Matt Damon's Odysseus wading ashore after ten years at sea does something to a viewer. So does watching a city burn in real time, or Anne Hathaway's Penelope holding still on a clifftop that seems to have been waiting three thousand years for someone to fill it with longing. Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey has become one of those films. But it arrives with a complication most set-jetting stories don't have: two geographies layered over each other.
