Sabbatikos

Somewhere at the bottom of the Aegean, between Skyros and Alonnisos, there is a Kindle with The Odyssey on it.

I know this because I put it there, involuntarily, thirteen years ago, on the sailing trip through the Sporades that started this blog: Sabbatikos. Those islands are the very waters Homer wove into his epic, and I had been rereading the poem on deck when Poseidon decided he wanted the story back. Sabbatikos was born on that trip, which is why this Saturday night in mid-July felt less like a movie premiere and more like a homecoming.

When Christopher Nolan announced The Odyssey, and that it would be the first film ever shot entirely with IMAX film cameras, and that only a handful of theaters would be capable of projecting it in true 70mm IMAX, we knew we had to see it opening weekend, the way the director intended. Apparently so did everyone else. When tickets went on sale a full year in advance, in July of 2025, every seat at every 70mm IMAX showing sold out within minutes. A year out! We grabbed four seats at AMC Citywalk at Universal Studios Hollywood, one of only 40 or so IMAX theaters in the world where you can experience it. And then, like Penelope at her loom, we settled in to wait for Odysseus.

For the uninitiated (that included us), 70mm IMAX is the paramount of film formats. The film runs horizontally through the projector, fifteen perforations per frame, projected in a towering 1.43:1 aspect ratio that fills your entire field of vision, with Zeus-like thundering sound. It is enormous, luminous, and as awe-inspiring as the gods must have been to the ancient Greeks. Seeing a film in this format is an experience like no other. But to see the first film shot entirely in this format on opening weekend? It was as if we were on Mt. Olympus itself.

Weeks before the movie, the gods gave us a preview. Over the 4th of July we were in LA, and on the Studio Tour at Universal we rolled past Falls Lake, the floodable bluescreen lot where some of the ship scenes were filmed. There she was: Odysseus’ ship, oars out, red sails furled, parked in front of a wall of blue like she was waiting for the tide to set her afloat. After our day at the park, outside the AMC at Citywalk, one of the actual screen used Trojan Horse props reared up over the plaza, announcing the upcoming movie event only a few short weeks away.

We returned to LA a few weeks later simply for a Saturday night screening. The omens kept coming. That same weekend, Clara was producing the first episode of a new podcast, Popcorn Pals, with comedian Daniel Van Kirk, and the debut episode, dropping July 22nd, is all about Nolan’s Odyssey. On Friday night, we prepped ourselves by watching another Greek period movie on our couch to psyche ourselves up for the main event on Saturday. Should we watch Clash of the Titans? Jason and the Argonauts? Troy? The Simpsons episode “Homer’s Odyssey”? We settled on Percy Jackson’s The Lightning Thief, which was silly but fun, and it surprisingly refreshed our memory about a few key scenes from the Odyssey, such as the lotus eaters.

By Saturday the 18th, our feeds were a churning sea of Odyssey marketing, influencer takes, and reports of theaters adding 3am and 7am showtimes to meet demand. The social media sirens were singing, and we did the only sensible thing: rather than lash ourselves to a mast, we splashed ourselves into the pool, where phones couldn’t follow and spoilers can’t swim. Like a tidal wave, the anticipation swelled all day.

With Universal’s new security measures we headed to Citywalk early, breezed through the line, and found ourselves with extra time. We put it to good use at Antojitos, where chips, salsa, guacamole, and several margaritas provided a pre-voyage feast. Full and fortified, we walked over to pay our respects to the Trojan Horse up close. It was massive, beautifully crafted, and exactly the kind of gift from the gods that would be hard to resist.

Inside the theater, thirty minutes early, we wandered the displays from the movie, including costumes and original props. We made a pilgrimage to the $70 collectable Trojan Horse popcorn bucket. It was huge, standing nearly two feet tall. It was glorious. Alas, it was also $70 for a popcorn bucket, and we are not made of drachmas. We passed.

Upstairs at the Director’s Bar we found more treasures, including one of the actual 70mm IMAX cameras used on the film. We had a drink, though not the special Hero’s Journey cocktail on the menu. Some journeys aren’t worth the voyage.

Then, the final ritual of any three hour epic: one last trip to the bathroom. The socials had helpfully mapped a bio break window about eighty minutes in, right after the fight with the giants. But we took no chances. Unlike Odysseus, we had no interest in being detoured when nature called.

We walked into the theater. The screen at Citywalk is 79 feet wide and 58 feet tall. Six stories of silver screen! It envelops you, swallowing your peripheral vision whole, like a Cyclops eating soldier’s from its flock.

The lights dimmed. Nicole Kidman, Hollywood’s muse, appeared like a glowing giant, and the packed house cheered and recited her famous AMC preamble in unison with her, “We come to this place for magic…That indescribable feeling we get with the lights begin to dim and we go somewhere we’ve never been before…somehow reborn together. Dazzling images on a huge silver screen. Sound that I can feel…Our heroes feel like the best parts of us and stories feel perfect and powerful…Because here, they are.” And with that, our Odyssey began.

I will not spoil a frame of it. I will say this: what seemed like a short three hours later, the theater erupted in applause as the credits rolled and the lights came up. It is a staggering feat of filmmaking, inspiring, thought provoking, philosophical, epically vast and intimate all at once. It will be shocking if it is not showered with Oscar nominations like the torrents of an Aegean storm that fell upon Odysseus at sea. And those Trojan Horse scenes? Let’s just say I had to have a horse of my own. Which is why, walking out, we headed to the concession stand. “I’ll take one of the horse buckets, please.” “We’re all sold out,” the attendant told me. Then, a pause. “Except for this display model, if you want that.” I did.

Back at the apartment, we introduced the newest member of the family (we named him “Troy”) to Puff (Clara’s cat), who took one look at the wooden horse bucket being carried across the threshold and, with big eyes, wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. She showed better judgment than the inhabitants of ancient Troy.

And so our odyssey ended the way the best ones do: as a story come full circle, The Odyssey finally finding its way back to us. Somewhere between Skyros and Alonnisos, my Kindle is still at the bottom of the Aegean Sea, holding my place. Poseidon can keep it. I have Nolan’s version freshly in my mind.