broccoli

Should I see The Odyssey? I loved the book as a kid, so will this ruin it or bring back great memories?

Just saw The Odyssey. Despite what you may have heard, literally all of the criticisms by conservatives were entirely correct. The movie is just as woke as you fear, if not more so. The DEI casting is atrocious. Completely takes you out of the story right from the beginning. But even worse than that is Nolan’s decision to turn Odysseus into an anachronistic whiney, solemn shell of a man plagued by “trauma” and guilt. It’s impossible to overlook these flaws because the film itself is not terribly entertaining or well constructed. For the most part it is disjointed, dull, self-serious, disenchanted, somehow feeling both verbose and overly rushed at the same time. The dialogue is some of the worst I’ve ever heard in a “critically acclaimed” film. “On the nose” and “clunky” are descriptions that can’t even begin to describe this script. At no point in the story does Nolan ever transport the audience to the ancient world. You never feel like you’re 3,000 years in the past. You feel like you’re watching modern Americans put on a pageant, because you are. Nobody would be calling this thing a masterpiece if it was made by a director not named Christopher Nolan.

I’ve just finished reading Gad Saad’s book Suicidal Empathy. It ranks, along with Chris Rufo’s America’s Cultural Revolution: How the Radical Left Conquered Everything and Helen Pluckrose and James Lindsay’s Cynical Theories, as the best take-down of the lunacy at the heart of the wokeist philosophy. For Saad, empathy—in itself a perfectly decent trait—has become so grossly exaggerated that it threatens truth, reality, and justice. Cases in point abound: so they won’t feel bad about themselves, we’ll allow biological men to compete in women’s sports and crush the dreams of thousands of young women; so as not to undermine the self-esteem of minorities, we will permit unqualified candidates to have positions in universities and the corporate world; so that everyone might feel included, we will characterize the meritocracy as “white privilege,” etc. As I was making my way through Saad’s book, I kept remarking the sharp distinction between empathy and love. To empathize is to enter profoundly into the experience of another and to endeavor not to hurt that person’s feelings. But to love is, as Thomas Aquinas taught, “to will the good of the other.” As I said, in itself and all things being equal, empathy is a good thing. But it is not the same as love, which, depending on circumstances, can very much involve hurting someone’s feelings. When a professor gives a student a “C” as an honest reflection of his work, he might well be insulting him, but he’s also telling him the truth and perhaps even urging him to try harder. When, in the Confessional, a priest tells a murderer to turn himself in to the police, he’s undoubtedly making that person’s life more uncomfortable, but he’s also willing the man’s good. Any decent parent knows that showing real love for her children means engendering all kinds of bad feelings in them. In light of this distinction, we can understand why Jesus didn’t say, “have empathy for one another,” but rather “love one another.” And why St. John the Evangelist didn’t say, “God is empathy,” but rather “God is love.” It occurred to me as I was reading Saad’s book that one reason Wokeism has seized the consciousness of so many in the West is that Christianity has faded as a cultural force and Christians themselves have forgotten what stands at the heart of their faith.