It would be audacious to suggest that Christopher Nolan’s recent adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey is a terrible film. And yet, there is a cabal of cheeto-stained keyboard wielders suggesting the film is nothing more than ‘woke’ propaganda over the casting of a mythological character who was born from a swan egg. One famous Ketamine addict got into an internet squabble with scholar Tom Holland (not the actor of said film) and claimed AI would make a “historically accurate” version…of a fictional tale with a cyclops, witches, and gods feuding over a war we’re not even sure actually happened. Even Emily Wilson, recent translator of a controversial edition of the Odyssey, penned a scathing review. I know it’s been a while since an adaptation not made by Disney was about to reach a billion dollars at the box office, but what in the name of Nobody is going on?!

First, let’s just address the historical accuracy part here because those willing to hedge their entire identity on whether or not a film adaptation of an oral story told almost 3,000 years ago in the same century the mythological founding of Rome occurred are really assuming we have more concrete (or iron) evidence than we actually do. The story of the Odyssey was told around the 8th century BC following a dark age in Greek history, referring to a period where we’re missing a lot of information, and in those hundreds of years, many civilizations collapsed like Mycenae (where Agamemnon was supposedly king). There is no evidence that Odysseus was a real person outside of his heroic tale, little evidence regarding the Trojan War despite Heinrich Schliemann‘s attempt at uncovering it with dynamite, and we have no idea if Homer was even a real person or many different authors like the writing credits of a Taylor Swift song. So why are we so hung up on accuracy?

I’m sincerely of the belief that films are not meant to be documentaries, but the storytelling and purpose of the adaptation has more to say about the moment and people in time in which the film was created. In that way, films are, in and of themselves, primary sources of the time period they are made in rather than purporting to be the historical artifact many critics wish for. Does it matter if the costumes aren’t period appropriate or if they used real-life Viking ships? When we consider movie-making effort, there are visual decisions that supersede accuracy. Doesn’t Agamemnon look like a foreboding and powerful figure without ever taking off his Batman-like helmet, similar to the screen presence of Darth Vader? And would it have been possible to stage all of the scenes on a Greek trireme nearly as well? What matters in a film such as this is the story that is being told to a modern audience and the overarching thesis. When that differs from the original it is not always a bad thing–it’s an interesting creative choice that attempts to connect with a modern-day understanding that intertwines with our past.

Troy (2004) faced similar backlash, but the concepts of national pride, fighting for one’s country, and the senselessness of war were a explicitly Bush-era notions rather than having any semblance of reality for ancient Greeks. Marie Antoinette (2006) was also heavily criticized for anachronisms while Coppola cheekily snuck in a pair of Converse shoes in the film, but those critics missed her intentional comparison of the opulent and destructive naivety of the 2000’s youth culture with a not-so-subtle nod to Hollywood royalty of the time like Paris Hilton.

So what is Christopher Nolan trying to tell us with his adaptation of the Odyssey, a story that’s been retold on film numerous times?

Odysseus is painted with less glory and cunning than his original counterpart, but this is nowhere near as offensive as Emily Wilson purports it to be. Nolan’s characterization stands alongside a pedigree of other faulty tragic heroes who contemplate a duty and the heavy weight of their own genius. Nolan’s Odysseus compares directly to Gotham’s Dark Knight, part of Odysseus’ struggle to protect and defend his crew despite their sins or whether or not they even deserve it paralleling Batman’s duty to his city. Odysseus is actively haunted by his mistakes throughout the film; like Oppenheimer, he experiences a sickening guilt around his ingenious idea of the Trojan Horse and despairs over the consequence portrayed in the film as a loss of Xenia (Zeus’ Law). Interstellar showcased a similar struggle to get home, with Cooper’s love for his daughter transcending space and time to get back to her, a loyalty to love mirrored by Penelope’s stubborn refusal to give up on her husband and Odysseus’ dog Argos living far beyond his years to see his master return. Odysseus belongs more to Nolan in the film than he does Homer, but again, this is not a bad thing.

The Odyssey also belongs to us.

The culture of ancient Greece in which the story takes place would have put an exorbitant emphasis on the concept of Kleos or glory. In it, a person’s renown and reputation in the spoils of war overcame feelings of guilt or shame as portrayed in the film. Telemachus would have concerned himself more with whether or not his father died with honor than if he were alive at all. Let’s also not forget that one of Odysseus’ more deplorable acts in the original telling, having Hector’s baby son thrown from the walls of Troy, did not make it into the film because to a modern audience, this would have been an irredeemable act with no glory in it at all. Instead, people of today find honor in accountability, and there is a respect for men who do great things but have the insight to admit their wrongdoings. And though classicists may complain about the portrayal of a man ridden in guilt, we know as a modern people that Odysseus would have certainly experienced symptoms of PTSD (a diagnosis that didn’t become official until 1980), a narrative that makes sense to us and brings understanding to many of his choices in the film such as his avoidance of returning immediately home, unbridled aggression towards the Cyclops, haunting through flashbacks and the spectre of Athena, and pain in the Siren’s song.

In fact, as a modern audience, we care less about the trials and tribulations that marked Odysseus with glory in past retellings and more about whether he makes it home successfully to defend his son and wife from ravenous suitors. He saves his home and family, enacts revenge on those we’ve deemed deserving, and apologizes to the audience for his sins (a distinctly Christian idea). The overarching theme of the film also rests on the question, “At what cost?” Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter to win the Trojan war and ends up in the Underworld. Odysseus betrays Sinon and fails to defend a priestess from a barbaric beheading, violating sacred law. His crew kills and eats the cattle of Apollo and earn their deaths, Calypso tricks and keeps Odysseus for herself angering Zeus and preventing a husband and father from returning home, the Greeks eager for their victorious homecoming ransack and destroy much of Greece on their way, Penelope waits for Odysseus but her kingdom appears vulnerable and unmanaged without a king.

We ask ourselves this question now. At what cost do we continue to rage meangingless wars like the one in the Middle East? At what cost do we over-rely on AI as jobs dwindle, brains atrophy, and data centers siphon needless amounts of energy? At what cost are we losing our basic humanity as politicians continue to pit people against each other as they line their pockets while we’re too busy fighting to look? The movie demonstrates the consequence of blindly following a king into war over a lie with the sole purpose of enriching himself and then shows all the misery and destruction of civilization that follows. Seems a bit poignant, no?

“Nolan’s Odyssey lacks many of the elements that make the poem great. It has nothing convincing to say about time, memory, history, war, or about the relationship between one warrior’s glorious return and the lives of his family, adversaries, comrades, friends and neighbours. It lacks psychological, emotional, political and ethical depth. Its narrative structure is gimmicky. The writing is abysmal. None of the characters has convincing motivation for their actions or words. There are no sex scenes, and all the food looks horrible.”

Emily Wilson 2026

The Odyssey isn’t meant to be a faithful adaptation of the original, nor do we need it to be. Instead, the film stands as a testament to humanity and our ability to connect to a shared story from thousands and thousands of years ago, retold as many times and by various different authors over centuries, just like with Homer(s). Let us instead judge the film on its own merit, not whether it matches the interpretation of a single scholar.

From one history nerd to another, it’s okay. Sometimes being historically inaccurate is a more powerful message.