I’ll be honest, reader, my initial reaction was awe. I couldn’t find any criticism, and I left feeling as though I had just seen cinematic gold.

This is still true, but I’m not convinced that a large proportion of my enjoyment wasn’t about being blasted by the immersion of IMAX. This film simply would not have landed as well without the scale and scope of the imagery and the depth of sound.

It’s worth noting, too, that I put off watching The Odyssey for as long as I dared before it disappeared from cinemas. I cannot stand the sensation when a film is as hyped as this one, only to feel as though you’ve lost a family member when the credits roll because it wasn’t as good as you were promised.

Thankfully, The Odyssey didn’t leave me grieving.

For a film so vast, it’s remarkably good at making you care about the individuals caught within it. Everything has consequences. Alliances are questioned. Odysseus’s men show fear and doubt. They exist within this world rather than simply serving as an army of loyal followers.

Odysseus himself isn’t always easy to understand. His motives aren’t immediately clear, and the film doesn’t force you to like him, agree with his politics or approve of his choices. Gradually, though, I found myself rooting for him without the film needing to make him uncomplicatedly heroic.

The women are afforded similar complexity. Women have historically had an awful time in stories such as these, reduced to wives, prizes, temptations or symbols for the men around them. Here, they have character and gusto.

Anne Hathaway, somehow, feels like one of this year’s breakout stars. Her Penelope isn’t simply a woman in need of a man. She’s trying to preserve a leadership built on integrity, morality and community while constrained by the rules surrounding it. When she believes Odysseus isn’t coming back, we see just how much authority she has been holding back out of loyalty. Her devotion is a choice, not a weakness.

Tom Holland has the almost impossible challenge of breaking free from Spider Man and the youthful roles with which he has become associated. He does eventually manage it here, but it requires some patience. I’m not convinced he quite brings the bite the role needs.

Christopher Nolan understands when to let mythology be mythology. For a story of gods, witches and impossible events, it isn’t difficult to give yourself over to it. I particularly loved the witch sequence because it feels completely different from anything else in the film, while somehow remaining believable even as the CGI is pushed to within an inch of its life.

The CGI is probably one of my few reservations. Some of it will age terribly, and you can already see where that’s likely to happen. Thankfully, physical effects are clearly used wherever possible. This is a passion project, and you can see every penny on the screen.

The Trojan Horse is a brilliant example. It’s an image so familiar that it’s almost become a puppet in retellings. Here, it feels fucking horrible. It’s packed and claustrophobic, with men desperately trying to remain silent even when things go wrong. Short of showing every bodily reality of being crammed into a wooden structure for hours, I’m not sure it could have felt much more honest.

That honesty extends to the violence. Blood, gore and shock are used surprisingly sparingly, but when Nolan deploys them, they have impact.

The film also knows exactly when a moment is about to outstay its welcome. Sequences somehow keep getting bigger, bolder and more unbelievable while still taking you with them. Even during the final twenty minutes, I briefly thought, ah, okay, this is where everything begins to fall apart.

Nope.

It snatched me straight back.

The sound is as much a storytelling device as the cinematography. Yes, you’re blasted by this film, and God only knows what the sound levels were in that IMAX, but some of its most effective moments are the opposite. Everything disappears. You could hear a pin drop.

And neither could you hear the audience.

No rustling. No whispering. Just silence and complete attention.

That’s what makes it difficult to separate The Odyssey from the circumstances in which I saw it. The enormous screen, extraordinary sound and a room full of people surrendering themselves to the same experience became part of the film.

There are moments of extraordinary beauty amongst all the chaos. My favourite may simply be a sunset, an almost ironic moment of tranquillity in the middle of an absolute hellstorm of an adventure. The film can overwhelm you, but it also knows when to let you look.

I knew almost nothing about The Odyssey beforehand. It does appear to assume some familiarity with the story, and it took me a moment to catch up, but I was surprised by how easy it ultimately was to follow.

So how much of The Odyssey survives outside IMAX?

I genuinely don’t know. I don’t mean that as a criticism. Cinema has spent years telling us certain films need to be experienced on the biggest screen possible, and too often that’s little more than marketing.

Here, I believe it.

I walked in expecting another overhyped blockbuster.

I walked out wanting to see it again.