Best Of: ‘Odyssey’ translator Emily Wilson / Actor Jon Bernthal
from Fresh Air ·
47m 51s
Emily Wilson, a professor of classical studies and the first woman to translate Homer’s *Odyssey* into English, offers a critical yet constructive perspective on Christopher Nolan’s film adaptation. While she acknowledges the film’s box office success and cultural impact, she finds its script lacking in emotional depth, character motivation, and the active presence of gods, which are central to the original epic. Wilson emphasizes that the ancient poem is a performance-driven, multi-vocal work designed to evoke emotion through rhythm, sound, and layered character voices—elements missing in the film. She argues that Odysseus, as a character, must have tangible desires, such as hunger or longing for intimacy, to feel real and relatable. Her own translation, praised for its poetic meter and fidelity to the Greek original, underscores the difficulty and artistry of rendering ancient poetry into modern language. The interview also features actor John Bernthal, who shares his journey from a troubled youth in Washington, D.C., to a committed actor rooted in authenticity and emotional truth. Bernthal’s work in both *The Odyssey* and the *Punisher* reflects a dedication to portraying complex, traumatized humans, emphasizing pain, vulnerability, and human connection as central to compelling performance. Together, the discussion highlights the tension between cinematic spectacle and authentic storytelling, and the enduring value of the original text in shaping modern interpretations.
From W.H.Y.Y. in Philadelphia, this is Fresh Air Weekend. I'm Dave Davies.
Christopher Nolan's new film, The Odyssey, is a box office hit.
But classic scholar Emily Wilson, who translated Homer's poem from the original text,
says the film script is abysmally written, lacking in emotional depth and character development.
And she adds there are no sex scenes and all the food looks horrible.
We need to have a protagonist with detailed, believable motivation.
So the fact that these desires seem to be stripped from Odysseus,
he doesn't seem to want food, doesn't seem to want sex, what does he want?
Today, Wilson talks about the joy and challenge of bringing the rich ancient text to life in translation.
Also, we hear from actor John Bernthal, who plays Menelaus, king of Sparta in Nolan's The Odyssey,
and the Punisher in the new Spider-Man movie.
That's all coming up on Fresh Air.
This is Fresh Air Weekend. I'm Dave Davies.
Christopher Nolan's new film, The Odyssey, has earned critical praise and big box office returns.
This retelling of the classic story from ancient Greece features plenty of recognized stars,
and it's also burnished the reputation of an established star in the world of classical scholarship.
That's our guest today, Emily Wilson.
In 2017, Wilson published her own translation of The Odyssey,
a task that took six years to complete and had quite an impact.
Wilson was the first woman to translate The Odyssey into English,
though that's not the first thing she'd want you to know about her work.
Her translation was widely hailed in reviews for its vibrant language
and faithfulness to the original Greek text attributed to the poet Homer.
Her translation sold thousands of copies and was added to high school and college curricula across the country.
Wilson was awarded a prestigious MacArthur Fellowship,
and after she followed with the translation of The Iliad, a Guggenheim Fellowship.
Christopher Nolan has cited her translation in discussing his approach to the character of Odysseus in his new film.
In a review, Wilson called Nolan's film
though she said it's still an event to celebrate
because it's getting more people into theaters and interested in the classics.
Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies,
and chair of the Classics Department at the University of Pennsylvania,
and the author of several books, including a new one coming out in September.
It's a collection of essays introducing readers to the literature of ancient Greece and Rome
and the challenges of translation,
and exploring some modern themes,
such as parallels between the hip-hop of Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion
and the comedies of Aristophanes in 5th century Athens.
The book is titled Crossing the Wine-Dark Sea.
Emily Wilson, welcome to Fresh Air.
Thank you.
Thank you so much for having me.
Thank you for your zinnia in having me.
Zinnia, right.
Yes, hospitality.
I thought we would begin just because a lot of people know something about the Odyssey
but may not have thought about it in a long time.
Just give us a quick summary of the plot.
What is the story about?
The story is set in the aftermath of the mythical Trojan War,
and it centers on the mythical Greek hero from Ithaca, Odysseus,
and the final sequence of his very long,
extended journey home.
In Greek, there's a word nostos, from which we get nostalgia,
a story about a journey home from war.
The Odyssey traces the story of how Odysseus escapes from the island of Calypso,
a goddess with whom he's been spending the past seven years,
and finally, after many misadventures, makes it back to Ithaca,
and after many more misadventures on Ithaca,
reunites with his son Telemachus, his wife Penelope,
and slaughters the suitors.
Okay, that's a good, quick summary.
In interviews before Christopher Nolan's film was released,
you recommended that people should go and see it.
You wrote a pretty tough review.
Do you still think people should see it?
Absolutely, I think people should see it.
I think there's a lot to think about and talk about,
and I think it's a good time at the movies.
It's a big spectacle.
There's a lot to think about,
both in terms of what is this film saying about our times
and about war, violence, and deception in our times,
and also,
what it's doing with the source material.
I do think that it would have been better
if Nolan had hired a scriptwriter,
because that would have solved a lot of the issues.
But I also think the actors are amazing.
It's a star-studded cast,
and they're doing their absolute best
with the script they were given.
Right, actors are amazing,
not doing very much with character, right?
I mean, the language was pretty tough.
You're right, I would be ashamed
to have written any part of this script.
It's a family-friendly audiovisual spectacle,
like an elaborate Fourth of July fireworks display
with about the same level of narrative,
narrative, and emotional depth.
You also complained that there are no sex scenes
and all the food looks horrible.
Yes, I mean, that's the laugh line,
but the serious point I was trying to get to
with the laugh line about no sex, no food,
is that I think if we have a quest narrative,
whether it's in a poem, a novel, or a movie,
we need to have a protagonist
with detailed, believable motivation.
He needs to want something.
So the fact that these desires
seem to be stripped from Odysseus,
he doesn't seem to want food,
he doesn't seem to want sex.
What does he want?
He wants to assuage his guilt.
And that seemed to me rather a thin motivation,
especially compared to the rich-layered characterization
of both Odysseus and the other characters in Homer,
but also just compared to a good movie.
I would like to have deeper characterization in a film.
I would like to care more.
By the time I saw the film,
I had spent a lot of time preparing for this interview,
so my head was into The Odyssey and some of your work.
And I found the film disappointing, honestly,
and one of the reasons was that the gods and goddesses
in The Odyssey are really active creatures.
They intervene in human events.
They are angry at times and jealous
and capricious and compassionate.
And they're just kind of missing from this film, aren't they?
They're kind of missing.
I mean, there's a moment when Zendaya,
who's sort of Athena but maybe not,
says to Matt Damon's Odysseus,
who's complaining that the gods don't speak
in a language that mortals can understand,
and Zendaya says,
who doesn't understand thunder, fire, a baby's cry?
We understand those things.
So implicitly, the gods are present.
But I felt the film, in some ways,
wanted to have it both ways,
that there's a noise in the soundtrack,
there's thunder, so of course Zeus is there.
There's Zeus's law, which is repeatedly invoked.
And yet, it's also very unclear,
are we actually supposed to believe in Zeus and Poseidon?
Or is Calypso a goddess?
Is Circe a goddess?
I would have liked a little bit more of the divine.
Yeah, you get a sense in the poem,
and I'd listen to your translation,
of a world that was really different,
where people felt the gods.
They weren't entities that they occasionally prayed to.
They were out there all the time,
and that was a very different kind of world.
Yeah, I mean, I love the alien-ness of the Homeric poems.
I mean, they both have this, in some ways,
very familiar narrative about community and family
and homecoming, and yet also things that are so alien,
such as animal sacrifice,
which runs all the way through the Odyssey,
and the Iliad.
Well, we're not here to talk about the movie.
I want to talk about this work that you do,
which has gotten so much attention and praise.
You know, you've been reading ancient Greek
for a long, long time.
You've been teaching it to students for decades,
using many of the existing translations of the Odyssey.
I was surprised until I read your book,
because I didn't know how many times
it had been translated.
What made you want to try your own
after teaching it for so long?
Part of the answer was certainly informed
by having taught it in translation,
as well as lived with the original Greek poem for so long.
I felt in my many iterations of teaching
the Odyssey and the Iliad in translation,
using multiple different 20th and 21st century translations,
that there were things I wanted to get across
to my students in the classroom
that were very difficult to convey
using the existing translations.
One of those was the fact that
the original Odyssey is a poem.
It's in regular traditional meter,
designed for performance out loud,
most people in antiquity,
over many centuries,
experienced it as performance poetry,
performed by rhapsodes
who would learn sections or the whole thing by heart,
and perform it rhythmically,
probably with musical accompaniment.
So the lack of meter in most existing
20th and 21st century translations
seemed to me a big omission.
And I was constantly saying to my students,
remember it's a poem,
but then we would read a bit
and it didn't sound much like a poem.
And then the other thing is that
the handbook is a poem,
the Homeric poems are also proto-dramatic.
They were composed before drama really existed,
but they are, they're multi-vocal.
They have these different characters
who speak in different voices,
have different perspectives.
And I felt some of those proto-dramatic qualities,
the multi-vocality was very often flattened out
in existing translations
that I'd used with my students.
You know, I think you say in your new book
at some point that translation is impossible.
Translation of poetry is really impossible.
I mean, I had this realization many decades ago
when I was a student,
I was looking at a poem by the Chilean poet,
Pablo Neruda,
and I knew enough Spanish to read the Spanish
and the English and it dawned on me
that you can't really translate poetry
the same way you would translate,
you know, a court deposition or a UN speech
because poetry uses language
in a very sophisticated way
to convey images and emotions and impressions.
And if you use those same words
in a different language,
it's not going to work.
You have to kind of absorb the impact
and reinvent it.
Yes, poetry is, of course,
the ultra-marked kind of language.
language which draws attention to itself as language. And of course, different poetic
traditions mark language in different ways. So in the archaic period, the Homeric poetry uses
dactylic hexameter, which is a regular traditional meter associated with narrative poetry. So in
order to create the same effect, I use the meter that's traditional in English, which is iambic
pentameter, rather than using free verse or prose, which is what most modern translators do. And then
similarly, Homeric poetry is marked by other sound patterns, such as alliteration and assonance.
So again, I mean, if you're translating an ad or a court deposition, you may not need to think
about the sound effects in quite the same way as I think you do need to think about the sound
effects if you're translating a poem, especially one that's designed for oral performance.
Wow. So you really put yourself in a difficult position here. You're not only taking these
sophisticated ideas and images and stories, trying to put them in English, but you're doing
it using meter and iambic pentameter. And you also use the same number of lines as the original
poem? Yes. How many? 12,000, something like that? Over 12,000, yes. So that was another thing that
I thought on reflection about my experience in teaching the Odyssey in many different translations
was that, as you said before, translation is very difficult. There's never a one-to-one equivalent
of this word in archaic Greek means exactly the same as this word in contemporary English. So you're
always thinking, maybe there are 10 different words I could use there. So the temptation is
always to expand on the original, to use three or four words where the original might use only one.
But then, of course, you're also betraying something that's essential also to the experience
of the original, which is its pacing. And the rapidity, the propulsive quality of, please tell
me more, tell me more, keep going, is very much part of the experience of Homer in Greek. And I
the verbose quality of quite a lot of existing translations.
Well, we're going to talk about this a little more. We need to take a break here, though. Let
me reintroduce you. We are speaking with Emily Wilson. She's a professor of classical studies
at the University of Pennsylvania who has translated the Iliad and the Odyssey. Her
new collection of essays is titled Crossing the Wine-Dark Sea. I'm Dave Davies, and this
is Fresh Air Weekend. I'm Dave Davies. As audiences are still
streaming into theaters to see Christopher Nolan's $250 million adaptation of the classic
story The Odyssey, we are speaking with University of Pennsylvania classics professor Emily Wilson.
Her translation of The Odyssey, completed in 2017, was praised by critics and scholars for
bringing the ancient text to life. Nolan cited her translation in discussing his approach to
the character of Odysseus in his film. I want to hear some of what you do. And it's interesting,
you note that English translations of The Odyssey date back to 1611, I think, and continue
up, and some of them are very recent, within, you know, in the 21st century. So I thought
we would take a passage, a familiar passage, maybe have you give us the reading in the
original Greek, and then maybe talk about one of the existing translations, and then
give us a sense of what you did with your own. So what passage would you like to read
to us?
In the book, I discuss at great length, the challenges of translating what's called the
proem of The Odyssey, which is the first few lines of the poem. So maybe we can focus on that.
In the Odyssey, it's tell, it's epo, en nepe. So it starts in a way at a more casual or more ordinary level as we're building up towards what is in some ways a more domestic story than that of the Iliad. So I think there's something quite striking about choosing to translate a tell verb with a sing verb. So there's a grandiosity to the language.
to come.
It piques your interest because you're not told right away a very definitive thing about Odysseus.
So I think it's very much a choice on the part of the composer of this poem not to use one of the more common epithets for Odysseus, such as polymetis, meaning crafty, or polymekinos, meaning that he's skilled in technological inventions like the wooden horse.
But this much more rare epithet, polytropos, which Pagels translates as a man of twists and turns, it suggests a twistiness, a turniness, a layeredness, which applies both to the protagonist and the poem and his journey.
And we don't yet know how many disguises or turns will this protagonist take or what will it look like, what will it sound like in the narrative of the poem.
And kind of the many-faceted character of Odysseus, I guess, is one of the things that you really miss.
That's the shame.
I mean, I think the movie is doing something in a way very brave by stripping away everything that we expect and, in my case, I certainly feel this way, love about Odysseus in the poem, which is that he's clever and multiple and smart and therefore a fascinating character.
Whereas the movie gives us a version of Matt Damon as Odysseus who is not required to be smart.
Instead, he's just constantly troubled by anxiety about his role in the Trojan horse.
Let's talk a little bit about your background.
You grew up in England in a family of scholars.
Your sister, Bea, is a noted food writer.
Tell us a little about your childhood.
What kind of kid were you?
I was a real nerd and I'm still a real nerd, as you can probably guess.
I mean, I spent so much time in my childhood reading.
I was always very shy and introverted.
At age eight, you had what you've described as a turning point in your life.
Most of us don't have turning points at age eight, I think, maybe.
But you were in a play.
Tell us about this.
Yes.
So I went to the local primary school and the teachers there were getting sick of doing nativity plays every year.
So they wanted to mix it up and use their creativity.
So they did a kid's adaptation of the Odyssey.
And Bea was Helen of Troy.
She was great.
And I got to be Athena and I got to make my own tinfoil helmet.
And we got to gouge out the eye of the headmaster who played Polyphemus.
He was wonderfully game.
And let us do it.
And it was such fun.
And for me, as a very shy child, I realized that there was this wonderful outlet through the world of stories,
especially through the world of Greek myth.
So it turned me on to the fact that this world of magic existed.
And I was the wrong generation for Percy Jackson.
But I read all of the kids' adaptations that I could get my hands on.
And then eventually I went to a high school where I could learn Latin and Greek.
And so my life.
Emily Wilson, thank you so much for speaking with us.
Thank you so much.
Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania,
who's translated The Iliad and The Odyssey.
Her new collection of essays is titled Crossing the Wine Dark Sea.
Now let's hear Tanya Mosley's interview with the actor John Bernthal,
who plays Menelaus, King of Sparta, in Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey.
Here's Tanya.
My guest today, John Bernthal, has spent two decades playing the kind of men you'd want to avoid.
And somehow he makes you root for them anyway.
This summer, he's in two major films, reprising his role as the Punisher in the upcoming Spider-Man movie
and starring in Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey.
His breakout role in 2010 was as Shane on The Walking Dead,
a sheriff's deputy protecting a band of survivors from zombies until he becomes the greater threat.
He won an Emmy as Mikey, the brother whose ghost haunts every episode of The Bear.
And this year, he starred in the Netflix hit series His and Hers
and appeared on Broadway in Dog Day Afternoon.
Bernthal says he couldn't have predicted any of this.
He grew up in Washington, D.C., a baseball player better known for fighting than acting.
And by his own telling, he was a kid headed in the wrong direction.
An acting teacher saw something in him and sent him, of all players,
places to one of the world's toughest classical theater conservatories, in Russia.
He returned transformed, co-founded a theater company,
performed in dozens of stage productions,
and spent years grinding through sitcom guest spots and small film roles
before his break finally came.
In The Odyssey, Bernthal makes his Christopher Nolan film debut,
playing Menelaus, king of Sparta.
A few weeks into production, in the Moroccan desert,
the cast shot the Trojan horse.
One of the film's most iconic scenes.
Matt Damon's character and more than a dozen warriors
cram inside the belly of the horse, waiting to invade Troy.
The horse sits partially submerged,
and Bernthal draws the short straw,
neck deep, treading in freezing water that was supposed to be heated.
And word has it, as Bernthal stood there shivering,
Nolan offered to pull him out, but he refused.
John Bernthal, welcome to Fresh Air.
It's a real honor.
Why did you refuse to get out of that cold, freezing water?
Oh boy, I don't feel like I drew the short straw at all.
I think any time, you know, that you really care about something,
or you believe in something, if you have the opportunity to sort of be the one
to say, send me first, let me show you what I can do.
I feel like our grit and our dedication is the one thing
that we have control of in this world, and I love doing this.
I love that I got to. work for Chris and with Chris, and if he wanted to send somebody,
I wanted to be that first one, for sure.
I think that's, you know, I would jump at that again.
It's interesting, Matt Damon said,
you pushing through that uncomfortable moment,
I mean, like, really, because it was the hardest role
he said he's ever played, just physically.
And so to see you sit in that uncomfortable situation
actually pushed him to push through his discomfort.
Tell us a little bit about that.
Tell us a little bit about that character,
and the significance of you being submerged in that water
for all of that time.
Look, you know, so kind of Matt to say that,
but like I said, I really wouldn't have had it any other way.
You know, when you look at that film
and the experience for the folks that made it,
I remember my first day arriving there,
just seeing the look in his eyes.
He's a guy I know, he's a guy that I respect deeply.
Yeah, for sure.
And just, you know, the first words he said to me
when I saw him on the set,
on this beach with thousands of extras in Morocco,
right after traveling across the world,
he just said,
John, I've never seen anything like this before.
I said, me too, man, but if you haven't seen it,
well, no one has.
Well, you have had quite a busy few years,
and the other film that's coming out is Spider-Man.
You've played Frank Castle for 10 years,
and you've been pretty protective of this particular role.
Like, you take up for him and all of his shortcomings as well,
and you're bringing him to this Spider-Man movie,
rated for kids.
What did you, or did you,
negotiate or refuse to let them soften
when it comes to the Punisher,
in particular for this movie?
Yeah, look, I think historically this is a character,
you know, for the folks that don't know,
you know, it's a character whose family was killed
in sort of a shootout
between a bunch of different criminal figures
from the underworld,
and his family and children were taken from him,
right when he got back from fighting overseas.
He's a forced-recon Marine,
and in our version, a Marine Raider.
And it brings up so many issues.
But I think beyond just sort of the spiraling,
reeling loss of his family and how he's reacting to that,
we've really sort of delved into issues of PTSD
and traumatic brain injury
and the feeling with so many vets who come home,
guys who are tip-of-the-spear vets
who really feel lost and wayward
and don't know what to do next.
And, you know, look, I think I've said before,
I was quite trepidatious and hesitant
about sort of getting into the superhero world.
It wasn't something that I was looking to do.
It wasn't something that I sought out.
How come?
You know, for a few reasons.
I think, you know, the folks that I've respected the most
in acting, some of my heroes,
not that I respect them most,
but a lot of my heroes sort of never went that way.
And I think times have definitely changed.
But, you know, to have superpowers,
or to fly through the air,
I just, that just never,
I think the characters that I'm really interested in
are enormously grounded.
I try to make them,
and I try to find things about them
that I can deeply relate to,
or they take me down a path that scares me intensely.
And so I have to go sort of explore that path.
And with the Punisher in particular.
Yeah, look, I've said before,
there's no way that I could begin to take on that character
if I wasn't a husband and a father first.
Foremost, and to fully and palpably understand,
you know, the feeling of loving people on this earth
and happily give my life for these people on this earth.
How would it feel if these people were taken from me?
So I always want Frank to live there.
And he's not a character looking for the light.
He's not a character looking for things to get easier
or for things to get better.
Yet he's a human being.
And I think all the time with my, you know,
the roles that I play,
I love opportunities to turn my back on the audience.
And I love to sort of take it too far
to try to push myself to a place
or push the audience to a place.
where they can no longer be with this character,
but then try to win them back
through showing the fragility of their heart,
showing how brokenhearted they are,
showing how much pain they have,
because I do think pain is a real adhesive,
and I think it's the thing that really connects all of us.
We are listening to Tanya Mosley's interview
with actor John Bernthal.
He plays Menelaus, king of Sparta,
in Christopher Nolan's epic The Odyssey,
and he reprises his role as Frank Castle,
the Punisher, in the new Spider-Man film.
We'll hear more of their conversation after a short break.
I'm Dave Davies.
Let's get back to Tanya Mosley's interview
with actor John Bernthal.
He returns as the Punisher
in the latest Spider-Man film, Brand New Day.
He plays Menelaus, king of Sparta,
in Christopher Nolan's epic The Odyssey.
His breakout role was as Shane in The Walking Dead,
and he won an Emmy for his role as Mikey in The Bear.
He just ended his run on Broadway,
starring alongside his longtime friend
Eben Moss-Bachrach in the play Dog Day Afternoon.
I want to talk a little bit about the beginning
so that we can kind of understand this a little bit about you,
because it's so clear.
Your toughness has a history.
You grew up in Washington, D.C.,
one of three brothers.
You went to Sidwell Friends, the Quaker school,
where presidents have sent their children,
and it's kind of a place known for nonviolence and peace, right?
Absolutely.
Yeah.
And by your own telling,
here you were in this school in fights
and always chasing the most dangerous thing
in the room, it seems.
What did that look like?
Yeah, I think never fighting in school ever, you know?
And I really think that sort of the values of that school,
you know, were really ingrained
in me, even if it took me years and years
for them to sort of come out and really come to fruition
and to really understand and believe in them.
But there's no question that, you know,
when I was a young, scared, confused man,
that I did, I would run into the,
run towards the most wild, the most dangerous,
the craziest situations.
What do you think it was that you were attracted to about it?
And what did it look like?
I think for so many young men, it's about fear.
It's about fear and it's about shame.
There's a wonderful book that has,
meant so much to me.
And I really suggest everybody read it,
but especially I think young men.
There's a book named Townie by Andre Dubu III.
It's an incredible memoir, but it sort of,
it really sort of tells the story about how fear and shame,
you know, can kind of lead to violence
and how we sometimes become the very thing
that we're scared of.
And I do have a real relationship, I think,
with danger that I have been in some situations
that, you know, could have gone,
in many ways.
And I think to a certain point,
I think that that's really important.
I also am so grateful that I'm so far past that now
and so far beyond that now.
And that mostly that I found this work
that all of the reckless abandon and sort of wild things
that I got into as a young man,
I can bring that same energy into my work.
And hopefully I can bring these kinds of folks,
I can bring a real humanity to
these kinds of folks
and through that same sort of reckless abandonment
and wildness.
And I think that that is,
that's my favorite way of working.
So you're a young man
and you are in this school
where you're learning all these wonderful things
about conflict resolution.
I heard you talk about,
there's this Quaker ritual
where you all would sit in silence
and then when you had something that you needed to say,
you could say it.
Can you describe that?
Sure.
I mean, it's, you know,
the way that Quakers worship is so,
so beautiful.
And, you know, there's no hierarchy in that religion.
There's no priests, there's no rabbis,
there's no ministers.
There's just this fundamental belief
that there's that of God in everyone.
And that's something, again, that at the time,
you know, I looked at those meeting for worships
as just a time to either sleep or look at girls
or, you know, try to not laugh.
Because you all would all sit in a room
and it'd just be quiet.
Everybody, silence, you know, every coach,
every security guard,
everybody from buildings and grounds,
every teacher, every administrator, every student,
you would just sit in silence together.
And the idea is if that of God moves you,
you get up and you address the congregation,
whatever comes from your heart.
And I fundamentally believe in that.
Did you ever do that?
I did.
I did.
I only did it once.
I only did it once.
And it was actually strangely after I had gotten
into an altercation outside of school
and I talked about,
I've never spoke about this before,
but there was a man who came
after my little brother on a basketball court in DC.
And I ended up getting into an altercation with this man.
And I spoke about it because I was so scared,
but I ended up having this just unbelievably profound sense
of sorrow for this man.
And I really empathize with this man.
And I really saw a lot of myself in this man at that time.
And that was the only time I spoke.
And it was a profound experience
because I didn't plan to speak.
I didn't go in saying today's my day
to speak in meeting for worship.
It really did just hit me in the moment,
which was strange for that point in my life.
Your father was a corporate lawyer.
And is that right?
He became that.
Yeah.
At first.
Yeah.
Your grandfather, a musician and a producer.
And your mom and brothers are also powerhouses.
I mean, you come from a really impressive family.
It sounds like discipline and accomplishment
were a big part of the foundation.
Of you guys.
And how would they describe your place in the family?
Oh, boy.
I was definitely the black sheep.
You know, I was definitely the one who got in trouble.
I was definitely the one who. You're the middle boy?
I was the middle boy.
You know, both of my brothers are enormously
sort of quote unquote successful.
So my eldest brother, you know, right out of college
got into the news.
He was a producer.
I think he won four Emmys by the time he was 20.
He was the youngest producer on TV.
And then he started this small firm,
which it was enormously successful.
And then my little brother,
who just kind of was always that way.
He was an all-American football player
and played basketball at Princeton
and, you know, went to medical school.
My wife is a ICU trauma nurse.
I was living with my wife and my little brother
when he was in medical school.
And I was a starting struggling actor
just taking odd jobs to get by.
But, you know, my brother now is, you know,
he's the head of oncology and orthopedics here at UCLA.
How proud your parents must be of you guys.
Yeah, but again, I got to tell you,
my dad grew up in a, you know, split family home.
You know, my parents didn't come from much.
There was never a huge onus in my house for achievement
or they weren't, you know, pushing us.
You know, we lived in DC.
We had an open door policy.
You know, my house was the house that,
you know, if you were in trouble,
you came to talk to my dad.
If you needed a bed, you came to my mom.
You know, they were foster parents.
They took in foster kids.
The alchemy of how they did it was so extraordinary.
And I have to tell you, without a doubt,
I am the failure of the family.
I've done the least by far.
And what they are most proud of is how close we are.
And, you know, my parents really put up with a lot with me.
They really did.
What do you think it was that had you driving towards that danger?
For you.
For you as a young person.
Because I do think it plays into the way you're able to give
such a real performance of these conflicted and violent people
that you often portray.
I don't know.
I mean, honestly, it's a good question.
You know, as a young man,
I know I saw my older brother get picked on a good bit.
And I know that I sort of made a choice
that that was never going to happen to me.
And I know that I was really sort of fell into sort of a natural,
protector role for my little brother.
And then I think it just kind of got carried away.
And I think that, again, you know,
I think never underestimate the power of fear and shame, you know.
And I think you can go from somebody who's very scared
into somebody who is very scary.
And I think that that is just the sort of the natural progression of things.
Unfortunately,
so much of the time.
And then I think it's you also then have a potential to go to the next place,
which is, you know, you can start using that.
You can come to a place where you're comfortable and you're confident
and you're open to all kinds of thoughts.
And you're not led by fear.
You're not led by shame.
You're really you become curious.
And I do genuinely believe that's where I am now.
I'm really hungry and open and curious.
And I don't I really try not to judge folks.
And I really do see that, you know, I've I've found wisdom and grace and beauty
in folks that a lot of people would label as some of the scariest people out there.
Acting finds you, though, in a very interesting way, almost by accident.
So you're this this hellion in Washington, D.C., as you put it.
You go to Skidmore College to play baseball.
You walk into an intro acting class as a freshman thinking that you can kind of sleep through it.
And the first assignment is for you to.
bring something you care about and talk about it in this acting class. And you forgot. So you grab
your catcher's glove and you spin this story that your mother had given it to you on her deathbed,
but she's alive and well. And do you remember how you felt after you gave this monologue
and you looked around the room and you saw the responses of everybody?
I was blown away. It was an out-of-body experience. I had told this story and I knew that it took
that leap to sort of jump into something. It never dawned on me that it even mattered whether
it was true or not. In that room, I knew my back was against the wall. I know I hadn't brought
anything. I knew it was an enormously emotive room and a level of sort of openness with these
young artists, these serious young theater artists that I was completely unfamiliar with.
And I knew that I had to jump.
And it was. It was no different, honestly, than jumping into a street fight or jumping into a football game
or jumping into a situation that, okay, there's only one thing to do here. If you're sparring and
boxing, okay, let's go. You just take that step and you go. And I have, from a young age, been
quite addicted to that step. And I knew that that step was necessary there, even though I had no
idea what I was doing. And I always come back to this word, reckless abandonment. You stop thinking.
You get out of your. Your own head and you just go forward and you try to connect with something bigger. And, you know, I do remember kind of coming back to myself with tears down my eyes, you know, with the story that I completely made up. But then also, you know, noticing while I was telling the story, the sort of grip, the real palpable grip that I had over the other folks in the room. And I saw the emotion from them. And I knew that it was something special. And I knew that it was something, something very powerful.
You're a teacher. You're a teacher, though.
Yeah.
She saw the talent in you, but she called bull. She knew that this was. Yeah.
Alma Becker is her name.
Alma Becker. Yeah. Her name's right here on my wrist.
You have a tattoo.
I do. It's of the Moscow Art Theater and Alma's name. And, yeah, she saved my life, you know? I mean, she was as. You know, what I found that day with her was a level of vitality and a level of. You know, I always. I always sort of thought of the arts in my own sort of naive way, that it was a soft place. It was a place of just complete acceptance and not one of rigor and discipline and real vitality. And, boy, did she give it to me and sort of ripped me apart.
She saw something in you.
She did. She said. Yeah, her punishment was that I had to audition for the play, for the college, you know, production.
So you did that, and you did that for a while. You started to really get into it. You started to really feel it. And her answer to you, as she saw your talent blossom, was that you needed to go to Russia, to the Moscow Art Theater School, one of the most demanding classical conservatories in the world. It is 1999. You don't speak a lick of Russian. And you go. Why Russia, of all places?
I think just like what you were talking about.
With, you know, Mr. Nolan in the beginning, I would have done anything Alma told me to do. I wanted this. It didn't take long. I auditioned for that play. And I remember telling my best friend, Greg Zumis, that summer. I remember sitting down with him when we had, you know, we were delivering pizzas at the beach. And I remember telling him, man, this is what I have to do. This is what I'm going to do. Like, there's no question.
And I think, number one, you know, this sort of private school kid from D.C. who thought he was all big and bad, you know, getting out and really. And seeing Moscow, I think, would be enormously humbling and just be a reality check that I needed. I think she also knew that I needed to kind of get away from all the people that I was with and that it was, you know, a group of young men that sort of crave danger is much different than one man on his own.
But mostly, you know, Russia is and was a place with such a rich theatrical history.
Where being an actor is such a serious profession, you can't do it without real rigorous training.
There's statues of actors, you know, in the city. It's much more akin to being a soldier.
And it's that way because it's not taken for granted there.
Absolutely.
Because it's been, it's policed. It's been censored.
Of course. I mean, actors have been assassinated. Directors have been assassinated in their homes.
The opportunity to get a group of people to gather publicly and to put on a show.
It was something that for so long was controlled by the state. It was controlled by the state for all of my teachers.
So, you know, for them, you know, this was not a hobby. This was not something that you just got to do.
It was such a privilege. It was such an honor. An honor that they performed in plays where had they been caught, they risked imprisonment.
They risked assassination. Putting on theatrical productions that weren't state sponsored was absolutely risking their life.
And they did it anyway. All of them. It changed everything for them.
It's really interesting that she saw in you that a place like Russia, because when we think about Russia, I mean, conditions are tough.
It is rough. You went to Russia and you're like, wait, I thought I was a tough guy.
Oh, yeah. The brutality there was unlike anything I had ever seen. But so was the beauty.
Look, you know, I had guns, multiple guns pulled on me, you know, within my first week there.
You know, I had I saw.
You know, people that were left dead in the street.
I saw a level of desperation, of wildness, of unbelievable disparity between those that have and those that do not.
You know, people called it the wild, wild west. But what I mean, it was run by criminals.
I mean, that's just what was going on there then.
And you were yet going to school every day, going to class every day.
Yeah. You know, living in this tiny little place with four other people.
I slept on the floor. We turned the lights on.
You know, the cockroaches.
The cockroaches would go everywhere. You feel them climbing over you all at night.
The buildings had curfews. So you, you know, you could only get in and out at certain times.
And then if you needed to get out, you know, you'd throw the fire hose down and you'd rappel down out of the windows.
I mean, it was it was a wild place in a wild time.
But the most alive, the most impactful time of my life, without a doubt.
Well, John Bernthal, I really thank you for your work and I thank you for this conversation.
I appreciate you having me.
I really do.
John Bernthal speaking with Tanya Mosley.
He plays Menelaus, King of Sparta and Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey.
And he reprises his role as Frank Castle, the Punisher in the new Spider-Man film.
Fresh Air Weekend is produced by Teresa Madden.
Our executive producer is Sam Brigger.
Our technical director is Audrey Bentham.
Our engineer this week is. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Anne-Marie Baldonado,
Lauren Krenzel, Monique Nazareth, Thaya Chaloner, Susan Yakundi, Anna Bauman, and Nico Gonzalez-Whistler.
Our digital media producer is Molly C.V. Nesper.
For Terry Gross and Tanya Mosley, I'm Dave Davies.
Podcast Summary
Key Points:
Emily Wilson, a leading classical scholar, praises Christopher Nolan’s *The Odyssey* as a significant cultural event but criticizes its script for lacking emotional depth, character motivation, and the divine presence central to the original text.
Wilson’s own translation of the *Odyssey* is lauded for its poetic meter, fidelity to the original Greek, and revival of the poem’s performance-oriented, multi-vocal nature, which existing translations often flatten.
She argues that a compelling hero like Odysseus must have detailed, believable desires—such as a need for food, sex, or emotional reassurance—something absent in the film’s portrayal.
Wilson highlights the absence of gods and goddesses in the film, contrasting with the active, capricious divine world of Homer’s poem, where gods intervene in human affairs.
The film, while visually spectacular and star-studded, is seen as a shallow retelling that prioritizes spectacle over narrative and emotional complexity.
Wilson’s work, including her new book *Crossing the Wine-Dark Sea*, explores the challenges and artistry of translating ancient texts, emphasizing the impossibility of literal translation and the need for creative reinvention.
John Bernthal, who plays Menelaus in the film, speaks about his commitment to portraying complex, grounded characters through physical and emotional authenticity, especially in high-stress scenes.
Bernthal’s journey from a troubled youth to a disciplined actor reflects a deeper connection to humanity, trauma, and vulnerability—central themes in both his roles and the broader discussion of character depth in storytelling.
Summary:
Emily Wilson, a professor of classical studies and the first woman to translate Homer’s *Odyssey* into English, offers a critical yet constructive perspective on Christopher Nolan’s film adaptation. While she acknowledges the film’s box office success and cultural impact, she finds its script lacking in emotional depth, character motivation, and the active presence of gods, which are central to the original epic. Wilson emphasizes that the ancient poem is a performance-driven, multi-vocal work designed to evoke emotion through rhythm, sound, and layered character voices—elements missing in the film.
She argues that Odysseus, as a character, must have tangible desires, such as hunger or longing for intimacy, to feel real and relatable. Her own translation, praised for its poetic meter and fidelity to the Greek original, underscores the difficulty and artistry of rendering ancient poetry into modern language. , to a committed actor rooted in authenticity and emotional truth.
Bernthal’s work in both *The Odyssey* and the *Punisher* reflects a dedication to portraying complex, traumatized humans, emphasizing pain, vulnerability, and human connection as central to compelling performance. Together, the discussion highlights the tension between cinematic spectacle and authentic storytelling, and the enduring value of the original text in shaping modern interpretations.
FAQs
Emily Wilson criticizes the film for lacking emotional depth, character development, and believable motivation for Odysseus. She notes that the protagonist doesn't seem to desire food or sex, making his motivation feel thin and unrealistic compared to the richly layered characters in Homer's original poem.
In the original poem, the gods are active, capricious, and deeply involved in human affairs. Wilson feels they are absent from the film, even though there are indications of divine presence through sound effects. She believes this undermines the ancient world's sense of divine involvement and the emotional depth of the narrative.
Wilson used iambic pentameter to match the original Greek dactylic hexameter, preserving the poem’s rhythmic and performative qualities. She also maintained the original poem’s multi-vocal, proto-dramatic structure and avoided free verse or prose, which she believes strips away the poem’s emotional and narrative power.
The epithet 'polytropos' means 'man of many turns' and reflects Odysseus’s complex, layered nature and unpredictable journey. Wilson emphasizes that this quality is lost in many translations and in Nolan’s film, where Odysseus is portrayed as a less intelligent, more unidimensional character.
She argues that poetry uses language in a sophisticated, image-rich way that cannot be directly translated. Words and sounds carry emotional and sensory weight that must be reimagined in another language, requiring the translator to absorb the impact and reinvent it authentically.
Her new book, 'Crossing the Wine-Dark Sea,' explores the challenges and modern relevance of translating ancient Greek literature. It includes essays on the nature of translation, modern parallels like hip-hop and ancient comedy, and the enduring themes of human experience in classical texts.
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