Hollywood’s Take on the Odyssey: A Clash of Perspectives

Hollywood may attempt to erase figures like Achilles, reshape ideas of masculinity, and even make protagonists express regret, but there’s a sense that we can’t ignore the warnings from Homer. They suggest that civilization could crumble if people neglect their essential responsibilities. The latest adaptation of The Odyssey, directed by Christopher Nolan, has already grossed over $120 million in domestic box office, which means countless viewers will encounter his interpretation. For many, Nolan’s version could become the definitive “Odyssey,” marking this film as a battleground over how Western civilization gets portrayed to young audiences.

While Nolan might alter Homer’s narrative, the essential truths remain intact. Hollywood can reinterpret heroes, but the core moral laws—those can’t be changed.

The cinematic industry craves Homer’s foundational elements: his giants, epic battles, rulers, and themes of valor. Yet, it seems reluctant to embrace his moral framework.

A clear example is his portrayal of the underworld. In Homer’s narrative, Odysseus encounters Achilles, the Greeks’ most esteemed warrior. However, Nolan opts to exclude Achilles, replacing him with a character named Sinon, who doesn’t originate from Homer’s texts but is known largely from Virgil’s Aeneid. Here, Sinon is cast as an innocent victim and moral compass, with Odysseus declaring him the best soldier he’s ever met.

“Elliot” Page takes on the role of Sinon. This isn’t a reflection on Page’s ability or integrity; it’s about the symbolism. Casting choices convey messages just as powerfully as dialogue does. The narrative loses a defining figure of male strength in Western storytelling, while this newly introduced character assumes a central moral role, receiving high praise for his military prowess.

No matter what Nolan aimed for, the cultural implications are striking. The old heroes are being pushed aside, traditional notions of manhood are redefined, and past victors are demanded to apologize for their successes.

Homer doesn’t depict Odysseus as flawless. He showcases pride, deceit, and recklessness—qualities that both save lives due to his cleverness and, at times, lead to tragic consequences. These shortcomings don’t diminish his heroism; instead, they deepen his humanity. History tells us that truly great figures can be gravely flawed, as illustrated by King David in the Old Testament.

However, contemporary culture increasingly interprets male flaws as signs that their greatness might be suspect. Thus, Odysseus becomes akin to Robert Oppenheimer—a brilliant figure haunted by the weight of his own achievements. The Trojan Horse, once a symbol of cunning and triumph, now morphs into a haunting sin. Here, victory turns into guilt, and authority transforms into a burden. After returning home, Odysseus relinquishes his throne to Telemachus and walks away from Ithaca. This king now finds himself in exile.

This presents a stark moral reversal of Homer’s intent.

Homer never needed to undermine men to acknowledge women’s strength. Penelope stands as one of Western literature’s strongest female figures, who resiliently managed her household for two decades, safeguarded her son’s legacy, resisted unwelcome suitors, and outwitted those vying for her husband’s kingdom.

Upon Odysseus’ return, Penelope challenges him by instructing him to move their marriage bed, something he cannot do as it’s built around a living olive tree’s trunk. Homer crafted a narrative where strong husbands and intelligent wives coexist. Their strengths may differ, but they carry equal dignity.

The modern narrative often reduces equality to mere interchangeability, in which one gender must dominate the other or they must become identical. Homer offers a richer perspective: men’s valor does not diminish women’s strength, and a woman’s loyalty does not insult a man’s integrity. Odysseus and Penelope illustrate a great partnership where their differing attributes enhance their shared household.

So, why do modern elites continually return to these Western classics, only to dismantle them?

Because the classics reinforce that we are not self-made. We inherit legacies, histories, and obligations that shape our desires long before we arrive. This foundational understanding clashes with ideologies rooted in radical autonomy.

A young man respecting Odysseus might value courage, loyalty, and duty as commendable traits. A young woman admiring Penelope could see loyalty, wisdom, and domesticity as forms of strength. A child learning that even kings are accountable to a higher authority might ponder whether leaders, professors, and politicians are answerable to something greater than themselves.

This is why the hero is made to apologize, the father is forced to step down, the home is viewed as a confinement, and God is reframed as a mere psychological construct. These elites appear to not only challenge Western civilization; they seem to want its adherents to doubt their own legacy.

Interestingly, Nolan’s films uphold one of Homer’s main tenets. The characters routinely refer to what Nolan calls the “Laws of Zeus,” akin to a contemporary interpretation of the Golden Rule. For the Greeks, this was known as xenia—a sacred duty of hospitality fostering mutual respect between host and guest.

Penelope’s suitors are more than just rude intruders; they represent threats to civilization. They occupy Odysseus’ home, misappropriate his wealth, pursue his wife, and scheme against his son—taking advantage of an inheritance they did not earn while disregarding the responsibilities it entails.

Our cultural institutions—be it universities, museums, or entertainment companies—are built upon sacrifices and legacies of the past. Yet, today’s cultural leaders often use these platforms to promote the narrative that Western civilization is inherently flawed, Christianity oppressive, fathers authoritarian, and heroes deceivers. It’s as if they’re the suitors of Homer, criticizing those who built their legacy while benefiting from it.

Nolan’s references to Zeus’ laws denote a higher moral authority. Christians may not worship Zeus; they recognize that Homer’s deities are morally errant. Yet, even the ancient Greeks recognized that civilization relies on moral values that transcend mere human desires.

Christianity unveils the essence of the moral law. It teaches respect for strangers, marriage, family, and neighbors—all rooted in revering God. Without this divine foundation, the Golden Rule seems weak. Why would those in power choose restraint? Why sacrifice for the future? Why preserve an inheritance instead of simply consuming it? Societies cannot endure indefinitely based on moral traditions from religions they’ve since abandoned.

America needs families who value biblical teachings, educational institutions that confidently share classic literature, and churches that cultivate brave Christians instead of hesitant observers.

So, while Nolan may alter the narrative of The Odyssey, the essential truths remain unchanged. A man still seeks a home to return to, families crave safeguarding, civilizations need heroes, and nations require a higher authority.

Hollywood might reshape legendary figures, but the foundational laws—those remain unaltered.