Christopher Nolan's Odyssey

At war within me is always the pedantic Latin grammar teacher versus the creative writer and maker.

This battle came into sharp focus a couple of weeks ago when with my husband and some members of my adult Latin class I went to watch Christopher Nolan's massive film, The Odyssey.  Delightfully we went to see it at our local cinema, also entitled The Odyssey.

I appreciated that the book is of huge length and Nolan had to omit some episodes. I was fine with the American accents. After all, the original was written by Homer, not Chaucer, Shakespeare or Dickens.  

I liked that he tried to shoehorn some meaning about 'breaking Zeus's law' which he reinterpreted as 'do as you would be done by'.

BUT what tickled up the inner pedant in me was where Nolan filmed an episode and left out some bits. Like when Polyphemus the Cyclops asked Odysseus his name and Odysseus replied 'Nobody', so later, when the other Cycopes asked Polyphemus,' Who has hurt you?' he would reply 'Nobody' and they would all shrug and go about their business.

Or when Hermes appears and tells Odysseus about the holy moly herb he would need to defeat Circe.

In each case, they were missing and I wanted to yell, 'You're missing out a good bit.'

Does this mean my inner pedant is triumphing over the artist in me?

Later in the week, I had lunch with a friend and her baby. Apparently, when my friend reads to her tiny girl, she grows indignant when her mother misses a bit. In common with many small children, she always wants the whole well-known tale complete and unaltered.

I feel this vindicates me. It shows that after all, I'm in touch with my inner child, not my inner pedant.

Werewolf

The earliest stories about werewolves are in Latin literature.  When I teach fabula mirabilis in the Cambridge Latin Course, I make it spooky for the children with candles and creepy sound effects.

I also have a happy schooldays memory of the werewolf story from Petronius.  The way I translated it made it sound as if the werewolf was exposing himself.  My lovely teacher, Yvonne Simmons, roared with laughter – “It’s not that kind of story, Clare.”

So you’d think I’d be alright with werewolves.

But I’m not.

They are my pet fear.

So when Ann and Steve invited Nigel and I to go and see An American Werewolf in London, my first impulse was to say “No”.

“Oh come on, Clare.  It’s very tongue in cheek.”

Surely I am now grown up enough to sit through a light-hearted horror movie?

I could do this.  I really could.

“Look,” said Steve, “Great seats – right at the front.”

Turns out that I am now so grown up that I lasted only half an hour – even less than last time.

Luckily the Odyssey has a cool bar and I have a Kindle. 

After an hour of sipping a G & T and reading Naomi Alderman’s The Power, I began to believe that we women would one day gain world dominance.

This is possibly even more improbable than the existence of werewolves but at least it took my mind off them.