier this week, film fans of all shades were likely inundated with loads of footage of his most beloved role: Dr. Alan Grant from Jurassic Park, a role originally meant for Harrison Ford but one that Neill donned a fedora and made it his own. He would reprise this role as the famous paleontologist and reluctant father figure twice more (in Jurassic Park III and Jurassic World Dominion), and you likely saw lots of clips of those online and on TV recently, too, as well as scenes from loads of his other work, from Possession to Dead Calm to The Hunt for Red October to The Piano to Hunt for the Wilderpeople. 

Regrettably, you may have missed one of his very best performances, that of a reserved yet stoic sheep herder estranged from his brother and up against insurmountable forces of nature. It's regrettable because, although this may not be as famous as his other work, it's a master class of superb acting from him. He may not say much, but he carries so much weight in his body language and facial expressions, simultaneously communicating pages of history to his audience without being a bit didactic about it. Certain scenes here, particularly when his character, Col, is at his lowest, are among his very best.

The film is called Rams, the Australian remake directed by Jeremy Sims based on the Icelandic drama from 2015 directed by Grímur Hákonarson. Ditching the icy mountains of rural Iceland for hot, rugged Western Australia, Col raises sheep on his ranch right next to his older brother, Les (Michael Caton). Col may be a reticent (even muted) member of the community, but he's a stable presence, peacefully raising sheep descended from his family's bloodline and minding his own business. He's even part of the community's firefighting brigade and goes out for a pint with the others. Les, however, is more erratic. He may also go out, but he eats by himself. Like Col, he's reclusive but also very temperamental and prone to drink too much, even to the point where he resorts to violence against his younger brother. The thing is, something happened between the two long ago, and they now despise each other. If they need to communicate, finger-pointing will do (without looking the other in the eye); if it's absolutely necessary, they might write short notes to each other and have Col's dog, Kip (whom Les calls Flossie) rush them over. When Les receives one of these notes, he curses, crumples up the paper, and throws it away.

Things are about to become a whole lot more complicated between them. After losing to Les in a ram competition, Col notices that Les's prize ram has symptoms of Ovine John's Disease (OJD), a condition that causes the lining of the bowel to thicken and reduces the absorption of food until the sheep wastes away. The Department of Agriculture is called in, and there's no other solution but to terminate every sheep in every herd. This strains the relationship between the brothers even further (it was Col, after all, who first discovered the OJD symptoms showing on Les's ram), but it also puts a strain on the struggling rural community, who rely on these rams for a living.  

That is, unfortunately, one troubling element of the film. It's one that is harmless on the surface but rather disturbing deeper in the weeds: the lionization of farmers against pesky bureaucrats. The villain of the story, if there is one, is an employee of the Department of Agriculture played by Leon Ford who descends upon their community to collect and destroy their sheep once the outbreak occurs. His name (De Vries) is even foreign compared to the others. (Dutch Australians make up one of the largest groups of the Dutch diaspora outside of the Netherlands but are only about 1.5 percent of the Australian population.) I have no problem with the hero of the film being a local farmer—a man of the land—while the bad guy is a sniveling government employee, but given that Rams was released in 2020 during the the COVID-19 pandemic when many people around the world grew heated toward government regulations and lockdowns, the film may actually have fanned the flames or reopen old wounds for its newer viewers. 

The other discreet political ingredient that creeps into the film, however, is its powerful reminder of the devastating effects of global warming. Wildfires decimate the land Col, Les, and the others use for their farms, bringing all sorts of terrible danger. (The day after I watched the film, the wildfires of Canada and possibly Minnesota began to tarnish the air quality of Michigan, where I was visiting.) Its most terrifying moments involve a nasty wildfire engulfing the lands and pushing the community to the brink. I enjoyed last year's Oscar-nominated flick The Lost Bus, a thriller about local Californians struggling against wildfires, a lot more than practically everyone else, yet it's fair to say that Rams captures the tragedy of global warming in a more honest way.

Rams can be a little downbeat from time to time, but it has an Australian sunny disposition and joviality less prevalent in the original film, which took place in freezing rural Iceland. Audiences and critics ended up responding to it quite well, with a worldwide gross of over four million dollars, a host of nominations at the AACTA Awards (Australia's Oscars), and a Rotten Tomatoes score of ninety-one percent, one of Neill's highest. (He was nominated for Best Actor for his performance here.) Watching Rams is kind of like discovering or re-discovering treasure that much of the world is unaware of. If you've loved all those videos of him with animals on his rescue farm, you'll surely enjoy watching him care for his sheep here, calling them beautiful, washing them, keeping them safe, and trying to find some sort of internal peace along the way. Weaker actors would have had a much more difficult time trying to accomplish such a task, or at the very least they'd prefer to tell you everything the character was thinking. Not so with Sam Neill, who just has to move his eyes in a certain direction from time to time, and you've got all the information you need. He will sorely be missed.

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