What makes a hero? A Christian review of “The Odyssey”

Christopher Nolan’s take on the 2,800-year-old epic poem, “The Odyssey,” is one of the summer’s most anticipated films, and it’s easy to see why. Outside of the fact that Nolan just doesn’t seem to make bad movies, it’s also the first time anyone has attempted to depict this classic tale on the big screen in more than 70 years.

Perhaps part of the reason for such a long gap is that elements of the story are so foundational to the way we see the ideas of heroism, struggle, and family that they pop up in other mediums often enough that we never really feel the original’s absence. The film is worth seeing, though, and the nearly three-hour runtime feels much shorter as Nolan crafts a story that jumps through time in a way that’s simultaneously disorienting yet clarifying for following along with Odysseus’s journey and the family he left behind. 

Moreover, much of the controversy surrounding elements like casting choices is quickly forgotten once the story starts. Elliot Page does not play Achilles, despite frequent rumors to the contrary, though the transgender actor still looks out of place as a soldier, even when playing a physically weaker character. I also appreciated that, despite plot elements and characters that could have easily lent themselves to a more overtly sexualized portrayal, those elements were largely absent from the film as a whole. 

At its core, The Odyssey remains a story about a man trying to get home while wrestling with the question of whether he is worthy of doing so. While Nolan’s version takes liberties with the original tale, they’re mostly in service of helping the audience follow along with Odysseus as he struggles to find that answer.

And understanding that struggle is important because, in many ways, it highlights the best answer our culture can offer and why that answer still falls woefully short of what we need.

Is it enough to be better?

I’m not sure if you can spoil a story that’s nearly 3,000 years old, but by the end of the film, Odysseus makes it home. The man he is when he arrives is quite different from the one who left, though. And, in Nolan’s telling, that’s largely what makes him a hero.

The saga tales about the Trojan Horse, infiltrating the otherwise impregnable walls of Troy, and creating the pathway to the Greeks’ final victory are ultimately viewed through a lens of shame rather than pride, and it’s only after coming to that realization and accepting the consequences of his actions that he feels worthy of reuniting with his family. 

Owning our mistakes, rather than attempting to hide from them or explain them away, is a necessary corrective to so much of what’s wrong in how our world views sin. The problem is that it leaves little room for true redemption. 

On our own, the best we can hope for is that the desire to avoid repeating our past mistakes helps us to become better people going forward. Those memories can—and should—inspire us to change, but to what extent are people really capable of that? 

In one of the film’s more poignant scenes, Odysseus vows to protect his men from themselves, only to be told that it’s not up to him. And, to an extent, that’s true for all of us. 

Even the best versions of who we are capable of being will fall short of the people God has created and called us to be. We can try to be better, we can learn from our mistakes, and we can vow not to repeat them, but our fallen nature will eventually win the day. 

On some level, I think most people understand that. It’s why we find stories like The Odyssey inspiring. It’s why we identify with the flawed heroes who fail and long to see them restored.

And it’s why, apart from God, we will never find that longing fully satisfied.

New or improved?

The truth is that God has instilled in each of us a basic awareness of the fact that we are called to be more than we are capable of becoming on our own. However, if we’re not careful, that awareness will get buried under the desire to settle for something we can achieve without turning to the Lord. 

If acknowledging our mistakes and striving to do better is enough, then we’ve lowered the bar to a standard that any human can meet. Doing so assumes a degree of eventual failure that lessens its sting and embraces its inevitability as simply part of the human condition. And, this side of heaven, such failure truly is inevitable, even when we have the Holy Spirit to help. 

There will never come a moment when we have to sin, but enough of our fallen nature remains that we eventually will. So, what will you do when those moments come? 

In the world’s telling, the key is to learn from our mistakes and strive to be better. But that still leaves those mistakes as the defining characteristics of who we are. Any changes we make, or personal improvements that come, are still based in an identity of failure. 

God wants more for us than that, and he offers a new identity in Christ that not only forgives our mistakes but banishes them as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12). In Jesus, we can find true restoration and redemption; the kind that makes us new rather than just improved (2 Corinthians 5:17).

But we can’t do it on our own. We were never meant to. 

That’s good news if we can have the humility to accept it.

Can you?