'The Return' Review

A demythologized but loving adaptation of Homer

(Centuries old spoilers follow)

It has always been a source of wonder to me that there are not more mainstream movies adapting stories from Homer. One would think that the epics which have formed a wellspring for so much of Western literature and philosophy and inspired countless retellings would also provide a fertile source for more (faithful) film adaptations than currently exist. It is not, however, my intention to inquire into the possible causes of, or exceptions from, this trend. Instead, these overly broad generalizations are merely a preamble to explain why, when I first saw the trailer for The Return I was intrigued and hopeful: here was a film that looked grounded, staring a great actor, and staying fairly close, from what one could tell, to the last part of The Odyssey. And for the most part, I was not disappointed.

As far as the technical aspects of this film go, the cinematography is beautiful, showcasing the Mediterranean setting in which the film was shot, and giving the island of Ithaca a character of its own, full of hills and tree, washed by unfriendly seas. Ralph Fiennes, as one might expect, turns in a great performance as the weary and wandering hero, emotional and vulnerable, but still intimidating at need. The rest of the cast also deliver good performances, especially Juliette Binoche as Penelope, whose regal presence and strength make you believe she has held the suiters in check for ten years, even while her more emotional scenes give the viewer a glimpse of the desperate side of her which must exist even if Homer does not let us see it. Charlie Plummer as Telemachus and Claudio Santamaria as Eumaeus also have solid, if not remarkable performances. A surprising standout is Marwan Kenzari who plays Antinous, a role much enlarged from the original poem, for better or worse.

Speaking of standouts, Rachel Portman crafts a beautiful score reminiscent of some of Philip Glass’s best cinematic work. Portman is one of the most underrated composers working today, and one of the few whose music manages to transcend, as all truly great film music does, the original context for which it is written. The score in the opening scene creates an ambiance simultaneously full of serenity and conflict which underlies some of the most emotional scenes in the film. I some, such as Penelope’s weaving, or even parts of the final massacre, there is no dialogue, and the music is allowed to come to the fore and create, as well as back, the driving force of the narrative. The score is also relatively short – less than forty minutes – meaning that there is not much uninteresting filler resulting in a more listenable and qualitative work.

The central question, however, when reviewing an Odyssey movie, is: how does it compare to Homer? As already indicated, to me, at least, I think the answer is: fairly well, with some exceptions. In any adaptation, of course, there are editorial choices which must be made, and some which do not need to be made but are made anyway. In this particular adaptation, there were a number of decisions made on lesser plot points which could certainly be questioned: giving Antinous a larger role in the film, killing off Laertes – who is not even named – reducing the number of suitors to less than a score, and making Telemachus sail off at the end of the film instead of Odysseus. These differences, while perhaps adding or subtracting points of value from the film do not, to my mind, affect the central elements of the story. One major difference, however, is the absence of the divine or supernatural in the film. Gone is Athena, and even her human avatar Mentor, gone is any mention of cyclopes, sirens, or any other mythological being. No Jovian thunder ends the story, and no quest to appease Poseidon. Indeed, there are subtle but noticeable lines that preclude or contradict mythological plotlines present in the epic. Telemachus, instead of visiting Menelaus and Helen, claims to have met a man who tells him that Odysseus is living on an island “with another woman.” Odysseus, instead of arriving with treasure given him by Phaeacians, washes up apparently from a wrecked ship. Perhaps most intriguingly, Odysseus, while viewing his father’s body, remarks that “the dead are the lucky ones” a sentiment certainly not supported by his trip to the underworld in Book 11 of The Odyssey. There was only one hint at a reference to the gods that I could spot, apart from the coins placed on Laertes’ eyes: Odysseus, when left alone for the first time on Ithaca, bows to the ground and appears to ceremonially eat the soil and then glance upwards towards the sky, perhaps in gratitude to a higher power for his safe return. It is a strange moment and might easily be susceptible of a different explanation. This demythologizing of the story is by far the most significant change the movie makes, and it does alter the ways the characters behave, and how we view them.

There are many downsides to this omission, of course, not the least of which is to make Odysseus’ attempt to take back his homeland more hopeless, since he is not supported by Athena. Instead of focusing on the negative, however, I prefer to see the bright side of this particular vision for the poem. The movie is at its best in its grounded tone and practical effects, and when the plot focuses tightly on human relationships and psychology. Both these elements could be compromised by a poorly judged representation of divine beings, and so the choice to omit them makes for a more cohesive film. To put it another way, a version of the gods which relied on special effects or made them more naturalistic or portrayed the in some other strange way might have gone further towards spoiling the film for me than leaving them out altogether. After all, there is more than enough material left without the gods, and it is the human characters which provide the heart of the story in any case.

So, how are central characters portrayed? As stated earlier, Ralph Fiennes puts in a fine performance and is entirely believable as a war-scarred veteran. One of the downsides of only treating the last act of The Odyssey, however, even though it is almost essential for a normal length film in order to preserve the unity of action desired by Aristotle, is that the viewer is missing an enormous amount of information about Odysseus. Some of this omission might be made up by the general knowledge of the viewer. The film itself also makes ignorance about his activates a major theme, since we view Odysseus through the eyes of those he left behind. Still, the shortened story means we see a man who is at the end of his character arc, and the audience must be sold on the psychological journey he has taken. For the most part I was sold, and if the film stood by itself, the viewer might have no more questions. In comparison to the Odysseus of the last half of The Odyssey, however, the broken man presented by The Return is significantly less impressive. He shows less wit, strength, and cleverness than the original, and in his scenes with Penelope, he is left with hardly anything to say, a far cry from the shrewd and quick-witted hero of the Odyssey, always ready with a lie and a scheme. Penelope, on the other hand, is almost as strong a character here as she is in the epic. She is more prone to emotion than portrayed by Homer, but as I said earlier, this is entirely believable. Telemachus, too, even though he goes so far as to attack his father, is convincingly within the range of possibility. Eumaeus, also I am happy to say, gets the upstanding and admirable treatment he deserves. Nonetheless, it is Odysseus who must carry the film, and while he does, it is as a slightly different and lesser man.

Do these shortcomings in character spoil the film? At least for me, they do not. What they do is support the central theme of this interpretation: the evils of violence. This is certainly a theme in The Odyssey, and so it is entirely legitimate to make it the central message. The danger, for me, lay in the possibility that the theme was to undercut the evident joy which the poem takes in the just death of the suiters. And while the death of Antinous is strangely pathetic, for the most part the film allows for an ambiguous presentation of violent justice: it does not celebrate the carnage, but it lets it play out at length and gives the viewer ample time and reason to feel satisfaction in the final slaughter. Indeed, the final battle was one of several moments which, for me, made the film worth watching: moments when the film seemed to understand and move with the spirit of the original poem, albeit with a touch of license. Moments such as Odysseus greeting Argos by name, to the wonder of Eumaeus, or Odysseus stringing his bow. Perhaps the most moving example, at least to me, however, is Penelope’s order to Telemachus, in a moment of anagnorisis, to give the bow to “your father.” Here is what modern cinema so badly lacks today: a portrait of a family working together, wife supporting husband, husband protecting his family, children growing in imitation of their parents, families healing together.

On the whole, The Return is a movie well worth seeing for the classically educated Catholic, or anyone who has read Homer. It presents a purely human retelling of the last part of The Odyssey with stellar performances from its two leads, and, most importantly, an obvious love for Homer. While the film has its shortcomings and limitations, it offers what one might optimistically hope for from such a film: a well-told, and mostly faithful adaptation of a great story.