The Over rated Odyssey

I love going to the movies. There’s something almost ritualistic about it, the buttery smell of popcorn lingering in the air, the sticky sweetness of fountain pop in your hand, and the quiet excitement of settling into a recliner that somehow feels more comfortable than your own couch. It’s one of the few places where you can sit in the dark with a room full of strangers and collectively experience something for the first time. There’s an unspoken connection in that shared silence, in the laughs, the gasps, and the tension that fills the room. It’s why I keep going back.

So when The Odyssey was released in theatres, I kept hearing the same thing over and over again: “You have to go see it,” “It’s meant for the big screen,” “It’s one of the best films I’ve seen in a while.” The praise was constant, almost overwhelming. Despite not being particularly drawn to the trailer, it looked like a fairly standard action film to me. I decided to trust the hype. Maybe this was one of those movies that simply didn’t translate well in previews. I walked into the theatre determined to keep an open mind.

To start with the positives, the casting was undeniably strong. Matt Damon delivered a performance that was almost unrecognizable; he fully committed to his character in a way that made him feel real rather than performative. Anne Hathaway proved, once again, that if a role requires emotional depth, especially crying, she can deliver it convincingly. Tom Holland continues to appear everywhere lately, and while his presence is familiar, it didn’t necessarily elevate the film. Charlize Theron, however, stood out in a way that felt grounded and compelling. Overall, the casting choices were thoughtful and effective.

But then the movie began, and I was already bored. That’s never a great sign. I reminded myself to stay patient, that maybe it was just a slow start. Not every film needs to grab you immediately. Still, as the scenes unfolded: fight sequences, emotional confrontations, dramatic moments. I found myself feeling nothing. The dialogue often felt awkward, as though it was trying too hard to stay faithful to Homer’s original text without adapting it naturally for a modern audience. Instead of sounding powerful or poetic, many lines simply didn’t land.

The pacing didn’t help. The film spent a significant amount of time on scenes that felt drawn out, particularly the repeated storms at sea. These moments should have been filled with tension and uncertainty, but instead they felt predictable and repetitive. Scenes I had already seen in countless other movies. There was no real sense of danger, no urgency that made me worry about the characters. It all felt strangely flat.

Some choices were not just ineffective, but uncomfortable. The inclusion of animal cruelty—specifically the abuse of a dog and the unnecessary image of puppies being thrown off a cliff—felt excessive and distracting. Rather than adding emotional weight, it pulled me out of the film entirely. It left me feeling unsettled in a way that didn’t serve the story. Ironically, I found myself reacting more strongly to those moments than to the deaths of human characters, which says a lot about how disconnected I felt from the narrative.

Even scenes that should have been intense missed the mark. The cyclops sequence, for example, had potential to be terrifying, but instead felt oddly sanitized. There was a lack of realism in the violence; it didn’t feel threatening, just artificial. If the intention was to maintain a broader rating, it came at the cost of impact. The creature looked unsettling, yes, but the stakes didn’t feel real. It was hard to be afraid when everything felt so muted.

As the movie continued, I kept waiting for something to click…for a moment that would pull me in, make me care, or at least hold my attention. It never really happened. The film is clearly well-crafted from a technical standpoint; you can see the effort, the scale, the ambition to create something “epic.” But effort alone doesn’t guarantee emotional engagement. For me, it never crossed that threshold.

By the time the credits rolled, I was left with a simple feeling: meh. not anger, not even strong disappointment I just felt indifferent towards the film. It wasn’t the transformative, unforgettable experience everyone had promised. It felt like something I could have easily waited to watch on a streaming service, rather than paying to see it in theatres.

Maybe revisiting Homer’s The Odyssey would deepen my appreciation. Maybe there are layers I missed. Or maybe this is just one of those films that works for everyone else but not for me. Either way, it reminded me of something important: even in a place as magical as a movie theatre, not every story will move you; and that’s okay.