Contents:
- Introduction
- The Poem
- The Film
Introduction
I still remember the first time I “read” The Odyssey. I was in the final weeks of 7th grade and desperately trying to satisfy my semesterly Accelerated Reader (online reading program; AR for short) goals. Despite the purpose of AR being to encourage continuous reading throughout a semester, I had become quite accustomed to finessing the system by choosing a single, monstrous book that was LEAGUES beyond the abilities of a 14-year-old brain to appreciate. The prior semester, I had demolished the 1000+ page unabridged version of Les Miserables over Thanksgiving break and aced the associated quiz just in time for the semester’s end. This semester, I decided to pick up The Odyssey. After a hasty “read” that was certainly not supplemented by the trifecta of Sparknotes, Cliffnotes, and Shmoop, I went and got an 80% on the quiz – feeling a grand sense of accomplishment for my cleverness once again.
Then, summer 2026 rolls around and Christopher Nolan releases his grand film of this Homeric Epic. I realize I do not remember a THING about this story. I felt an immeasurable disappointment in the AR system for essentially failing at its job, as well as in myself for being stupid. This time, as an adult who had in the last 3 years found himself slowly returning to the classical literature he had spent his high school years seeing as a chore and his college years completely ignoring, I decided to earnestly read this poem for the first time. I felt it would be a shame and a disservice to the great and enigmatic Homer to have my first exposure to his epic be a modern film (however great it may prove to be) rather than the original work.
I read the Robert Fagles translation, and supplemented my reading with the excellent and underappreciated video essays of Zachary May to help in contextualization and thematic analysis. Afterwards, I watched Nolan’s film in 70 mm IMAX. Here are my humble thoughts on the oldest piece of literature I have ever read, interpreted under a casual, non-scholarly lens.
The Test of Time
The most remarkable aspect of The Odyssey is none other than its age. The life of Homer and the epoch of The Odyssey is hypothesized to be around 1000-700 BCE. For the historically challenged like me (especially regarding events in the BCE range), the true antiquity of this epic is easily underappreciated. The Odyssey predates Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates by at least 300 years and Confucius by at least 200. The tale was conceived at a time when standard written language systems across Greece had not been established (thus most real people and fictional characters of this epoch are implicitly illiterate), and The Odyssey itself is strongly believed to have been an oral performance akin to modern day theater as opposed to literature. It was ultimately documented on a series of 24 stone slabs, which are hypothesized to have become the 24 books comprising the modern transcriptions.
Proper contextualization of The Odyssey amplifies the brilliance of its plot and themes. Contained within this telling of the journey of Odysseus is a series of animated events and an exploration of philosophical questions that predate the very definition of literature and philosophy as fields of study. Odysseus’ departure for Troy and the concomitant trials and tribulations he faces before returning home to Penelope and Telemachus beautifully fits the template of The Hero’s Journey long before the likes of The Hobbit or Harry Potter graced paper. The gradual reorienting of Odysseus’ motivating compass from glory to peace offers a profound, albeit indirect, answer to Aristotle’s question “How do we achieve happiness”, 300 years before he posed it. Ultimately, subjective agreeability of the plot and messages within The Odyssey cannot undermine the heavy significance of its age and its unrelentingly persistent relevance. Only so few coherent voices from such an ancient time continue to be accessibly appreciated today.
What Do We Live For?
The plot of the Odyssey is a page-turner, no doubt about that! But what does a battle with a cave-dwelling cyclops or a voyage to the underworld to converse with the dead say about life? Behind the serial misfortunes of Odysseus’ homecoming and their individual minor themes is an overarching attempt to answer the question “What Do We Live For”?
The Iliad with its grandiose tales of the Trojan war and its spotlight on the mighty, godlike warriors Aristotle and Ajax, implies that we live to leave a glorious legacy. Homer wrote The Iliad before The Odyssey which is consistent with the more youthful, energetic attitude of the prequel epic. The Odyssey, on the other hand, focuses on a man dead set on reuniting with his loved ones and restoring peace to his life and Kingdom, reflecting the outlook of an older, wiser Homer.
Where does our misplaced desire for glory come from? Homer claims it originates from hubris. Throughout The Odyssey, a substantial set of characters meet misfortune or demise through unchecked hubris.
Odysseus himself, towards the beginning of his long voyage home, comes face-to-face with a giant man-eating Cyclops. Through cunning and camaraderie, he and his men are able to blind the cyclops and escape without much notice. However, upon return to their moored ships and moments away from permanent escape, Odysseus decides to taunt the Cyclops, alerting him to their escape. The Cyclops then hurls giant stones towards their ship, coming close to a direct strike multiple times and generating waves that push the ship back to the perilous shore. Though the ship ultimately does sail away, the harm and harassment of the Cyclops proves to be the catalyst for many of the hardships that Poseidon imposes on Odysseus for the rest of his journey, the Cyclops being Poseidon’s bastard son. Odysseus’ character development does indeed illustrate the gradual death of his Hubris, as we observe him eventually relent to the will of the Gods when negotiating the lives of his men as they cross the channel between Scylla and Charybdis, or when he shamelessly arrives home to Ithaca disguised as a beggar.
Though sparsely present in The Odyssey, the characters of Achilles and Agamemnon are worth analyzing as foils to Odysseus. Achilles is a character whose spirit Odysseus actually encounters in his voyage to the Underworld. In their dialogue, Odysseus praises Achilles for his legacy as the greatest Aegean warrior, stating any man would be thrilled to be in his position. In a surprising twist Achilles’ response mentions nothing of his former glory and the satisfaction that must come with being in his position. Instead, he yearns for life, mentioning that he would rather be a penniless slave in the land of the living than wallow in his former glory in the land of the dead. His concern then immediately shifts to his son Neoptolemus, whose well-being he questions Odysseus persistently about. Agamemnon, on the other hand, is a character who is only mentioned throughout The Odyssey in the third-person; primarily in conversation with Menelaus. Agamemnon is the King of Aegea which all the other Greek Kings follow loyally into battle at Troy. It is revealed that prior to departure, he did the unspeakable act of sacrificing his own daughter to the Gods to win their favor in battle. Though he returns victorious, he comes home to a begrudging and conniving wife Clytemnestra, who assassinates Agamemnon and is subsequently killed by her own son in avenging his father. While it remains ambiguous by both modern and ancient Greek definitions of justice whether Agamemnon or Clytemnestra are the greater of the two evils, it is irrefutable that the state of this royal family is in complete disarray by the time their story is told. In the name of victory, Agamemnon sacrifices his home.
Finally, we see hubris serve as the downfall of Antinous, Eurymachus, and the ensemble of suitors plaguing Ithaca’s halls. The suitors’ confidence in the death of Odysseus grows across his 20 years of absence, reaching a crescendo when they plan and count on the death of Telemachus as the last obstacle in their way of to the throne and Penelope’s hand. When Odysseus does indeed return to his halls as a beggar, unbeknownst to the suitors, he is met with an appalling degree of disrespect and savagery that defies the custom of Xenia which motivate the rules for Greek hospitality seen so often throughout the rest of the epic. These aggressions accumulate anger within an unflinching Odysseus which will terminate in a more furious and catastrophic retribution like glass shattering under stress. The hubris of the suitors is on display until the very end when they meet their demise, particularly through Antinous. He watches anxiously as suitor after suitor is unable to string Odysseus’ bow, and instead of giving the task an earnest try himself and putting his pride on the line, he decides for all that the task is unreasonable, and asks Penelope to settle for the otherwise “best” suitor among her.
Throughout The Odyssey, Homer warns of the dangers of hubris and demonstrates that the pursuit of peace leads to a fundamentally more fulfilling life. Odysseus’ own sunset comes to the reader in the form of a prophecy, stating “And at last my own death will steal upon me… a gentle, painless death, far from the sea it comes to take me down, borne down with the years in ripe old age with all my people here in blessed peace around me.”
Greek Life and Mythology
Before proceeding to a critique of the film, I want to mention some of the more trivial yet personally eye-opening aspects of The Odyssey. First of all, it never occurred to me that Greek mythology does not have a central theological reference like Catholicism/Christianity does with the Bible or Islam does with the Quran. As such, it is only through stories such as The Iliad and The Odyssey that we find any written reference to these pagan gods. In fact, the Homeric epics are a MAJOR source for our understanding of Greek mythology. In a way, you could say that The Odyssey is the Greek Bible (Christians and Greeks don’t put me on trial for this). It’s astounding that the Gods of my beloved childhood series Percy Jackson are themselves based on other fictional literary works.
Secondly, The Odyssey is by no means a fantasy. Though Gods and mythical creatures are present throughout the tale, the lives of the individual characters are grounded in reality. Thus, one could read The Odyssey as an exceptionally eventful slice-of-life novel of ancient Greece circa 3000 BCE. Under this lens, I learned a substantial amount about life and the state of society at the time. Some casual takeaways I have include
- A newfound appreciation for the age of wine, honey, and sausage
- An image of the life of an ancient Greek farmer, warrior, or king
- A surprising degree of acceptability regarding ancient societal structure under the gavel of a modern jury. This includes rules of hospitality, spousal relationships/obligations, and the makings of a good ruler.
The Film
*review coming soon!
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