The Odyssey and the Great American Movie Argument

Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey may be the first movie in history to receive thousands of audience reviews before most of the audience had actually seen it. For months, the internet has been staging its own Trojan War over the film. On one side are the people convinced it represents the final, bloated form of Hollywood wokeness: controversial casting, modernized dialogue, identity-conscious revisions and a nearly three-hour lecture disguised as Greek mythology. On the other side are the Nolan faithful, professional culture writers and classical-literature enthusiasts assuring us that this is one of humanity’s greatest stories, directed by one of the greatest filmmakers alive, using some of the most ambitious cinematic technology ever developed. And because we no longer merely watch movies, both sides have turned attendance into a declaration of political allegiance. Buy a ticket and you have apparently endorsed every casting decision Hollywood has made since 2016. Refuse to buy one and you are now personally responsible for the collapse of Western art.

It is remarkable what can be accomplished with a bucket of popcorn.

Two Armies, One Unseen Movie

The prerelease argument divided into two broad factions, although neither maps perfectly onto traditional political lines. The first faction decided it would not see the movie based on trailers, promotional interviews and casting information. Particular criticism centered on Lupita Nyong’o playing Helen of Troy, Elliot Page playing the Greek warrior Sinon, the use of modern American accents and other departures from the characters and atmosphere people associate with Homer’s epic. To these critics, the casting is not merely creative interpretation. It is evidence that Hollywood remains more interested in correcting the past than portraying it.

The second faction responded by promoting the film as a monumental cultural event. This is Homer, after all—one of the foundational stories of Western literature—adapted by Christopher Nolan, filmed entirely with IMAX technology and populated by a cast that includes Matt Damon, Anne Hathaway, Tom Holland, Robert Pattinson, Zendaya, Nyong’o and Charlize Theron. According to this camp, refusing to see it over casting decisions is provincial, reactionary or simply ridiculous. It is mythology, they argue, not surveillance footage from Bronze Age Greece.

Naturally, each side believes the other is operating under suspicious motives. Are the glowing promoters paid shills, access journalists and studio-friendly influencers afraid of losing invitations to the next premiere? Are the boycotters sincerely concerned about artistic integrity, or are some of them financially and politically rewarded for finding a civilization-ending outrage in every movie trailer?

The honest answer is probably yes. Not universally, of course. But the modern internet has created a wonderful economic system in which one group profits by declaring every new movie a masterpiece while another profits by declaring it an attack on your children, ancestors and household appliances. The only position that does not generate engagement is, “It might be good. I’ll wait and see.” That person is immediately escorted out of the algorithm.

Nearly Three Hours Is a Relationship

Personally, I was never rushing to the theater. That is not a boycott. Greek mythological epics simply are not my favorite genre, and the official runtime is two hours and 52 minutes. At that length, I am not buying a movie ticket. I am entering into a temporary domestic partnership. I need to know whether there will be an intermission, meal service and a brief opportunity to check whether my family has reported me missing.

I will probably watch it when it becomes available at home, where civilization has provided several improvements over the theatrical experience: pause buttons, affordable snacks and bathrooms that do not require missing the scene in which the entire plot is finally explained. But runtime alone does not determine whether a movie is good. A great three-hour film can feel like a one-hour adventure. A bad 90-minute film can make you reconsider whether time moves forward in a straight line. The question is not how long the journey lasts. The question is whether you care about reaching Ithaca.

What Actually Makes a Movie Good?

Beyond the politics, tribalism and promotional warfare, the traditional requirements for a good movie remain stubbornly simple. It needs a compelling plot. It needs an effective storytelling pace. And it needs actors who belong in their roles. All three have to work together. A fascinating premise cannot survive lifeless execution. Great actors cannot rescue a script that sounds like it was assembled from corporate mission statements. Spectacle cannot permanently distract an audience from characters they do not care about. If Nolan gets those three elements right, The Odyssey could fly by despite its length. Odysseus has monsters to confront, temptations to resist, gods to irritate and a family to return to. This is not a story suffering from a shortage of material.

The danger comes when filmmakers begin confusing the story with the message they wish to attach to it. Every story contains values. Every filmmaker has a worldview. The problem is not that art communicates ideas. The problem begins when the ideas stop emerging from the characters and start arriving through the screen wearing a name tag from Human Resources. Audiences can sense the difference. They may not be able to explain it in the terminology of film school, but they know when a character is speaking because the character would naturally say something—and when the character is speaking because a committee wanted a clip for social media. That distinction matters more than whether every actor precisely resembles a description written thousands of years ago.

Controversial Casting Can Work

Race swaps, gender swaps and historically unconventional casting do not automatically destroy a movie. That position is too easy, and reality is more complicated. A gifted actor can make an unconventional choice feel inevitable. A strong script can establish its own internal world. A confident director can persuade the audience to stop comparing the production with a textbook and start engaging with the story in front of them.

When done well, imaginative casting can broaden a story’s appeal. It can allow more viewers to see themselves inside a myth that belongs, in a cultural sense, to everyone. It can reveal dimensions of familiar characters that previous adaptations overlooked. But it is more difficult than Hollywood often admits. An unconventional casting choice creates an additional persuasive burden. The actor and director must make the audience believe in that interpretation. They cannot simply announce that the casting is important and accuse viewers of moral failure if they remain unconvinced. The change has to feel organic to the world of the film. The actor has to be capable. The script has to support the interpretation. And, most importantly, the production cannot behave as though representation itself is a substitute for characterization. Casting a diverse group of talented people is not storytelling. It is hiring. The storytelling still has to happen afterward.

Hollywood’s Worst Marketing Strategy

Recent Hollywood history has produced a particularly destructive cycle. First, a studio makes a movie with questionable writing, uneven pacing or weak characterization. Then the marketing campaign emphasizes the movie’s social importance rather than its entertainment value. Then critics and influencers praise its cultural significance. Then ordinary viewers watch it and say, “That wasn’t very good.” Finally, the people who made the movie blame the audience.

This may be the most backward commercial strategy ever invented. Imagine a restaurant serving you a burned steak and then accusing you of insufficient commitment to cattle diversity. The customer is not obligated to enjoy the product because the company believes its intentions were virtuous. Viewers do not owe filmmakers applause, just as filmmakers do not owe viewers strict obedience to every historical description or fan expectation. The transaction is much simpler. Hollywood asks for our money and time. We ask to be entertained. Everything else is negotiation.

When filmmakers attack disappointed viewers, they reveal that they have forgotten the basic relationship. The audience is not an employee attending mandatory sensitivity training. It is the customer. You can challenge the audience. You can surprise it, unsettle it or even offend it. But you still have to persuade it.

The Critics Cannot Settle This

Early reactions to The Odyssey have been largely positive, with particular praise directed toward its scale and performances, although some critics have objected to its treatment of female characters and its departures from Homer. That does not settle anything.

Professional critics are not necessarily paid shills. Nor are angry YouTubers necessarily brave defenders of civilization. Both groups contain honest observers, partisan operators, attention merchants and people who simply enjoy different things. A Rotten Tomatoes score cannot tell you whether you will like a movie any more than a restaurant’s average Yelp score can tell you whether the chef will overcook your particular hamburger.

Box-office numbers will not completely answer the artistic question either. Bad movies sometimes make fortunes. Excellent films sometimes disappear without a trace. Marketing, competition, ticket prices and Nolan’s enormous fan base will all influence the result. But genuine audience reaction does eventually become difficult to manufacture.

If people leave the theater talking about the Cyclops, the performances, the tension and the emotional journey home, Nolan succeeded. If they leave debating press-tour interviews and casting announcements, something probably failed to connect onscreen. A successful movie makes the controversy feel smaller than the story. A failed movie makes the controversy the most memorable part.

Let the Movie Defend Itself

So is The Odyssey a woke disaster, a cinematic masterpiece or a perfectly decent adventure being crushed beneath the weight of everyone’s political expectations?

Now that the film has opened, we can finally begin replacing speculation with evidence. Not studio talking points. Not influencer outrage. Not ceremonial declarations that Western civilization has either been saved or destroyed before the opening credits. The movie itself gets to make the argument.

Perhaps Nolan has created a nearly three-hour epic that feels fast, immersive and emotionally satisfying. Perhaps the controversial casting choices become completely natural once the actors inhabit the roles. Perhaps the modern revisions bring a 2,800-year-old story to life for a wider audience. Or perhaps the film is another gorgeous, expensive production in which the marketing department did more character development than the screenwriters. Either outcome is possible.

That uncertainty is not cowardice. It is what people used to call withholding judgment until the evidence arrived. The first few weeks of audience response will tell us far more than the months of prerelease combat ever could. Until then, remember the most radical position in modern culture:

You are allowed to watch a movie before deciding whether it is good.