Parallel Being

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Maaaannnnyyyy thoughts on #TheOdyssey (possible spoilers): ____ The control Christopher Nolan exercises over his cinema deserves to be studied. That he has mastered hero elevation should be evident to anyone who’s watched just Batman Begins. In The Odyssey, he reminds us once again that there can be no true elevation without… restraint. Here, the protagonist, Odysseus, must first suffer—and how he suffers. In the first half, he is at the mercy of an endless storm that rages both outside him and within. Death itself begins to look like mercy. And yet, this isn’t the noble endurance of Bruce Wayne. In fact, there's almost nothing noble about it. This is simply… punishment. This isn’t about learning to fight either. In fact, at one point, Odysseus is told: “Give up fight, give up control.” Submit. Take the leap of faith. Nolan’s films have embraced this idea before. In The Dark Knight Rises, Bruce Wayne can escape the well only after accepting, rather than fighting, his fear. It's a literal leap of faith. In Inception, Mal asks Cobb to do the same: “I’m asking you to take a leap of faith.” Nolan’s protagonists are told that the answer isn't to out-think, outmanoeuvre, or overpower. The solution is surrender. There’s something quietly beautiful, almost spiritual, about this recurring idea in his filmography. The Odyssey, much like Oppenheimer, is as much about inner chaos as it is about the external. And that's why that first half—where Odysseus and his crew repeatedly mistake danger for sanctuary—works best when you stop processing it literally. Each stop they make seems to expose a different human weakness. Cyclops exposes Odysseus’ ego, which makes him shoot an arrow when silence would have saved lives. Circe tempts by reducing people to what they are most like. The Sirens lure with desire. Helios’ Cattle reveals how hunger always trumps wisdom. Even Calypso, who genuinely loves him, exposes the pitfalls of choosing comfort over purpose. Seen this way, these pitstops no longer feel like arbitrary adventures inflicted upon a wandering crew, but stations of psychological growth that Odysseus must cross before earning his way home. Isn’t it fitting, then, that when he finally returns, he doesn't do so with the swagger of a king who conquered Troy with an ingenious idea? Having learned his lessons well, he enters Ithaca with the anonymity of a beggar. Even when he gets insulted and kicked about, his ego doesn't dictate his responses. As you can see, Nolan’s Odyssey repeatedly asks what it means to be a war hero. What does it really mean to win a war? More importantly, what does victory cost? The obvious answer is the individual psyche. But by the end, Nolan makes an even more devastating suggestion: as with Oppenheimer, that the world itself has been permanently altered for the worse. Yet again, an ingenious idea has redirected the course of civilisation. That’s why Zeus’ law of hospitality echoes throughout the film. Every horror seems like a violation of this fundamental law. Cyclops devours his guests. Circe strips them of their humanity. Calypso imprisons in the name of love. Eumaeus, meanwhile, becomes the one man who truly offers hospitality to a stranger, and remember that he does so, despite having been exploited by guests himself. Even the suitors ultimately feel like parasites, taking over a home that isn’t theirs while constantly demanding more. It’s, of course, why they are the villains in this film. Robert Pattinson is so good. The sneer. The contempt for those beneath him. The cowardice that hides behind his performative swagger. He makes Antinous easily disliked. One of my favourite scenes features him and Penelope (a terrific Anne Hathaway) in a moment when Nolan allows her to drop her guard and reveal her vulnerability. However, watch Anne’s eyes the moment Antinous hints that he may not accept Telemachus inheriting the throne. Actually, scratch that. Just watch her in every scene. Like the one with Tom Holland’s Telemachus, where she erupts like a primal volcano. It's chilling because it reveals the price she has paid for faith. And then, of course, she has that extraordinary scene towards the end where Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, speaks to her through a wooden lattice that refuses to let them fully see one another. It’s such a simple image, but one that says everything about two people separated by distance, by time, by disguise. Anne Hathaway is the emotional heartbeat of this film. Odysseus’ impossible journey back to Ithaca wouldn't affect us as much, if it weren't for Penelope's impossible wait. And that's why Nolan grounds the film right at the very beginning by setting the stakes during their conversation. I think the film is kinder to its women than the world they inhabit. Penelope comes across as fierce, resilient and overflowing with love. Circe (a brilliant Samantha Morton) seems less evil than a terrifying dispenser of justice. Calypso (Charlize Theron) imprisons Odysseus, yes, but her captivity is flavoured with tenderness and care. Clytemnestra avenges the murder of her child. Even a nurse receives a tiny, beautiful moment of grace when she recognises Odysseus. Her joy in this passing visual moment lasts seconds, but they contain the weight of years. I loved how Nolan uses imagery to create intrigue. That recurring shot of Odysseus standing by the steps, staring in horror at something we aren’t yet allowed to see… Nolan keeps returning to it, refusing to give away the answer before its time. He teases. He tests. Then he finally reveals. For some reason, this idea reminded me of how Inception keeps referring to Fischer’s safe, slowly building anticipation before finally, devastatingly, revealing what lies inside. Nolan understands that suspense isn’t just about withholding information. Sometimes, it’s about withholding a single image. Think also of that fleeting visual of Odysseus and the puppy. Barely a moment, perhaps not even a second or two. Yet, it broke me. Ludwig Göransson’s score operates much the same way. Its power lies in how simple it feels. Often atmospheric enough to disappear into the film. But when the story demands it, like in that battle against the suitors at the end, the percussion begins to tremble and thunder until the tension becomes almost unbearable. It’s only natural that, when discussing auteurs, we compare their films against one another. The Odyssey may unfold in a world of kings, monsters and gods. Its costumes, landscapes, and mythology may seem so far removed from Nolan’s usual playground. Yet you can recognise his familiar fingerprints everywhere. Like Interstellar and Inception, once again, here's a story of a man desperate to return to his family. Like in so many Nolan films, present-day dialogue frequently plays over images from another time, creating that uniquely cinematic sensation where memory and the present seem to occupy the same emotional space. And of course, no Nolan film feels complete without some meditation on time itself. Odysseus repeatedly asks how long he has been gone, having lost all sense of time. Meanwhile, Penelope isn't just waiting for him. She is slowly withering under the weight of waiting, time and faith warring inside her. Look, all of this is fine and dandy, but cinema, regardless of scale or ambition, ultimately has to move you. For a while in the first half, I wondered whether spectacle and symbolism were overpowering emotion. But then, that final act arrives. The dialogue, in this act and even across the whole film, is so piercing that individual lines broke my heart. I welled up just hearing some of them. I may be paraphrasing, but Odysseus says something close to: What you cannot have most… is what you once had and lost. There is something unbearably human about that thought, something the greatest films and songs are able to capture. Perhaps that’s why, while speaking about the power of song, Odysseus quietly says, “It makes me want to cry.” And boy, how that last act did that to me. It’s also during this passage that Nolan shows why he is a master of hero elevation. There’s a moment when Odysseus stands with his back turned to the suitors. Someone dismisses him as a “plate-licker” and mocks his identity. In lesser hands, this could have turned into a Gladiator-style “My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius” imitation. But Nolan waits. He wants Odysseus to act, not talk. And so, eventually, Odysseus strings the bow. Still, Nolan waits. And then comes that glorious twang, a sound that sends terror through the schemers while floating like music to Penelope’s desperate ears. And for these reasons, Nolan is a master mythmaker. If you ever doubted that stories of kings, gods, monsters, storms and impossible voyages belonged in his filmography, The Odyssey powerfully breaks those doubts. He is very much at home here. And so, for Nolan, much like Odysseus… This feels like homecoming.

#WATCH | Vikram-1 Test Flight-1 has reached orbit. India's first privately developed orbital rocket has completed its final burn and injected its payloads into a ~450 km orbit, making India the third country in the world with private orbital launch capability. (Source: Skyroot Aerospace)

ORBIT ACHIEVED. 🚀 Vikram-1 Test Flight-1 has reached orbit. India's first privately developed orbital rocket has completed its final burn and injected its payloads into a ~450 km orbit, making India the third country in the world with private orbital launch capability. History is made. 🇮🇳 #Vikram1 #JourneyToOrbit #SkyrootAerospace

Andhra Pradesh asks for small alignment changes in HYD-BLR High Speed Corridor. 🔸This will make HSR pass through Dharmavaram & Puttaparthi (to support devotees & upcoming AMCA Project and Aerospace Cluster Planned). #AndhraPradesh