Tag Archives: writer: homer

The Odyssey – a brief note

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F and I went to see Nolan’s The Odyssey yesterday, it being his 27th birthday. The Kinepolis complex in Brussels is one of only three IMAX 70 mm projectors sowing it in continental Europe (the other two are Montpelier and Copenhagen). However it is already booked up for weeks in advance, so we went instead to the IMAX cinema in Hasselt, an hour’s drive northeast of us. I must say having the huge screen was great, and although I had heard that the volume of the soundtrack is very loud, I think that in Hasselt at least it had been adjusted downwards for viewer comfort.

So, what did I think? It’s not long since I read Emily Wilson’s translation of the original, so it was reasonably fresh in my mind, and meant that there were certain set-pieces I was waiting for with interest, to see how they could be done – the Cyclops, Circe, the final showdown on Ithaca, this last also recently done by Claire North. I see some Homeric purists online complaining that this or that plot line or story element was left out. In general I don’t have much sympathy with that; the Homeric texts as we have them are presumably a synthesis from different sources, and I think every story-teller gets to tell it as they want (and some have varied a lot more than Nolan). Which is not to say that the choices made are above criticism, of course.

So I am not too worried about the softening of the protagonist’s character, or that Helen and Clytemnestra are played by the same Black actor (Lupita Nyong’o), or that Telemachus at one point calls Odysseus ‘Dad’, or the lengthy inclusion of the Trojan Horse, or even about the unbeatable robot soldiers. As the Economist reviewer says, ‘We are not arguing about “The Odyssey” when we argue about “The Odyssey”. We are arguing about ourselves.’

Having said that, there were a couple of bits that really didn’t work for me in dramatic terms. The Sirens just had vague shapes on a misty shore, with Matt Damon gurning while tied to the mast – curiously underplayed compared to the rest of the film. And Charlize Theron’s Calypso as the very professional but not very affectionate therapist for Odysseus’ PTSD, rather than the sexy beach nymph of Homer, makes the story rather Californian, as I saw someone somewhere put it.

But in general I liked it. I actually found the plot easier to follow than the original, though my sense is that it stuck fairly closely to Homer’s narrative order. Matt Damon is fine as Nolan’s version of Odysseus, and Tom Holland is fine as Telemachus. I thought Zendaya a bit underused as Athena, but Anne Hathaway is superb as Penelope, the most interesting character in the story. I loved the Cyclops and Circe, though in both cases Nolan tells a slightly different story to Homer. The prolonged fight sequences at the end sees Robert Pattinson’s sleazy Antinous eventually get his comeuppance, and is well enough shot that you barely have time to wonder how Ulysses and Telemachus can possibly defeat 120 suitors. Indeed the whole three hours passed rather quickly.

I imagine that this and Project Hail Mary will be duking it out for next year’s Hugo, and probably for other awards too. I think I’ll give The Odyssey the higher vote.

The Iliad, by Homer, tr. Emily Wilson

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Second paragraph (as traditionally demarcated) of Book 3 in the original Greek, and as translated by Emily Wilson, Chapman and Graves.

Original
εὖτ᾽ ὄρεος κορυφῇσι Νότος κατέχευεν ὀμίχλην
ποιμέσιν οὔ τι φίλην, κλέπτῃ δέ τε νυκτὸς ἀμείνω,
τόσσόν τίς τ᾽ ἐπιλεύσσει ὅσον τ᾽ ἐπὶ λᾶαν ἵησιν:
ὣς ἄρα τῶν ὑπὸ ποσσὶ κονίσαλος ὄρνυτ᾽ ἀελλὴς
ἐρχομένων: μάλα δ᾽ ὦκα διέπρησσον πεδίοιο.		Wilson
As on the peaks of some high mountaintop
the south wind, Notus, pours a fog so thick
that nobody can see beyond a stone’s throw-
unwelcome to the shepherds, but for thieves
better than night—so rose the cloud of dust
beneath their feet-they hurtled at such speed
across the plain.
Chapman
And as, upon a hill’s steep tops, the south wind pours a cloud,
To shepherds thankless, but by thieves that love the night, allow’d,
A darkness letting down, that blinds a stone’s cast off men’s eyes;
Such darkness from the Greeks’ swift feet (made all of dust) did rise.		Graves
Sheep-stealers love the cloud 
That hangs on every hill
Better than night’s black shroud;
They can do what they will:
For they go wandering free
(Long may the south wind last!)
Where shepherds cannot see 
Beyond a short stone-cast.
Much the same obscurity resulted from great clouds of dust which rose as the Trojan [sic] forces advanced at a double across the plain. 

After enjoying Wilson’s translation of The Odyssey last year, I really had to get the Iliad to compare. When I first read the Penguin Classics translation by E.V. Rieu, I wrote:

I preferred The Iliad somehow to The Odyssey. There is a wider range of characters, a broader range of settings, a continuing tension between the battlefields of Troy and the realm of the gods. Indeed, I found the continuing interference by rival divine authorities in human affairs strongly reminiscent of the Balkan / Levantine instinct for explaining contemporary human politics by conspiracy theory, resorting to unseen, unaccountable forces to explain what is going on. […]

Non-robot women get rather a raw deal in the Iliad. The quarrel between Achilles and the rest of the Greeks starts with a dispute over who gets to keep the captive women Briseis and Chryseis. In the funeral games for Patroclus, Ajax and Odysseus wrestle for a prize of a woman who is not named but is skilled in all domestic matters (Edited to add: she is worth four large oxen). Actually she is the consolation prize for the loser: the winner gets a nice big cauldron. (I am not making this up.) The match is declared a draw and Ajax and Odysseus are told by Achilles to split the prizes, but we are not told how they manage this (and perhaps we are better off not knowing).

Having said which, the goddesses Thetis, Athena, Hera and indeed the Trojan women, Hecuba and Andromache (and to an extent Helen) are all interesting characters in their own rights; as are most of the men, several of whom (this is hardly a spoiler) get horribly killed off during the conflict.

I was fascinated by the continuous tension between praise and horror of combat. It’s clear to me that Homer’s articulation of the warrior’s code of honour lies rhetorically behind an awful lot of subsequent eras’ jingoism and exhortation of young men to die stupidly. The battle scenes are pretty gory and get a bit repetitive, but there are moments of real power. Yet at the same time he is clear about the other side: moves towards peace-making are clearly a Good Thing, though torpedoed by human incompetence and divine malice; the last chapter has grieving Priam confronting Achilles over the body of his son Hector. 

On this reading, I found The Iliad less attractive than The Odyssey. The sheer grind of ongoing combat is far too familiar from the daily news, and although the gore is sometimes cartoonishly described, it’s difficult to take light-heartedly, along with the casual treatment of women as property – poor Briseis in particular! I also noted that a lot of the warriors are described as sons out of wedlock, which makes me wonder about the obligations of paternity and marriage at the time. And it’s very long, and even then doesn’t actually reach the conclusion which we all know is coming. But Wilson’s translation is fluid without being florid, and very comprehensible.

In my previous review I commented on the golden fembots in Book 18. I am very happy with Wilson’s translation here:

Slaves hurried to assist their lord. They were
made all of gold, but looked like living women.
They had a consciousness inside their hearts,
and strength and voices. They had learned their skills
from deathless gods.

As I said before, these surely must be the earliest robots in literature?

Anyway, it took me a month to read, a Book at a time, and I think I would recommend it despite my reservations. You can get The Iliad here.