In times of yore, when epic journeys were commonplace, (the more extreme the better), Homer wrote his seminal work the Odyssey about the greatest sea-faring adventure of them all. At this point in time, while maps were a spaghetti junction of roads to nowhere and countries with questionable borders, the sea was a beckoning mistress - one of mystery and wonder. Beasts and monsters were spoken of in hushed whispers. Sailors murmured of mesmerising sirens who sang with such evocative beauty, ships were steered towards craggy rocks and dashed to pieces in a bleakly inevitable rotunda of dominoes flailing and spinning to the murky depths below. No one knew what lay beyond the horizon – (possibly another horizon which would cause a degree of frustration among explorers), or for some, the earth was simply flat, and ships would tumble off its cliffs into cavernous bowels never to be seen again.
Homer’s Illiad, referred to the early stages of the Trojan war – Odysseus had set sail from his island kingdom of Ithaca with a flotilla of warships to assist with events unfolding at the city of Troy, and for Homer, this first poem set the scene for his later oeuvre, the Odyssey. Perhaps to initially keep his readers on the edge of their seats, Homer included far more magical fantastic beasts in the Iliad than he did in his subsequent work. It was the ancient Greek version of a foot in the door. The Iliad covered battles won and lost, as Odysseus ultimately triumphed in the end. If Homer continued to write poetry in the same style, it amounted to a tautological flogging of a dead horse; in his wisdom, Homer selected to omit fabled mythical creatures and replace the narrative with more tales of Odysseus’s derring-do. When the dust had settled, and a different horse, the Trojan one, had done its diabolical work, there were no more foes to be vanquished, prompting Odysseus to set forth across the seas to amass greater tracts of land and conquer more tribes. Or possibly consider returning to Ithaca? The only dilemma was Odysseus had nothing to show for years of arduous graft, and he could not face the icy reception he was sure to receive from his wife along with his subjects upon setting foot on Ithacan soil once more. Not to mention all those sunken ships without a single survivor apart from Odysseus. In modern parlance, the world would have screamed conspiracy theory.
Opening scenes of The Return, shows a human form (Ralph Fiennes) washed ashore on a deserted beach. The sun beats down on the man’s naked body. At first glance, it appears that he is deceased, but slowly he begins to come to his senses. Eumaeus (Claudio Santamaria) sees the injured man, takes pity on him and brings him to his hut nearby, nursing him back to health. Odysseus’s visible injuries heal, but internal turmoil remains. He is mortally afraid of what the reception will be if he were to reassert dominance over his lands. In addition to the thorny subject of how he made it back more or less in one piece while all his vessels and brave men seem to be no more. In Homer’s writings, the doughty warriors who supported Odysseus and quite possibly saved his life on multiple occasions, are not worth even a footnote in history. Odysseus soon becomes aware that his kingdom is all but ruined; anarchy and chaos have replaced the benign leadership of twenty years earlier, a band of thugs wreak havoc across the island, plundering and pillaging as they go.
Queen Penelope (Juliette Binoche), Odysseus’s wife, has waited twenty years while her husband hunted and gathered – not knowing when or if he might return. When Odysseus eventually turns up at his island kingdom, Penelope is understandably a little miffed at his absence – this is not a moment when Odysseus’ delay indicated the Sunday roast has been burned to a crisp; it is a full-on, ancient missing-person-era of posters being nailed onto trees left, right, and centre, seeking the Pimpernel-esque traveller. While he has been gone, Penelope has ruled with fervour and the greatest of dignity – but in those times, despite the moniker not existing, a de facto Salic Law was in force – in that men could rule and only their sons could inherit. If the eldest son was too weak to assume leadership, it was just too bad. Choosing the second over the first, would bring mayhem and threaten the peaceful stability of any domain – the kingdom of Odysseus was no different. The first and only son in this case is Telemachus (Charlie Plummer), he looks to be about twenty (a bit of a relief given that Odysseus could reasonably start to ask questions that would require counting all ten fingers and toes), who rages against Odysseus when he finally makes himself known. Telemachus' approach does not make sense – he is isolated without any serious muscle backing him up and Penelope is coming under pressure to marry again. It could be reasonable to assume that Telemachus' life would come under threat as he might prove to be a rallying point to any supporters of Odysseus. But still Telemachus is filled with early-twenties angst and not in the mood to be appeased. The vagaries of callow youth have prevailed in this regard.
Antinous (Marwan Kenzari), approaches Telemachus and requests (demands) that Telemachus insist his mother remarry and select Antinous as her new husband. Telemachus refuses but quietly asks his mother to make her choice and do so speedily.
The film might have benefited from scenes of open spaces – it needed to breathe a little more. Most of the action was set in close quarters which made it feel confining. But the story is set on a small island, so it is fair to have most of, if not all scenes packed to the brim with people, foliage, interior settings and so on. Despite this the cinematography is stunning. Close-ups of Ralph Fiennes face are utilised to great effect – no dialogue is necessary to portray what he is feeling. Fiennes' visage is an apogee of human trauma yet he is faultless in following his destiny and making it become a reality.
The Return is a fine film and a great yarn – Marwan Kenzari is perfectly cast as the unctuous and devious potential suitor with one thing on his mind – that of gaining control of Ithaca. Juliette Binoche, as in every other film she graces, is wonderful to watch. She says little but co-exists in peaceful on-screen harmony with the behemoth of acting greatness that is Ralph Fiennes. Fiennes is the glue that holds the entire narrative together, yet he is generous with his presence and never overshadows other characters. It shows true mastery of his craft that he can shine so brightly yet allow his fellow actors reflect in equal glory.
