By Caleb Speakman, Graduate Student in Classics
The Odyssey is a text that speaks with many voices, reflecting both the rich oral tradition that stands behind the poem and the multidimensional character of its protagonist, the wily Odysseus. I want to consider the convergence of these two underlying sources of complexity by looking at the Homeric literary technique called the epithet. Important research in the twentieth century marshalled evidence to suggest the Iliad and the Odyssey were the product of long-standing oral traditions; much of this evidence rested on the formulaic nature of the poems. Repeated formulas facilitated extemporaneous composition by allowing the bard to fill out verses with familiar phrases and terms. The epithet is an example of this formulaic language. The characters of the Iliad and the Odyssey, both human and divine, are described with stock descriptions that capture characteristic aspects of their appearance, nature, proclivities, and actions.
For example, the goddess Athena is frequently described as “owl-eyed” or “grey-eyed,” often at the end of a line of dactylic hexameter, the set rhythm of each line of Homeric verse. The warrior Achilles, the main character of the Iliad, is often referred to as “swift of foot” for his athletic prowess. The god Zeus is “the bearer of the aegis” for his signature goat-skin shield. Prominent characters have many epithets, often allowing their name to fit into different parts of the rhythm of each line.
Odysseus is no exception. Just as the story draws on oral traditions, and we consequently find a multilayered story in which multiple concerns, tones, and twists can coexist, so Odysseus–ever the metapoetic figure–has a complex of characteristics. Odysseus is anything but straightforward, hence the Odyssey begins by asking the Muse to tell of a polytropos man. The Greek word is as evasive as the man it describes, and much ink has been spilt over the question of proper English translations. Fortunately, however we translate it (complicated, wily, tricky, versatile, cunning, much-traveling, multifaceted), it applies well to the character of Odysseus.
Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey focalizes certain attributes of the Homeric Odysseus at the expense of others, shying away from the messy nature of the character and the many layered voices of the poem. In their place, Nolan constructs a more palatable and easily comprehensible character and tells a story with a single tone: the somber and tragic. His tragic vision cannot encompass the moments of silliness and trickery in the poem (e.g., Odysseus’ “No-man” trick he pulls on Polyphemus drops from the story altogether). That is not to say that the film does not represent facets of the character true to the original text. Nolan engages with two constellations of epithets, i.e., those about endurance and long-suffering, such as polytlas (“much-enduring”), talasiphrōn (“enduring of mind”), tlēmōn (“steadfast/enduring”), and those about martial prowess, courage, and warfare, such as the “city-sacker,” “great-hearted,” and “bold.”
Nolan’s Odysseus suffers. The film focalizes the trauma of the Trojan war and casts Odysseus as a regretful and traumatized figure. It does not shy away from the brutality of the sack of Troy and even shows Odysseus’ men ransack a village for supplies. In Nolan’s adaptation, Odysseus, the author of the trick which let the Greeks sack Troy, stands aloof from the violence and regrets his role in it. Odysseus endures his suffering at sea and seems helpless as his crew rejects his leadership–and ultimately the prophecy of Tiresias–time and time again.
While Nolan well captures certain aspects of the character, the lens of the epithet allows us to highlight just what is missing from Nolan’s portrayal. The word polytropos belongs to a constellation of epithets that draw out Odysseus as a trickster figure, who relies on his cunning and skill to conquer and to survive. These epithets can be translated, for example, as “very cunning,” “very resourceful,” and “very intelligent.” Professor Haselswerdt has already emphasized in her post one of the major ways these attributes come into play: Odysseus’ many disguises and the elaborate web of lies he spins to maintain them. He relies on tricks and skilled oratory throughout the text.
Playing Odysseus straight has many impacts on Nolan’s adaption of the Homeric story; one example is illustrative. Odysseus’s epithets of cunning find a parallel in Penelope’s. She, too, is described as very clever and intelligent. She too plays tricks. The reunion of these two complicated characters in the Odyssey, therefore, cannot be straightforward, but rather is a convoluted series of negotiations in which Odysseus must confirm his identity. Nolan smooths this over: Odysseus easily proves himself by showing the pin Penelope gave him. Gone are the two tricksters unraveling each other’s contrivances, each a match for the other. The many notes that achieve their harmony in Odysseus’ and Penelope’s final reunion are reduced to a tearful and straightforward homecoming.
