The hardest thing about being a film critic is that I am tasked with analyzing a film to some degree of depth after just a single viewing. Sometimes it’s no big deal, but other times, such as when the film in question is an epic, three hour-long adaptation of one of the defining works of literature, made by one of the only filmmakers who regularly puts out high-minded, non-IP event films, it can prove a bit difficult. It’s just so much material to process, and I also have to give consideration to the cultural moment in which the film is released. And it’s Christopher Nolan, for Zeus’ sake! He’s always been a filmmaker whose work typically takes multiple viewings to just process, let alone dissect.
But I, much like Odysseus, have a job to do, and I will get it done no matter what the gods throw in my way!!!
It should be noted that while I have indeed read Homer’s epic poem, I did so when I was about 15, which means I did it with an entirely different brain than the one that currently sits inside my middle-aged cranium (both versions of me like to imagine Homer Simpson writing the story with a quill that he frequently breaks and subsequently yells at). I have forgotten almost everything about it except for the big bullet points, and most of the stuff I do remember only sticks by way of O Brother, Where Art Thou?, which remains my favorite adaptation of the text. It was recently pointed out to me that the Dougie Jones arc in Twin Peaks: The Return is reminiscent of The Odyssey, and since that idea brings me unending joy to think about, I am including it here.
EDIT: At this point in my review, I’ve managed to see the film a second time, and I’m glad I did, as so many wonderful things have opened up to me on round two.
It’s almost pointless to talk about the craft on display since you already know that it’s mostly impeccable. It’s also kinda pointless to talk about the story since there’s so much of it and you pretty much know it already. Heck, at this point, you’ve probably already seen the movie since I’m tendering a late review (apologies, but life has been high intensity recently, and I’m still getting my bearings). So instead I’d like to focus on the reference I made to Twin Peaks: The Return, and the interesting thematic connection that has occurred to me. After that I’ll hit you with my two complaints about the film, both of which are minor.
That’s called “keeping the reader in suspense.”
In the most widely accepted text of The Odyssey, our hero Odysseus is not an introspective man. He’s cocky, restless, and way more concerned with his legend than with the present moment. He gets his men killed, tempts fate beyond reason, and gives in to vice and avarice as needed and desired. He defies the gods openly, and does so out of a mix of expedience and ego. And if I remember correctly (which I doubt), it’s framed as all being worth it since our hero managed to get home. The ends justify the means.
This is an interesting turn of phrase, and it’s one that gets humans into trouble every single day. Another interesting turn of phrase is “necessary evil.” And yet another is “acceptable loss.”
These phrases soothe us through tough times where we find ourselves rationalizing short term evil for long term gain. If I, a person who can be trusted with the power of deceit, use this deceit to prevent further troubles, can it really even be considered deceitful?
In this, Christopher Nolan’s take on Homer’s epic poem, the master storyteller uses the structure of the source material as a vessel to carry his pet thematic concern. It’s something he has explored in almost all of his movies. In The Dark Knight, Batman uses a wildly unethical surveillance method that goes against his own principles. So much so that his buddy Lucius Fox refuses to continue being the caped crusader’s right hand man. We can boil this down to the very concept of Batman: if a truly good man becomes a vigilante, is he still the good guy? Decades of comics say yes, but they also detail how Batman’s very image helped give birth to vigilantes on the other side of justice.
It’s Batman who gave the world permission to house a Joker.
In The Prestige, which I am about to spoil, we find two competing magicians, one who proves to be a stellar practitioner of prestidigitation, and another who seeks the use of real magic (or more accurately, mad science) in order to be considered the best in the business. But whereas the former can trust his methods implicitly, the latter has thrust himself into a reality that could randomly end his life on any given night. And for what gain? A reputation that he cannot enjoy, and an art form that can no longer be appreciated for what it is. He kills his love in multiple ways throughout the film.
In Memento, we meet a man who chooses instant catharsis over truth, and he leaves a trail of blood in his wake.
In Insomnia, we find a cop who, in an effort to cover his own ass, throws true justice down the drain.
But most importantly, and most potently, is Oppenheimer, the story of a man who uses his powerful intellect to save the world from potential destruction, but in doing so he changes the very fabric of society. His creation saves the world from chaos while simultaneously dooming it. Like all of the Nolan protagonists who came before, he breaks the rules of engagement and finds himself a world he can no longer recognize, with full knowledge that it’s his own damn fault.
Which brings me back to Twin Peaks: The Return. Fans of the show are likely familiar with Agent Dale Cooper’s quest back to the titular town after escaping a long imprisonment in the otherworldly Black Lodge. But instead of hopping in a car and heading to his destination, he must first come back to the reality he knows and loves. And he has to do so while trapped in the body of Dougie Jones, a vessel over which poor Coop has little control. He goes on quite an adventure that, while not one-to-one with The Odyssey plot-wise, still follows a similar path of a hero fighting against all odds, many of which are supernatural, to get home.
The connection to Nolan’s pet theme, which was most explicitly expressed in Oppenheimer, comes in the now legendary seventh episode of Lynch’s magnum opus, in which we see the event that first stirred the dark forces of the Black Lodge, unleashing an indelible evil into human existence: the dawn of the nuclear bomb. By pressing up to the very edge of darkness and creating an inherently evil weapon, humanity invited a darkness into our realm that can never be wiped away. Pandora’s Box is now open.
For my whole life, the idea of the Trojan Horse has always been held in high regard. It’s an event of profound cleverness that gave the good guys the edge over the bad guys. It was proof positive that a little ingenuity and a lot of elbow grease could overcome physical might. It was portrayed as the ultimate form of brains over brawn. But with Nolan’s adaptation, which features a more introspective Odysseus, the Trojan Horse is viewed as a grand successful, but an evil one at that. Sure, it helped to get our hero and his men on the road home, but in breaking the contract of civilization, they ushered in an era of acceptable deceit, where men can justify their evils for an amorphous “greater good.” And if you’re on the other side of your enemy’s perceived greater good, welp, tough luck.
This is where I get on my own high horse and note that here in the real world, we’ve ridden the wave of “that’s bad, but it’s okay when I do it” all the way to having a soulless, poopy-diapered sex offender sitting on the most powerful throne in all of human history. Luckily his legend will not be one we smile upon.
I digress.
So yeah, Christopher Nolan took a plot-heavy story, which utilized a structure of “and then and then and then and then,” and turned it into an exciting, thematically dense epic, complete with characters that have much more to them than the source material would ever allow. He took a tale of ancient heroism and made it relevant and contemporary, while still preserving the bells and whistles of the period. It’s a masterful, stirring piece of cinema.
And it has a few flaws.
First and foremost — and this may just be a matter of taste than a mark against the film — I think Tom Holland is miscast. He fits the bill of what I sense Nolan was going for, but for all the recognizable superstars in this stacked cast, his is the one face I could not make myself forget. Damon, Hathaway, Leguizamo, Pattinson — all of them are chewing scenery and inhabiting their characters. Holland is more of a blank slate. The whole time I was thinking “WHY ISN’T YOUR SPIDEY SENSE TINGLING?!” I like the guy, and there’s no denying his talent, but he didn’t work for me here.
Second, and most glaringly, Nolan is not and has never been skilled at shooting fisticuffs. Large, sweeping action is something he does uncommonly well, but when it comes to a fist fight, he always fails to make it exciting or even palatable to the eyes. There’s a big rumble toward the end of this film that is structured extremely well in macro, but it fails in the nuts and bolts of combat. I think Nolan might benefit from hiring someone to help him build such sequences.
But that’s it. Otherwise, this flick is damn near perfect and it deserves multiple viewings on the biggest screens you can manage. Get it out of the way now so you don’t have to catch up before the Oscars, in which this will certainly be a heavy player. My money is on Matt Damon taking home the gold. I’ll have to see who he’s up against to decide if I agree, but from where I’m standing it wouldn’t be undeserved.
Ya know how celebs will often campaign for Oscars? There was a time before it was common, but once one person did it, it became the standard.
