Nolan's 'Odyssey' is a towering epic of heroic anguish [Review]

War always comes with a justification. Driven by grand pretexts that conceal darker motives, countless men have thrown themselves into battle across the ages. Many of those who perished in the flames died without ever knowing why.

The most destructive act humanity is capable of, war has sustained itself for thousands of years on the legitimacy it manufactures — stopping Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons, protecting Russian-speaking Ukrainians. Dressed up as an unavoidable choice in the name of peace, war remains very much alive even in the 21st century.

On Friday, when the word "war" has grown so commonplace it barely registers, a story that has traveled 3,000 years to reach the screen — the Trojan War and the hero Odysseus — lays bare the mercilessness, the wounds, the sacrifice and the anguish of one man called a hero hiding behind a cause. Did that war, remembered by later generations only for its brilliant cunning, truly lead humanity toward happiness, peace and prosperity? The perfect film, with the perfect story, has arrived at the perfect moment.

Chronicling the decade-long wandering of the hero Odysseus as he tries to return home after the Trojan War, director Christopher Nolan's "Odyssey" defies every superlative. Nolan has sculpted Homer's 24-book "Odyssey" with masterful precision, shaping it into a beautiful and magnificent epic.

Set in a world where gods exist, this myth-rooted story expands from the depths of human nature into a civilizational saga for an age in transition — and it cuts deep for those living through a time of war. To state the conclusion plainly: do not hesitate before the long runtime (172 minutes) or the barrier of a classical text. The most remarkable experience a cinema can offer is waiting for you.

Penelope (Anne Hathaway), queen of Ithaca, and her son Telemachus (Tom Holland) have spent 20 years waiting for a husband and father who has not returned. He is Odysseus (Matt Damon), the hero who led the Greeks to victory in the decade-long Trojan War. The tale of how Odysseus hid soldiers inside a wooden horse disguised as an offering to Athena and breached the gates of Troy long ago became legend in Ithaca. Yet years after the war's end, Penelope still waits desperately for any word of whether her husband is even alive.

The palace of Ithaca swarms with opportunists coveting the throne in the king's long absence. Presenting themselves as suitors to Penelope, they exploit Zeus's law of hospitality — which demands that all travelers and guests be welcomed — to brazenly occupy the palace and behave as if they own it. As the hollowed-out kingdom teeters, Telemachus sets out to sea at great personal risk to find news of his father.

At the same time, across the sea on a distant island, Odysseus is living a peaceful and stable life with Calypso (Charlize Theron). He has no memory of his family, yet instinctively gathers scraps of wood to build a raft — driven by some deep urge to return somewhere. When he stops eating the lotus flowers that have kept him in a narcotic haze, fragments of memory begin to surface: the homeward voyage he had boarded in the flush of victory was, in truth, a road of hardship and death.

The journey home was treacherous from the start. After setting sail, Odysseus and his men put ashore briefly on an island, only to be trapped in the cave of the one-eyed monster Polyphemus. Ignoring Zeus's law entirely, Polyphemus devours the men one by one. Odysseus and his crew eventually blind the creature and escape — but when they realize too late that Polyphemus is the son of Poseidon, their resumed voyage amounts to sailing willingly into the arms of an enraged god.

As if warning them they will never set foot on home soil again, a relentless succession of supernatural trials blocks their path: violent storms, a sorceress, giants, sirens and a six-headed monster. Can Odysseus's fleet survive the mounting losses and make it home? What fate awaits the kingdom of Ithaca as it slides ever further into lawlessness?

"Odyssey" weaves its grand epic tightly through a nonlinear structure, borrowing the recollections and perspectives of multiple characters as it moves between past and present. A narrative that could easily sprawl out of control moves with lean efficiency inside Nolan's signature storytelling framework. Aside from the relationships between the sorceress Circe, Calypso and Odysseus, most of the story follows the source material faithfully. Before the will of the gods, which no amount of resistance can escape, humans are merely sailors following a predetermined course. Seen from a distance, the film is not so different from a story of people desperately rowing and steering to reach home while avoiding the harbor of death.

In a narrative where suffering is followed by more trials, and those by yet more sacrifice, the Odysseus Matt Damon plays is not straightforwardly heroic. The eyes of this strategist who led his side to victory after a decade of war hold not joy and triumph but regret and longing. His expression is heavy, his weariness bone-deep — as though the mere fact of having survived is itself a punishment. It is not the face audiences expect of a hero.

Odysseus, a figure passed down through song until he became almost godlike in the popular imagination, exists in "Odyssey" as thoroughly and only a human being. It is as if the film is saying that the heroic figures history has so often portrayed as extraordinary were, in truth, not so different. A man constantly shaken by adversity, who torments himself over every sacrifice and lets his temper ruin things — merely a man, carrying longing and regret, who at last reaches home. The end of war is not victory; it is the moment of return. The true resolution is not joy but relief.

Nolan, at least, does not make the mistake of calling someone a hero simply because they are intoxicated by the adrenaline of victory amid merciless slaughter and sacrifice. Odysseus's heroism comes not from cunning but from the weight of loss he willingly shoulders — knowing the wrongs he has committed and doing everything in his power to make amends and atone. That weight encompasses the soldiers who held their breath inside the Trojan Horse, the nameless young men who fell beneath swords and spears without knowing why, and the years stolen from those who waited a decade for their return.

The human dimension of Odysseus stands out all the more sharply against the vile Antinous (Robert Pattinson), a man constitutionally incapable of admitting fault. Even the ill-fated soldier Sinon (Elliot Page), who died as a result of the king's strategy, rages at the king who sacrificed him — yet still expresses gratitude that Odysseus gave him a proper burial.

For nearly three hours, the film commands the screen with direction that never lets the eye wander. The cast delivers powerhouse performances — above all, Matt Damon's career-defining turn, which looks like a lock for an Oscar nomination. In a world where gods, magic and mortals coexist, the infinite scale of nature seems to speak to how meaningless and trivial human desire truly is. It would be dishonest to say you cannot feel the weight of every dollar of the film's 380 billion won ($259 million) production budget in every frame.

Near the end of this long odyssey, the story circles back to where everything began — the war with Troy. What that war left behind — a war in which Zeus's law, the unwritten code of the age, was trampled underfoot and the innocent were slaughtered without mercy — was nothing more than the word "victory" and a hero's tale. Odysseus remembers that what stained the pitch-black night of Troy was not any great cause but red madness. Coming home is not enough to erase from his mind all that he did and all that he lost. That, perhaps, is the story the film most wants to tell.

Justifications have changed their names with every era to legitimize war, but what remains behind those names is always the same: the nameless who fell, and the weight carried by those who survived and must remember it all. Through "Odyssey," Nolan dresses that ancient truth in the garb of myth and sets it before us once more. No word beyond "awe-inspiring" is needed to describe the film's craft and quality. This remarkable illusionist, who has long bent time to his will, now seems intent on stepping into the realm of the gods himself. Opens Aug. 5. Rated for ages 15 and older.

balme@heraldcorp.com