Because even the most enthusiastic write-ups – and definitely those assessments by classicists – seem to agree that women (not, historically, Nolan's strong point) get a bit of a rough deal in the movie.
A few examples.
Zendaya's Athena – one of the really top gods – has almost nothing to do here but vaguely shadow Odysseus, Scottish Widows-style in a headscarf, softly nodding, sometimes doing a sad head-shake, like the teacher who tells you they're not angry, just disappointed.
Charlize Theron's Calypso likewise only really functions as a sounding board, ambling after him in the sand with drinks and lotus flowers.
The flowers, it's suggested, are secretly to stop Odysseus remembering who he is.
The movie makes no mention of her keeping him as a sex slave for eight years. Homer's Calypso is a great part.
Nolan's is some woman who runs a beach bar and is thinking of pivoting to psychotherapy.
These changes consistently make the women either more boring or more bonkers.
The scenes with Samantha Morton's Circe start promisingly, as she cooks a feast for Odysseus's men in her Landmark Trust-ish cottage (good spoons, no telly) before vengefully turning them all into pigs.
Odysseus comes by, twigs what she's done and persuades her to reverse the spell not by – as in the poem – a year of sex and complex rhetoric, but just a quick word, conceding that men can be awful, but these ones aren't too bad, as it goes.
Such alterations aren't about the women, of course.
They're about Matt Damon's hero, changed from tricksy shagger to gentle feminist – as well as super-cool warrior dude (an added scene involving him walloping some goons disguised as priests is really outrageous).
Happily, I haven't reviewed The Odyssey, for I can only imagine the state of Zacharek's social media mentions.
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But as it storms the box office this weekend, I wonder how many in the audience might feel a bit alienated – and a bit nervous of saying so.
