time of apparent magic …” begins this herculean endeavor, though this opening line doesn’t exactly prepare audiences for what is to come. In fact, it takes notable minutes before the aforementioned mystical elements arise; for most of the first act, realism is undoubtedly at the forefront. From rowdy celebrations in a palatial dining hall to an enormous wooden horse washing up on the beach, there’s a certain grounded nature to the visuals, which is steadfastly retained up until a famous one-eyed nemesis turns up.

“We can’t live by omens and sacrifices.” The gods may walk among the common people, but they rarely show themselves, instead merely serving to sway those who believe in their powers. King Agamemnon (Benny Safdie) has launched a multi-year campaign against Troy, taking top general Odysseus (Matt Damon) away from his beloved home of Ithaca – and from his wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway) and son Telemachus (Tom Holland). After many of the men eventually return, including Menelaus (Jon Bernthal), it is feared that Odysseus might be dead, prompting Telemachus to seek out information from neighboring cities, and forcing his mother to court the idea of remarrying so that the throne can once again be filled.

As if wishing to immediately betray director Christopher Nolan’s penchant for chronological disorder, “The Odyssey” rearranges its timeline into flashbacks and reminiscences and daydreams and futuristic visions, jumping from beginning to end and back again – even circling around the sacking of Troy so that it features prominently in every act. And the introductory sequences don’t shy away from dialogue, utilizing extensive conversations to attempt to sort out all of the names and places that will soon be consequential. It’s a star-studded cast, too, including Robert Pattinson, Lupita Nyong’o, Zendaya, Charlize Theron, Samantha Morton, Mia Goth, John Leguizamo, and more, some of whom take away from getting lost in the historical fiction, particularly when they fail to disappear into their roles.

A portion of the story follows Telemachus as he grapples with seeing his family lose power, but the primary focus is on Odysseus’ journey home, conveyed through vignette-like episodes of otherworldly adversities, brought about from seemingly offending the gods. Thundering music by Ludwig Goransson dramatically amplifies the intensity of sets, props, costumes, and battles, shifting between deep percussive sounds and eerier, synthetic tones. It matches Nolan’s interpretation of Greek mythology, which is a far cry from the now-classic depictions seen in the worlds of Ray Harryhausen. Here, the traditional sword-and-sandal peplum is upgraded to a near extraterrestrial vibe, substituting outmoded stop-motion concoctions with wild CGI grotesqueries; it’s as if Nolan wishes to reinvent how viewers should understand the most enduring of poems, transforming giant knights into Gort-like juggernauts and a many-headed monster into a tentacled, formless sort of alien. It’s thrust upon the audience rather abruptly as well, considering that the early sequences dwell on realistic warfare and sailing, never really disrupting the suspension of disbelief; yet when the cyclops appears, it’s suddenly quite fantastical, fully embracing the concept of a modernized voyage into Hell.

It’s not faulty, exactly, with this unique take. Yet it champions a clash between the realm of believability and high fantasy, routinely feeling as if two separate visions of storytelling – such as when the narrative of ambitious people yearning to conquer doesn’t seem to dwell in the same space as that of warriors getting duped by a witch with the ability to shapeshift her victims (a wonderfully repulsive scene that borrows from “The Island of Dr. Moreau” and “The Company of Wolves”). Ironically, Nolan’s moviemaking dichotomy is perfectly visualized with Scylla and Charybdis – one a nearly indescribable, exotic, lusus naturae, the other a mere whirlpool.

For all its attempts at fury and grandness – many of which definitely get the pulse pounding – “The Odyssey” labors on occasion with its anticipated, patience-trying runtime. Although it zips along here and there, it intermittently meanders, striving to maintain excitement as it sticks to a morbidly dark, serious, levity-free series of misadventures – perhaps wishing to be closer to “Gladiator” yet coming across with more similarities to “The Green Knight.” And it’s somewhat deflating or anticlimactic to accept that unseen, divine beings meddle and control the lives of the heroes, crafting their successes or defeats. Still, as sinuous as the storytelling may be, paired with regularly chaotic choreography that obscures the most violent encounters (it’s a surprisingly timid R-rating), it’s difficult to dismiss the potency of the source material; the bones of Homer’s epic provide an exceptional architecture for Nolan to craft his routinely rousing, heavy-hitting script.

– Mike Massie