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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Dark Waters

Dark Waters is a "grown-up movie" at a time when grown-ups can't agree on anything. Like half a dozen films before it, it focuses on the the pursuit of justice against a corporation polluting people. It should sound at least a little familiar because it's practically a remake of the 1998 legal film A Civil Action, while also sharing similar DNA to Erin Brokovich and other films. (There's even a sequence of the main character organizing a never-ending collection of files that looks straight out of All the President's Men.) In Dark Waters, the villainous corporation is DuPont, maker of Teflon. They may be poisoning everyone without their knowledge, but they're "good people", as we're told, being the community's largest employer.

Dark Waters is likely to find, though, that in the twenty-plus gap between this film and A Civil Action, hyper-partisanship has risen so much that many viewers simply won't buy the film's arguments. The political gap between the left and the right has risen by more than twenty points since 1994. This is not inherently a bad thing, but it inevitably will make the film seem less urgent and less relevant. 

Mark Ruffalo, deliberately flabbier than his Hulk days, is the real-life environmental lawyer Robert Bilott. He is an attorney for the Ohio-based law firm Taft Stettinius & Hollister, where a prominent portrait of Ohio senator Robert Taft, son of William Howard Taft and one of the firm's most prominent lawyers in its history, hangs in the reception. One day, a meeting is interrupted by a West Virginia farmer named Wilbur Tennant (Bill Camp), who knew Robert's grandmother. Tennant is desperate for help, as his cows appear to have been poisoned; they have black teeth, enlarged organs, and are dying of cancers. Tennant's farm has become a grave yard for almost two hundred dead cows. Those that still live have become violent. Bilott takes some convincing, but he eventually decides to help Tennant by representing him. It is the beginning of a rather timely pursuit, one that will take more than a decade.

Camp is given heavy eye brows and free rein to make some noticeable choices. "Ya blind, boy?" is one line that is really hammed up by the usually much more reserved Camp. Victor Garber plays the DuPont executive dripping with banality of evil until he yells "hick!" at Robert when confronted and sued to make the audience really despise him. Tim Robbins, who plays the senior partner at Taft and Robert's supervisor, does a mostly decent job; his character basically supports Robert's quest to bring justice, but then he delivers an annoying speech featuring wannabe calls-to-action that seems so out of line with the film's reasonably measured approach that maybe Robbins, notoriously liberal, wrote it himself.

But the biggest disappointment in this film's decisions for its cast is to give Anne Hatheway a throw-away role. She plays Sarah, Robert's wife, who gave up her own legal career to take care of their house and raise their three boys. The film may think it's giving Hatheway a lot to do and "agency", but it isn't. Sarah is the same as virtually every wife portrayed in this type of film: supportive, but only until it starts to put a strain on their relationship. Robert starts to become obsessed with his work, barely speaking to the boys, and taking pay cuts. She's there to lecture him about this, but the film doesn't really care about her perspective, for we are meant to sympathize with our persistent, low-key hero. Her character only adds to the personal stakes the male protagonist faces. "How'd it go?" she dutifully asks him, as he places his defeated head on her shoulder and cries. Dark Waters is clearly a "great man" film, focusing almost solely on the work of one environmental lawyer and minimizing every other contributor in the fight. This makes it less appealing than it could have been.

Dark Waters is more or less a smart movie with an accurate condemnation of self-regulation and the evil acts corporations can commit, but there's a lot of liberal-splaining in this film, as expected, and while it is an important message, many audiences will likely turn away in these hyper-partisan times. The challenge for the studio was to present it to conservative members who could buy into the call for action. This is possible; just look at how toxic sludge killing their dogs turned many senior citizens in Florida into eco-warriors. But the movie passes on the challenge, or at least fails it. Some moments will make certain audience members' blood boil, and yet those same moments will make other audiences roll their eyes. One way or the other, you will likely Google PFOA and other forever chemicals and wonder if they're in your water and blood. Whether or not you do much else beyond that might be a measure of how successful this film is.

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The Dark Knight Rises

It occurred to me recently that Christopher Nolan's Batman films are mostly about fear. They explore the fears not only of everyday citizens but also of a man most of us likely thought was never scared: the Dark Knight. Batman probably follows the advice to never let anyone see him bleed, but we see his premonition that perhaps one day he won't be able to prevent terrible things from happening. There are some really scary, terrible things in our world. A recent Gallup poll found that the things Americans fear the most are terrorist attacks, spiders, death, being a failure, war, heights, criminal or gang violence, being alone, the future, and nuclear war. All of these (except spiders and to a lesser extent heights) are featured prominently in Nolan's "The Dark Knight Rises," his final installment of his Batman trilogy.

Years after defeating the Joker and Two-Face (while keeping the true identity of Harvey Dent secret), Batman has left Gotham largely in peace. The Dent Act has kept police officers on the streets, and there is no need for Batman. Bruce Wayne is still injured from previous events, and largely remains a recluse, with hardly anything to do in the world, certainly not protect Gotham.  

But then Bane enters. He is played by Tom Hardy, as chiseled and intimidating as he was in last year's "Warrior." Bane's main goal seems to be to give the power of Gotham "back to the people." But democracy without rules isn't a democracy, it's anarchy, and this is perfect for Bane. He plans on getting his hands on a nuclear bomb and doing a whole lot more to severely disrupt the order of things. Batman is hardly a match for Bane's strength, and Bane seems to enjoy taunting him. "Oh, you think darkness is your ally," he mocks. "You merely adopted the dark. I was born in it, modeled by it...The shadows betray you because they belong to me." (This is Shakespeare compared to the last time we saw Bane, in the dismal 1997 film "Batman and Robin.") How haunting he sounds as he instructs Bruce Wayne that once Gotham is ashes, only then does he have Bane's permission to die. But it's not simply Bane and his malicious army Batman has to worry about--Selina Kyle, better known as Catwoman (Anne Hathaway), is causing quite a bit of mischief as well.  

Nolan is a director who knows his visuals. The opening sequence is a reminder of his talent for unusual, acrobatic stunts, and he seems more prone to use minimalist makeup and a lack of green suits for his characters (which certainly makes him part of a minority among directors). When he does use visual effects, he convinces the audience that every effort was taken to make it look as realistic as possible. One of the previews before the movie was for Sam Raimi's "Oz: The Great and Powerful." The movie looks like it will be filled with computer-generated effects. I was reminded of the visuals of "The Wizard of Oz" from 1939 (the same year as the first "Bat-man" comic) and I thought to myself that while I basically know that Raimi and his team used CGI for the effects, decades later I still don't know how the effects were made for "The Wizard of Oz" and yet they look so much better. The feeling I get from "The Wizard of Oz" is the feeling I get when I watch a Christopher Nolan movie; I'm so amazed at the attention to detail, and his appreciation of visual imagery and his shunning of lazy film making.
 

There are some flaws, of course. Do we need all of these characters? Michael Caine as Alfred, Gary Oldman as Commissioner Gordon, and Morgan Freeman as Lucious Fox are all back, but why have Matthew Modine here as an ambitious cop? What purpose does Marion Cotillard's character really have here?  I'm as big a fan of Joseph Gordon-Levitt as anyone, but what is he doing here?  (My question was answered at the end of the film, and I had mixed feelings about it.) There's a henchman who kind of looks like Willem Dafoe, and I was more interested in him than I was in numerous other characters. The Catwoman scenes are nice, but also are unnecessary. Additionally, this might be the most confusing Batman movie ever. There's something about the stock market and something else about a congressman or something like that. Three hours is a lot to ask for from an audience, and "The Dark Knight Rises" is unjustifiably long, overly ambitious, and increasingly clunky as it moves along. My reaction to "Batman Begins" was excitement that Batman was back; my reaction to "The Dark Knight" was excitement because I recognized that I had just seen a masterpiece. My reaction to "The Dark Knight Rises" was a bizarre sense of being simultaneously overwhelmed and underwhelmed, though ultimately feeling that it was efficient and satisfying.

Likewise, I had mixed feelings about Tom Hardy as Bane.  I admired his physical force, his performance that relies heavily on his voice and eyes, and the thought he likely put behind it.  Still, my reaction to his peculiar voice was similar to my reaction towards Bale's voice as Batman.  At times it works perfectly, and at times it sounds utterly ridiculous.  

At times I was so bored with the movie that I began to compare it to the previous Batman movies by Tim Burton; I still believe his "Batman" from 1989 is the superior one, as I have a preference towards fantastical stories and prefer it to the grittier Nolan versions. Still, one cannot deny Nolan's talent or understate our appreciation for him resurrecting what was surely a dead franchise. Beyond saving it, he brought it back with intelligence and force. Nolan toys with our emotions, as is the case with the scene where Bane and his crew shoot up Wall Street; Nolan shows us the criminality and horror of such weaponry and visualizes the chaos of terrorism.  

Batman has been such an important part of Americana. Originally meant to be a complement to the pride and patriotism (and frankly, lack of realism) of Superman, Batman, particularly Nolan's version of him, has intrigued Americans as the darker, more psychologically and sociologically interesting of the two, and indeed of any American character. Britain recently has shown us a lot of its pride with the Olympics, and who can blame them? After all, they have Bond, the Beatles, and Mr. Bean.  But America has and always will have Batman.

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