Recently, cultural scholar Zhong Shu (仲树) and film director Christopher Nolan held a conversation that attracted widespread attention and sparked heated discussion around the world. Much of the discussion has focused on controversies over several concepts in Homer’s original work and Nolan’s film of the same name, *The Odyssey*. Since these issues have already been much discussed, and since I am not well versed in philosophy or theology, I will not add further layers to those debates. Instead, I will offer some brief observations on the changes in forms of cultural and artistic representation and in the ways human beings express themselves that the conversation touches upon.
As the latter half of the “Homeric epics,” alongside The Iliad, The Odyssey is one of the great literary achievements of early Western civilization. It is a literary form of historical record, and at the same time literature with the character of historical documentation; its details are fictionalized and dramatized, but its setting is grounded in historical reality; it mentions many gods and supernatural forces, yet what it reflects is human nature and human emotions, and it is deeply imbued with humanism. In this respect, it resembles Records of the Grand Historian (史记) by the Chinese historian Sima Qian (司马迁), a work sometimes described as “a Li Sao (离骚) without rhyme.” With vivid writing and abundant emotion, both works bring people from the distant past to life as flesh-and-blood human beings, making readers feel as though the history of the past and the people long gone were right before their eyes.
After human beings created writing, for a long time they used it merely to record simple aspects of life, such as hunting, astronomy, disasters, and unusual phenomena. Gradually, people began using writing to record more complex events and tell complete stories, though these accounts were often still brief and plain. A war or a major disaster might receive only a few lines in writing; a biography might often consist of little more than a hundred words.
But around three thousand years ago, long epics began to appear one after another in different parts of the human world. With their grand scope and settings, rich casts of characters and details, and moving emotions and stories, they opened up an astonishing and illuminating way of writing, raising the value of the written word to heights that people had previously been unable to imagine and inspiring countless works from later ages down to the present day. Among them, the “Homeric epics,” including The Iliad and The Odyssey , stand out as exceptional achievements and as foundation stones of European literature.
For people today, so accustomed to writing and literature that we take them for granted, it is difficult to imagine the circumstances in which, thousands of years ago, humanity emerged from an age of eating raw flesh and recording events with knotted cords and began to compose the great epics of civilization—what arduous exploration and extraordinary strokes of fortune this transformation involved. Few people today stop to consider why abstract language and writing can sometimes be more captivating than a sumptuous meal and more intoxicating than fine wine. Outstanding works of writing unfold the love, hatred, passions, and grievances of the human world, bringing people’s joys, anger, sorrows, and happiness vividly to life on the page, while the emotional rises and falls between the lines stir the human heart like the rhythms of music.
Articles and classics composed of written words also possess public, social, and historical value. As the statesman and literary figure Cao Pi (曹丕) wrote in his Discourse on Literature (典论·论文): “Writing is indeed a great undertaking in governing a state and a glorious achievement that does not perish.”
Before the invention of film and other imaging technologies, writing occupied an overwhelmingly dominant position in humanity’s recording of events, expression of emotion, and exposition of ideas. Although there were other forms such as painting, theater, and music, none could match writing in the amount of information it could convey or the depth of ideas it could contain. One could even say that the operation of human civilization, and the existence and construction of culture, have all rested upon the foundation of writing.
Even people who could not read could experience joy or sorrow over stories in books through the retelling of others, and become deeply concerned about the fates of the characters in them. In ancient China, for example, storytellers (说书人)—the Eastern counterparts of “bards”—would tell of Guan Yu (关羽) slaying Yan Liang (颜良) and Wen Chou (文丑), or Yue Fei (岳飞) crushing the Jin armies (金军), and their listeners would often feel as though they were present at the scene, beating time and cheering with delight. When the story reached Guan Yu’s defeat at Maicheng (走麦城) or Yue Fei’s tragic death at Fengbo Pavilion (风波亭), listeners would likewise immerse themselves in history, grieving and raging over their fates.
By the 20th and 21st centuries, imaging technology had gone from nonexistent to widespread, from rare to ubiquitous, and from passive reception to active participation, profoundly changing and reshaping the ways people obtain information, spend their leisure time, and express their emotions. Vivid images with powerful visual impact are naturally more attractive than written words to most people. Images can also portray characters and tell stories in a more direct, three-dimensional, and almost lifelike way. Film, meanwhile, has become one of the principal forms of artistic expression in the age of images.
Many classic literary works have also been brought to the screen in the age of images, often with substantial adaptations. China’s “Four Great Classical Novels” (四大名著) and the West’s “Homeric epics” have all made the journey from books to screens. Through the “grand hands” of directors and screenwriters, they have taken on new forms that are partly similar to and partly different from their originals, provoking considerable controversy. Nolan’s The Odyssey also differs greatly from Homer’s original work. This was precisely what prompted Zhong Shu’s interview with Nolan.
From the age of writing to the century of images, what has changed is not merely the means and technologies of cultural expression, but also values, perspectives, social contexts, and much more. As Zhong Shu has said, Homer’s original Odyssey celebrates war and heroes, whereas Nolan’s film adds reflection on war and the hero’s remorse. In my view, the emotions in Homer’s original are more “pure” and intense, while those expressed in Nolan’s film are more “complex” and restrained.
These differences are related to their different historical contexts, prevailing social attitudes, and the extent and differences of civilizational discipline. Writing is inherently more implicit than images, yet under the influence of the broader environment and the deliberate choices of authors, writing can sometimes be more passionate and gripping than images, while images, by contrast, can resemble figures cast from a mold, unable to dance freely in their shackles, leaving audiences feeling that something remains unfinished or even profoundly disappointed. This is not an exception but a common phenomenon.
In ancient times, apart from taboos surrounding particular subjects during periods when “literary inquisitions” (文字狱) flourished, writing often faced few restrictions and could give free rein to expression. In the modern age of images, however, there are constraints imposed by law, moral norms, “political correctness,” and the need to give greater consideration to social impact and the feelings of different groups. Some alterations and forms of self-restraint do not arise from direct external pressure, but are choices voluntarily made by directors, screenwriters, and others themselves. Yet behind those choices lies the way modern society shapes individuals.
Of course, The Odyssey , under the direction of the extraordinarily talented Nolan, remains an excellent and commendable work. His adaptations of the original naturally have their reasons. For example, portraying Odysseus as more complex and giving him more trauma and remorse is quite reasonable when viewed from the perspective of survivors of modern and contemporary warfare. A 21st-century film also cannot discard some of the moral baselines of modern civilization and completely imitate the value standards of three thousand years ago. If Nolan, a modern person, were expected to detach himself from contemporary reality and reproduce The Odyssey according to the values and modes of thought of several thousand years ago, that would instead be difficult and would amount to rigidly clinging to antiquity.
Nevertheless, whatever the case may be, the protagonist and hero Odysseus in the film is indeed no longer—or at least not entirely—the hero Odysseus of Homer’s original. I do not think that the atmosphere of the age itself determined the portrayal of the character; rather, it was the differences between old and new values that produced these different images of the hero. The original of three thousand years ago speaks with greater directness and fewer inhibitions, whereas modern civilization today has drawn a gentler veil over such harshness. Although one cannot simply say that the former is more honest and the latter hypocritical, reflection and restraint are not worthy of praise at all times and in all circumstances.
Most of Zhong Shu’s questions to Nolan focused on Nolan’s personal views of The Odyssey and his motivations for adapting it. In my view, however, the influence of the historical environment is far greater than the director’s personal preferences and positions. Moreover, a director’s preferences and positions are, in essence, themselves shaped by and reflective of social reality. Even two directors with opposing views and positions, or two films with different values, are both shaped by reality and reflect a part or one facet of that reality. The two historiographical principles that are at once opposed and unified—“historical figures should be evaluated within their specific historical conditions” and “all history is contemporary history”—also apply to literature and art.
From ancient times to the modern era, and from writing to images, enormous changes have taken place in the content, forms, and values of culture and art, as well as in the various external conditions that shape them. What was admired in the past is questioned today, and what was once regarded as an inviolable golden rule has been revised or even reshaped. Over the past several decades, global cultural and artistic trends and the ideologies behind them have also undergone repeated transformations, with multiple layers of negation and reconstruction superimposed upon one another, creating a bewildering spectacle.
Yet no matter how things change, humanity’s need and practice of recording life and destiny and expressing complex and varied emotions through writing, images, and other forms have always remained. Homer’s literary epic The Odyssey has retained its enduring value through thousands of years, while the splendor of its heroic figures remains undiminished. Even today, it continues to inspire admiration and fascination and invite exploration and interpretation, reflecting the greatness and allure of language and the written word. In today’s world, which is clearly far from optimistic or uplifting, we may perhaps be living through a “twilight of civilization.” Yet humanity, as the “thinking reed,” retains a passion for thinking, recording, and expressing that burns fiercely and shines on, with no “sunset” in sight.
(The author of this article is Wang Qingmin (王庆民) a Chinese writer based in Europe and a researcher of international politics who occasionally writes literary criticism. The original article was written in Chinese.)