The return

In The Return, director Uberto Pasolini undertakes the daring task of reimagining the second half of Homer's Odyssey, not as an epic populated by gods and monsters, but as a sober psychological drama rooted in the burning reality of post-war trauma and existential uprooting. By stripping the story of all the mythological embellishments, divine intervention, and fantastical trials that once defined Ulysses, Uberto Pasolini lays bare the very essence of the warrior's journey: not the battles fought on foreign seas, but those fought within oneself. This film is less about the journey home than about what happens when you finally arrive at your destination, when you return not as the triumphant hero of legend, but as a stranger, broken and barely whole. It's a bold break, made entirely convincing by Ralph Fiennes, whose imposing and intense performance captures the violent contradiction of a man revered in myth but ravaged by his memories.

Ralph Fiennes gives himself entirely to the role, both physically and emotionally, with a level of commitment that recalls the methodical gravity of his performance in Coriolanus. From the moment he staggers naked onto the shore of Ithaca, scarred, muscular, his body marked by the trials of war, the film makes it clear that this Ulysses is no longer a figure of Homeric greatness. He looks more like a weathered veteran returning from Vietnam or Iraq, haunted by bloodshed, weighed down by survivor's guilt, and unsure how to occupy a home he no longer recognizes. The performance is astonishing in its restraint: Fiennes speaks little, but his eyes do all the work, carrying the weight of twenty years of violence and loss. His silence is not empty, but filled with ghosts, each glance bearing witness to the men who did not return. Pasolini plays on this tension, depriving us of the comfort of explanations or flashbacks. Instead, he offers us close-ups lit by the glow of fire and shadows, forcing us to look at the silent grief of a man whose identity is more myth than memory.

Opposite him, Juliette Binoche imbues Queen Penelope with a quiet strength that is both regal and heartbreaking. It's the kind of internalized performance that could be mistaken for detachment, but is in fact a masterclass in restraint. Her Penelope is not a weeping widow, but a vigilant survivor, navigating a daily minefield of toxic masculinity as a palace full of predatory suitors encroaches on her dignity. As she drifts like a ghost through dimly lit rooms, she resists relentlessly, undoing her shroud each night to delay the moment when she must relinquish her sovereignty. Juliette Binoche embodies a woman who has turned waiting into war, her silent defiance no less courageous than any naval battle. There is a particularly captivating scene, rich in unspoken tension, where she talks to Ulysses in disguise, unaware—or perhaps intuitively aware—of who he really is. Her voice trembles with contained fury as she demands to know whether her husband, like the other warriors, has raped and murdered. It's a moment that deconstructs heroism with surgical precision, and Binoche renders it with unsettling grace.

What ultimately defines The Return is not just the performances of the actors, but the way Uberto Pasolini reframes the myth to make it a vehicle for emotional truth. Known for his work on Nowhere Special, Pasolini once again reveals his affinity for stories of quiet devastation. Here, from a screenplay co-written with John Collee and the late Edward Bond, he constructs a narrative that is as much about post-traumatic reckoning as it is about reclaiming one's name. Gone are the cyclops and sirens; in their place we have the brutal Antinoos, played with magnetic cunning by Marwan Kenzari, and the cowardly Pisander (Tom Rhys Harries), who embody a very human, petty, cruel, and banal evil. These suitors not only threaten Penelope's safety, they symbolize the rot that eats away at the absence of legitimate leadership. Even Telemachus, played unevenly by Charlie Plummer, is a victim of this rot: capricious and angry, his character oscillates between self-pity and impotent rage. It's a thankless role, and Plummer struggles under its weight, but even this unevenness underscores the generational rift that war leaves in its wake.

Visually, the film displays modest but evocative craftsmanship. Shot mainly in Corfu, with cinematographer Marius Panduru using natural light and fire to sculpt interiors into pictorial compositions, The Return evokes the raw austerity of Michael Cacoyannis's The Trojan Women or the political introspection of Shakespeare adaptations. The castles are not opulent, but brutalist; the landscapes, though sun-drenched, are eerily empty. The violence, when it finally erupts, is neither stylized nor triumphant: it is brutal, terrifying, and matter-of-fact. There is a strange satisfaction in seeing Ulysses draw his bow and accomplish the inevitable, but Uberto Pasolini is not interested in catharsis. When the arrows fly, we are not supposed to applaud. We are supposed to mourn the necessity of their flight.

The film's final emotional crescendo belongs to the reunion between Ulysses and Penelope, which, like the rest of the film, eschews overt melodrama in favor of intimate realism. Their reconciliation is not presented as a romantic climax, but as a weary acknowledgment: two souls bound by suffering, reaching out to each other across a void that no myth can truly fill. Their reunion, rendered through subtle glances and touches, has a more devastating weight than any supernatural spectacle. It reminds us that this is not just the story of a king returning home, but of what becomes of a home when it is touched by grief, and of how love, even if it is not always redemptive, can at least remain faithful.

The Return may struggle to find an audience in an age where mythology is synonymous with spectacle, but its strength lies in its refusal to mythologize pain. Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche deliver two of the most accomplished performances of their careers in a film that redefines heroism as endurance, not victory. This is not an exciting adaptation of The Odyssey, but something more courageous: a lament about what war takes away, what time erodes, and the myths we must rewrite to survive.

The Return
Directed by Uberto Pasolini
Produced by James Clayton, Uberto Pasolini, Konstantinos Kontovrakis
Written by John Collee, Edward Bond, Uberto Pasolini
Starring Ralph Fiennes, Juliette Binoche, Charlie Plummer, Marwan Kenzari, Ángela Molina, Tom Rhys Harries, Amir Wilson, Moe Bar-El Elatus, Jamie Andrew Cutler Polybus, Jaz Hutchins Hippotas, Matthew T. Reynolds, Amesh Edireweera Leocritus, Pavlos Iordanopoulos Stratius
Music by Rachel Portman
Cinematography: Marius Panduru
Edited by David Charap
Production companies: Picomedia, Rai Cinema, Heretic, Ithaca Pictures Inc., Kabo Productions, Marvelous Productions
Distributed by Maverick Distribution (France), Bleecker Street (United States)
Release date: December 6, 2024 (United States), June 18, 2025 (France)
Running time: 118 minutes

Seen on June 16, 2025 at Pathe Palace, Room 1

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