Immortals Review: The Good (Spoilers)

I have now, finally, after all of that anticipation, seen Immortals (not "The Immortals", as previously written). It was quite a bizarre experience. I've taken a few days to mull over the film, and have decided that the best way to structure my review/response/reaction would be to split it in two, the first post listing all of the positive and/or commendable aspects of the film, and the second unleashing some of the detracting elements (I think you can see where I'm going with this).

SPOILER ALERT

• Some of the mythology is correct... sort of. Theseus is famous for fighting a minotaur in a labyrinth, even if the circumstances are about as radically different from the ones presented in the film. In fairness, however, the final scene of the film suggests that the myth passed down to us (as represented by the friezes and large statue of Theseus fighting the minotaur) is in fact a distortion or exaggeration of the "true events", which, if I'm interpreting that correctly, does imply some degree of narrative consistency. That is to say, the whole point of the film is to show the events that spawned the legends familiar to us today. Could be.
The treatment of the notion of immortality in Greek eyes was actually fairly convincing, with Hyperion (?!) projecting a model of paternal continuity, as opposed to Theseus' conception (no pun intended) of "deeds" rather than "flesh" being immortal. I was reminded not only of the general themes of kleos and so in Greek mythology, but also Book 16 of the Odyssey, where Telemachus emphasises the fragility of his family line:

ὧδε γὰρ ἡμετέρην γενεὴν μούνωσε Κρονίων·
μοῦνον Λαέρτην Ἀρκείσιος υἱὸν ἔτικτε,
μοῦνον δ' αὖτ' Ὀδυσῆα πατὴρ τέκεν· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς
μοῦνον ἔμ' ἐν μεγάροισι τεκὼν λίπεν, οὐδ' ἀπόνητο.

For in this way the son of Cronos has made our bloodline solitary:
Arcesius sired Laertes as an only son,
Then he in turn was the father who sired Odysseus only; but Odysseus
Sired and left me in his halls alone, and had no enjoyment from me.

(That's my attempt, there are better translations here, here and arguably here)

So, the tension in the film is essentially the same as the central concern of the Homeric epics, where Achilles in the Iliad could hardly be more indifferent towards either his own life or that of his son - here, Theseus dies in pursuit of glory without even knowing that he has a son.

• The whole idea of the gods being mortal - indeed, dying, as they do in the bust-up with the released Titans - is not such a crazy one. In fact, I myself once wrote an essay (and perhaps at some point will write a post) on the mortality of the immortals, so these chaps must be on to something.
• Despite the general fuzziness regarding the mythology (which could be intentional and excusable, as discussed earlier), some of the details were traditional. For example, that Theseus' girl-acquaintance is called Phaedra, and that together they have a son named Acamas (Immortals 2?). The Titans in Mt. Tartarus. And so on (yes, alright, I can't remember any others, but I had a (slightly longer) list when I came out of the film).
• Some of the fight scenes were quite well choreographed (even if for the most part they tended towards a sort of "300-lite", and the 3D was rubbish... no, that comes later).
• The opening scene was in... Ancient Greek. Ish. Okay, it wasn't exactly the right dialect, and it wasn't strictly speaking logical that the sybils should speak Ancient Greek to each other while everyone else spoke American English, and the subtitles didn't absolutely match what was being said (I look forward to the inevitable YouTube video with "correct" subtitles), but it was a nice effort, and a refreshing break from antisemitic caricatures hurling abuse in Aramaic at Jesus while Pontius Pilate mutters mournfully to himself in Latin. Which reminded me of the opening scene of A Serious Man.

Top Classical Films, in Anticipation of The Immortals: Part 1

In England, the long-awaited Classics-based thrill-fest The Immortals came out in cinemas on Friday. Tragically, I have not yet had a chance to watch the film, and probably won't until at least Sunday, but I have every reason to expect it will be as riveting and moving as the various trailers.

Others have been less optimistic, and in their glass-half-empty churlishness have compiled lists or parodies of previous unfortunate cinematic forays into Greek and Roman mythology. This one is fairly neutral. I, however, am made of jollier stuff, so here is my countdown of Classical films which were are actually genuinely good.

10. Troy



Good reasons to like: Though much maligned, this film has suffered a great deal of snobbery from critics and certain audiences. Let alone the fact that it's an enjoyable and entertaining movie, it does render Homer's characters (Brad Pitt's brooding Achilles, Eric Bana's tragic Hector and Orlando Bloom's cowardly, effeminate Paris particularly) and themes (immortality, kleos, war, loyalty and greed) quite faithfully, even if some of the action has been jazzed up (the Achilles/Hector showdown) or radically changed (I don't remember Agamemnon being stabbed in the Iliad by Briseis...).

Silly reason to like: The score by Yated was scrapped for being too "old-fashioned" and a new one was written last minute by James Horner. "Horner" looks quite a lot like "Homer". Coincidence?

P.S.: Also, here's a little bit of insider gossip for you: I've been told that after a screening of the film for academics, they were asked by the producers not to reveal the ending...

9. Spartacus



Good reasons to like: One can get pretty dewy-eyed about the "golden age" of Hollywood film-making, but this truly was an epic work, with fully fleshed out (if not quite three-dimensional) characters and a long-enough running time (184 minutes) for a properly developed (some might say over-developed) plot. It also has the courage to eschew Hollywood "happy ending" cliches: the most famous (and oft-parodied) scene from the film is undoubtedly the "I'm Spartacus!" clip embedded above, but the self-sacrifice shown in the duel between Antoninus and Spartacus, each trying to kill the other in order to spare them the ordeal of crucifixion, is somewhat more gritty, and a refreshing subversion of goodie vs. baddie. The execution is a bit mawkish, but the morality is at least a bit ambiguous. Equally, the shot of Spartacus hanging from the cross as his son goes free is profoundly bittersweet, a happy ending of sorts tinged with realism.

Silly reason to like: Tony Curtis, who plays Antoninus, also plays the cross-dressing Joe/Josephine in Some Like It Hot. Somehow he seems to wear more make-up in Spartacus.

8. Clash Of The Titans (Original 1981)



Good reasons to like: It's another top notch film, except doesn't take itself too seriously and prioritises fun over fidelity to mythology. Yes, it's a bit of a hodge-podge when it comes to the details, but the fundamental plot is mainly true to the original Perseus story. I've always found Calibos quite sympathetic, and found his speech rather moving. Maybe it's because I'm a deformed demi-god who has trouble letting go. Most important, however, and what elevates this film from being too silly is Ray Harryhausen's special effects, in the last film he would work on. Nostalgia overload.


Silly reason to like: Simply because it isn't the atrocious 2010 remake.


7. O Brother Where Art Thou



Good reasons to like: This is an allegorical offering from the Coen brothers, meshing the Odyssey and Americana to deliver a hugely effective result. Ulysses Everett McGill, as the trailer says, has to "get home to his wife and kids", facing Sirens and a Cyclops along the way. This is I suppose an extreme case of the trend exhibited by Troy - it gets the basic themes and characters right, so much so that you don't care about the small differences. They are especially forgiveable in this film, because, well, it's set in the 1930s America South. The subtle references, for example to Odysseus' epithets, make this a particular treat for the classically literate.

Silly reason to like: The name of the film is a reference to the 1941 film Sullivan's Travels, in which the title character proposes to make a film called 'O Brother Where Art Thou', where the name is deliberately and satirically pretentious.

6. A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum



Good reasons to like: Similar to O Brother Where Art Thou, this is a sort of meshing of Roman comedy and American wise-guy humour (epitomised by Phil Silvers, "The King of Chutzpah", who stars as the slave dealer Marcus Lycus, having previously turned down the role of Pseudolus). All of your favourite stock characters are here, with a brilliant (if annoyingly catchy) score by Sondheim adapted by Ken Thorne, and Buster Keaton's last ever performance. What's more, it's genuinely funny. At least, I think so. While it isn't as good as the original musical, it's still hugely entertaining and not to be missed.

Silly reason to like: It stars Zero Mostel, who also played Tevye the Milkman on Broadway in Fiddler on the Roof, the greatest musical of all time, and therefore everything he is in must by definition be amazing.

(to be continued...)

(Epos) Nekerdes: Part II

Just to follow up on and flesh out some of the ideas from yesterday's inaugural post.  First, this video which depicts some of the horror of losing treasure (κέρδεα) that you have hoarded:



Second, to develop a bit more fully the contrast between Iliadic notions of action and Odyssean notions of crafty speech.  This is obviously a huge topic, but I want to approach it briefly, in keeping with the theme of the video, through the prism of the sons of the two poems' respective heroes: Neoptolemus (son of Achilles) and Telemachus (son of Odysseus).  I'll just point out in passing (although I am a big believer in noms parlants, especially in Homer) the differences between the meanings of the two names: Neoptolemus meaning "New War", just what is not needed after the horror of the expedition to Troy; while Telemachus means "Far From Battle".  Neoptolemus is the one who kills Astyanax, Hector's infant son (at least, that is his most defenceless and innocent victim), whereas until Athene comes to rouse him, Telemachus does little but sit at home biting his nails over his absent father.

Both are, for one reason or another and to some extent, fatherless.  Neoptolemus' father is off hunting a glory that will never fade, in the knowledge that this will result in his death and, consequently, never seeing his son again.  Achilles' extreme nonchalance when it comes to fatherhood is demonstrated most starkly by his off-hand comment when speaking about his grief at Patroclus' death, in the Iliad at 19.327: "If, I suppose, godlike Neoptolemus is even still alive." (εἴ που ἔτι ζώει γε Νεοπτόλεμος θεοειδής).  This is ironically preceded by his referring to his son as "φίλος υἱός", "beloved/dear son" - the absurdity of this designation is driven home by a comparison to the truly loving attitude of Hector in Book 6 in the Iliad towards his son Astyanax (whom, let us not forget, Neoptolemus will kill).

The line in which Neoptolemus' name is used for the only time in the entire Iliad is particularly emphatic because of its particles: "που", "perhaps, I suppose", is a sort of verbal shrug, an explicit declamation of ignorance; "γε", "at least, at any rate", emphasises the word that precedes it, marks that word as the stressed point of the sentence.  It is a sorely overlooked particle, often misunderstood or brushed aside as being "merely for the metre".  (In fact, I might start a little sub-blog here devoted to this overlooked and under-appreciated particle - Ge And Proud?)  This is a good example of the word's usage to accentuate the tone of the line - in this case indifference, complacency, disinterest - by underlining that the father does not even know if his son is alive or dead; it simultaneously links the sentiment to the ephemeralness (it's in the OED...) of Achilles' own life.

Telemachus receives a lot more attention, in both poems; in the Iliad, Odysseus even refers to himself, in a reversal of the traditional patronymic mode, as the "father of Telemachus" (Τηλεμάχοιο πατὴρ 2.260).  Whereas fatherless Neoptolemus tries to emulate his father with extreme violence and blood-thirst, misunderstanding the point of fighting due to his lack of fatherly guidance (see Iliad Book 9 for evidence of Achilles' sensitivity and thoughtfulness), Telemachus fails to grasp the notion of Odyssean cunning and restraint, going to the opposite extreme to Neoptolemus and indulging in inertia and passivity - however, due to the return of his father, by the end of the Odyssey he has learned about subtlety and caution, proving himself a man by refraining from stringing his father's bow, even though he is able to do so, and lying to cover it up (Od. 21.125-135).

(Epos) Nekerdes

Hello, welcome to the blog. I intend for this post to be a little microcosm of what I hope the blog will do, and the tone it will be in, although obviously at this stage it's all a bit primordial (and I've never done this before). So this will basically be an explanation of the name, and a sort of mission statement, and an exemplum.

The first thing I hope to do with this blog is fill in any gaps I find in the blogosphere. That is to say, when I google something and come up empty-handed, I'd like, as far as I am able, to provide the information that I couldn't find for the (highly theoretical) next person. At the time of writing this, according to Google, there is not one blog that has ever used the word "nekerdes" in any post - I did find one reference to "l'Hôpital Neker des Enfants Malades à Paris", but it's from quite an offensive article in quite an offensive French Catholic gazette, so I won't link to it here (also I don't know how to) (and I hate Catholics) (just kidding).

So now there is a blog that has not only used the phrase, but has enshrined it as a letterhead and founding principle.  This firstly means that I do not intend to "monetise" this blog or ever have ads on it.  (I can delete this later, right?)  But more broadly, I don't really intend to get any profit out of it, other than the opportunity to verbalise some of my own ideas and disseminate some others that I come across, hopefully being of some help to others.

The phrase epos nekerdes (ἔπος νηκερδὲς) is found in Homer's Odyssey at line 14.509, within a litotes (double negative - i.e. Odysseus' word isn't without profit): Eumaeus, the loyal swineherd, has just heard his disguised master Odysseus - whom he hasn't recognised - spin a completely truthless yarn about being a high-born Cretan, and then a short anecdote (still in character as a vagrant) about once being cold and being given a warm cloak.

This is one of my favourite books, a transitional midpoint in a poem so fixated (no pun intended?) on markers of transition.  It harks back to the much longer tale (whose truth is disputed by scholars, see Richardson (JSTOR) for a particularly sceptical and insightful analysis) Odysseus told to the Phaeacians, and harks forward to the tale he will tell to Penelope.  Aside from the broader motif of words and trickery that permeate the poem, the also ties into the theme of acquisitiveness and materialism: just before arriving at Eumaeus' hut (on the border of his own property), Odysseus stashed all of his Phaeacian gifts (13.362-371), which are almost as essential a component of his nostos as his own return is.

There is one other example of the word "nekerdes" in Homer (only one, which is arguably significant in itself, in a poem with so much repetition and reliance on epithets), and it comes in the Iliad, at line 17.469, just after the pathetic death of Patroclus.  It is the "nekerdea boulen" (νηκερδέα βουλὴν - unprofitable plan) of Automedon, the bereft charioteer of Achilles, in a scene so sad that even Zeus is moved (17.441-455) - the focus is on loneliness and isolation in the midst of war, the futility of mortal combat (despite Achilles' choice of a short life instead of great fame) and the irony of the wrangling that began the Iliad over prizes and loot, now that Achilles has lost something that is truly valuable to him.

Each use of the word is saturated with the ethos of its own poem, and each poem has a different understanding of what the word means - note that in the Odyssey it describes a "word" and in the Iliad it describes a "plan".  It's not terribly profound, but I quite like the dichotomy.

Another thing this blog will try to do is draw connections between the ancient world and more modern stuff.  When it's done well, as in the Richardson article above with the Hitchcock reference, I think it's great fun as well as often being enlightening and thought-provoking.  So, I'll be both attempting it and quoting more eminent people achieving it.

In that spirit, I leave you with this clip from the great Danny DeVito in Other People's Money - and make sure to look out for the Greek subtitles.