A King Returns: The Quiet Power of The Return

In The Return, director Urberto Pasolini offers a haunting and cerebral adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey—one that eschews spectacle in favour of something far more rare: emotional truth. This is not a film of soaring CGI or stylised battles; it is a story about people—about grief, longing, and the quiet resilience of the human spirit.

Ralph Fiennes as Odysseus

Ralph Fiennes is extraordinary as Odysseus. Gone is the swaggering warrior of myth; in his place stands a man weathered by time and trauma, returning not in glory but in shadow. Fiennes brings a profound interiority to the role—stoic, haunted, and utterly believable. Physically, he is equally compelling: sinewed and striking, his body speaks of survival and strength without vanity. In one unforgettable moment, he appears nude, his pose echoing an Ancient Greek sculpture so precisely it feels as though marble has come to life.

Juliette Binoche gives an equally commanding performance as Penelope. This Penelope is not merely waiting—she is enduring. Trapped in her own home, harassed by suitors determined to take both her hand and her kingdom, she walks a tightrope between dignity and despair. Binoche plays her with quiet fire and profound restraint, especially in scenes with Antinous (Marwan Kenzari), who conveys a compelling tension between longing and ruthless ambition. He may love her—or believe he does—but his desire for power eclipses all, even if it means eliminating her son.

The ensemble of suitors adds depth and threat. Jamie Andrew Cutler brings a ferocious energy to Polybus, infusing the character with unpredictable fury and youthful arrogance. Together, they offer textured, vivid portrayals that make the suitors feel dangerously real—never symbolic, always human.

The film’s pace is deliberate, almost meditative, giving weight to every glance, every silence. There’s poetry in its restraint. The direction is elegant and assured, and the score—exceptional in both composition and subtlety—threads through the film like a memory half-forgotten. It heightens without overwhelming, drawing emotion from every shadow and silence. Visually, it is stunning: Ithaca rendered in dusky light, salt-stained stone, and the aching beauty of landscapes that feel untouched by time.

The Return is not for the impatient. It is a film for grown-ups—those who understand that the real odyssey is not only the voyage out, but the long, uncertain journey home. It is about what it means to be changed by time, by war, by absence. About what remains when all else is stripped away.

There are so many layers to this film. Beneath its mythic frame lies something deeply human. It reminds us that PTSD has always existed—even if we didn’t have the words for it. Trauma, love, loss, endurance—these are timeless. And The Return honours that truth with rare grace.

This is myth reimagined not as fantasy, but as elegy. And it is, quite simply, a beautiful film.

The Return is in UK and Irish cinemas from 11 April

Charlie Ashford - Film Critic