Christopher Nolan returns to the big screen with his latest epic, The Odyssey. In an adaptation thousands of years in the making, he puts his ability to craft large-scale action and drama to the test, shooting fully in IMAX to give audiences the greatest immersive experience possible—a story about narrative giants given the scale they deserve.
With the release comes the requisite look back at his career, from his early days as he was still establishing a sense of style that would organically find roots in naturalist lighting and analog film, to his work in redefining the superhero filmic canon, to his later work, where his curiosity in science overtakes much of it. From black holes to time travel, wartime epics, and the follies of man, he explores each with a titanic approach to filmmaking.
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For as much as Nolan’s approach to certain elements of his filmmaking irks at times, there’s no denying his mastery of craft, even if the sound design and scores threaten to consume the film whole. Brimming with original ideas and looking to find ways to build off of those ideas to form visions of wonder and practical craftsmanship, we ranked his films, all of which are worth exploring to see how he’s built his career and to find signs of where it might continue to go.
12. Following (1998)
Listen, it’s Christopher Nolan doing noir. Some people will find that exciting, and there are certain elements to his first feature film, Following, that are fun for fans of the filmmaker. It’s clear there are things he’s always been fascinated by, from bespoke suits to layered mysteries (that don’t always need that third layer).
But while the film is indicative of the skills Nolan will continue to hone throughout his career, it’s an absolute drag. The first 20 minutes feel like 40. The style is all there, and the actors have enough presence to make it watchable, but it’s the epitome of style over substance, and not in a fun way. Nolan has always needed a spark of spectacle to let his stories take off.
11. Tenet (2020)
Bloodless, soulless, and wholly unremarkable, Tenet suffered from a deluge of issues, in part due to Christopher Nolan’s insistence on it getting the theatrical-only treatment, despite the world still being locked in the throes of COVID. His inability to read the room proved elitist and out of touch and set the tone for the ensuing film that fails to understand the filmmaker’s strengths. Or, more importantly, his weaknesses.
Lost in the techno babble that overwhelms the fun bouts of espionage action, in Nolan’s efforts to achieve some intellectual blockbuster flick, he instead leans so far into verbosity that it loses the plot and the audience immediately. The sound mixing (a frequent issue for Nolan) doesn’t help the muffled artifice of the film.
Nor does John David Washington’s lead performance, an actor who has proven himself time and time again to be utterly devoid of charisma. When there’s so much bullshit being spewed, you at least need an actor of a certain charm to make us want to believe in the utter nonsense he’s saying.
10. The Dark Knight Rises (2012)
When the most memorable moments of the final film in a trilogy are what have become meme’d to death, there’s a chance it doesn’t stick with the triumphant finality the ending of a story necessitates. That said, The Dark Knight Rises isn’t a total disaster. Few films by Nolan are due to his innate understanding of how to bring technical prowess to sheer spectacle—it will always look good. Tom Hardy is imposing as Bane, and Anne Hathaway has a ball as Selina Kyle/Catwoman.
But for every good performance, there’s a bad one. And the film gives ample credence to the fleeting question of whether Marion Cotillard is a bad actress (she isn’t). And, at this point in the trilogy, Christian Bale lacked the consistent spark as the character (Robert Pattinson is a much more interesting modern interpretation) that’s vital in bringing what can become a storm cloud of a character to life.
Kevin Conroy was spectacular because there was always a dry note to his delivery, whispers of playfulness. In Nolan and Bale’s hands in The Dark Knight Rises, that spark – the ignition, even – is tough to find.
9. Insomnia (2002)
In the only film by Christopher Nolan in which the filmmaker didn’t write the script, Insomnia strikes a bizarre yet enticing tonal balance. It’s effectively Nolan by way of Silence of the Lambs or Twin Peaks. And, with Al Pacino at the center, particularly an overtly gesticulating Pacino, the film is weirder than most of Nolan’s work.
The off-kilter energy marries well with Pacino’s expressive performance, following a detective caught up in a mess of corruption, murder, and a killer’s web of paranoia as he loses himself to the constant daylight of the Alaskan setting he finds himself in.
Teasing out Robin Williams’s involvement is a master stroke, with audiences so familiar with his voice that the first time we hear it over the phone, taunting Pacino’s Detective Dormer, it sets up a fantastically unexpected villain. The film’s strengths are also its weaknesses. The frenetic energy is a draw, with bolder atmospheric choices than Nolan’s work lends itself to, but it also creates an off-putting energy. Really, it depends on what type of viewer you are. You love it, or you don’t.
8. Memento (2000)
A twisty noir puzzle led by an imposing performance from Guy Pearce, Memento is both a singular Nolan experience and a showcase of much of what the director ultimately becomes enamored with.
From nonlinear storytelling to troubled protagonists caught in seemingly impossible scenarios to a hyper-stylized approach to filmmaking, the film has all the keynotes of what makes Nolan’s work so easy to return to. That said, for all of its grit, it still feels like the work of a director finding his voice – because it is. The promise itself is almost more alluring than the actual whodunit-style story at the center.
7. Batman Begins (2005)
The love one has for Batman Begins is likely inspired by when and where they watched it. A 14-year-old watching it, whose only real DC exposure at that point was the animated series, is going to feel differently than someone who’s loved the character for decades and already seen the cowl pass from Michael Keaton to Val Kilmer and George Clooney. But there’s a definite charm to the start of the trilogy, even if, in retrospect, it’s bogged down by tonal swings and some truly abysmal casting with Liam Neeson and Katie Holmes.
Christian Bale excels in his moments as Bruce Wayne, a millionaire womanizer, and Nolan sets the tone for his version of Gotham. This is a Gotham inspired by heist films and classic American gangster flicks, which enriches the world and helps establish how these characters operate within it.
For good and bad, Nolan shepherded in a new era of superhero stories and blockbuster aesthetics, even if it’s hard to recall the specifics of the plot beyond the most straightforward story beats that anyone inundated with pop culture could map out in their sleep.
6. Oppenheimer (2023)
You’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone who can, without lying through their teeth, call the Oscar-winning Oppenheimer a bad film. It’s gorgeous filmmaking, rife with the thematic undercurrents that make up some of the filmmaker’s greatest achievements, anchored by a Cillian Murphy performance that fans of his have known he was capable of since he first emerged onto the scene.
The technical achievements alone are enough to call it his greatest triumph to date. There’s a welcome assuredness to Nolan’s work, a confidence in how he structures a story that is welcome in this era of movie-making.
Working with the tightest, most cohesive script of his career (aside from the minor but distracting misstep of that Einstein scene), the depths it probes about the misplaced conflation of genius with righteousness and the walloping despair that follows an achievement orchestrated for inescapable death and decay are haunting, and some of the richest text of any of his work.
Its greatest fault is that, no matter the staggering visual oblivion presented on screen, it’s also sterile. Oppenheimer keeps a firm hand on its big ideas about the cyclical nature of humanity’s penchant for destruction in pursuit of power and knowledge. But any emotion we feel comes from the feats of imagery, not so much by any attachment we feel for the characters themselves.
5. The Dark Knight (2008)
Full disclosure: I had a massive panic attack the first time I attempted to see The Dark Knight I didn’t even make it to the title card; my palms began to sweat, and I sought all the exits as the trailer for The Day the Earth Stood Still (that Keanu Reeves remake, literally no one talks about) played, then called my then-boyfriend to come pick me up. My panic attack didn’t recede as he regaled me with how he wanted the world to end, actually, as he sped on the highway home.
All of which is to say that there’s a chance my first—second even—impressions of this objectively well-executed film were tainted. So much so that, up until mere seconds before writing this, I’d argue vehemently that the first movie of the trilogy was superior.
But the fact is, aside from some lackluster action and Christian Bale moments of woodenness as he drowns under the cowl, The Dark Knight is excellent blockbuster cinema. Gripe as much as you want about the self-seriousness that Nolan employs in his takes on these superhero movies, but, like the Tim Burton adaptations, there’s a real sense of time and place in his version of Gotham.
On top of that, there’s, of course, the explosively restrained performance from Heath Ledger as The Joker. For a role that, when done right, can become synonymous with whoever is playing him, from Mark Hamill to Jack Nicholson, Ledger still manages to make this old, familiar foe feel new and reckless. Dangerous in a way that’s necessary for the character and helps infuse The Dark Knight with palpable, anxiety-inducing tension.
4. Dunkirk (2017)
A true epic demonstrative of Christopher Nolan’s eye for breathtaking spectacle, Dunkirk is a breathless rush of adrenaline in this wartime historical drama. Taking place as the Allied troops on the beaches of Dunkirk awaited rescue, the film follows different characters as they try to evade attacks while waiting to be evacuated from naval and civilian vessels.
The experience from air, land, and sea as chaotic brutality unfolds and the soldiers find themselves sitting ducks thrums with intense, white-knuckle anxiety. We’re all but holding our breath as we wait for some inevitable disaster, only for the most painful moments to be the most unexpected ones. While nothing will ever touch the brilliant devastation of the Dunkirk beach sequence in Atonement (if you know, you know), Nolan’s approach is just as bruising.
There’s a palpable sense of scale, ensuring that the soldiers seem impossibly small within the grand scope, while Nolan’s penchant for large film formats and analog craftwork delivers high-impact thrusts of action. Despite the wide-open space, the film evokes a stifling sense of claustrophobia as we race alongside these characters in their desperate pursuit of life, against mounting stakes.
3. The Prestige (2006)
In many ways, The Prestige splits the difference between signature Christopher Nolan moves and those that stand out against his work. On the one hand, there are the obvious hallmarks, from the appearance of frequent collaborators, his penchant for scientific curiosity, and, of course, his inability to write women well. But the film also has an oddball approach that’s unexpected, from characters who are deeply, obviously unlikable to the sense of magic and whimsy, even taking center stage as two magicians try to one-up each other.
Hugh Jackman is particularly effective in the film, bringing his character’s greed and ego to the forefront. The trick at the center of it and the twist ending are among the best in Nolan’s career, playing with smoke and mirrors rather than trying to outsmart the audience.
Imbued with a wicked air of playfulness (not Nolan’s standard at all) with immaculate worldbuilding and immersive sets, there’s a reason why it remains one of his most strictly entertaining ventures. The fun is the mystery, not in trying to ascertain what the hell he’s talking about.
2. Interstellar (2014)
There are two minor issues in Christopher Nolan’s epic exploration of fatherhood and the inescapability of time: the sound mixing and some galaxy-brained plotting at the emotionally assured end. Otherwise? A near masterpiece. And it’s a masterpiece because it feels so wildly ambitious, scaling his previous efforts while staying true to his greatest instincts as a filmmaker.
It’s easily his most emotionally present film, the father-daughter connection between Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) and Murph (Mackenzie Foy and Jessica Chastain) giving it a beating heart that fosters a tangible sense of soul and wounded expectations as neither can claim the dynamic they so wish to foster and protect.
So much of Nolan’s oeuvre involves the significance and instability of memory and how humankind’s pursuit of something more, something greater, works at odds with our egos and insecurities. A scientific marvel that levels entire cities. A man’s escape from reality in pursuit of another’s reclaimed truth.
A detective on the run from his own error, trapped in a sleepless fog. Local men who set out on fishing dinghies to add their names to the history books, only to die unceremoniously.
And all of this convalesces in Interstellar, which is both about how we as a species defy the odds and the ready callousness when our lives are on the line. Matthew McConaughey gives the performance of his career (barring True Detective) as this everyman, former NASA pilot, looks to confront and defeat the laws of physics, time, and space by coasting on the power of love, and even when it feels like a fool’s errand, the conviction remains.
Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and the fact that Nolan manages to balance that belief without nihilism, that his story does find port in the heart of it all, is why this is one of his greatest triumphs to date.
1. Inception (2010)
Like any popular film, it’s also funny to see the way “the discourse” ebbs and flows over time. And Inception, for the most part – and rightly so – remains largely unscathed. Sure, we can debate the ambiguity of the ending until we’re blue in the face, but this is original entertainment in its purest form. The original ideas aren’t just there for the sake of a dense plot for audiences to pick apart. Instead, they act as the foundation on which cinematic wonder can be built.
All of Nolan’s work celebrates practical effects, but few to the same breathtaking glee as watching Joseph Gordon-Levitt find weightlessness as a hallway begins to spin. There’s magic and wonder in Inception that makes it so worthy of repeat viewing. A “how did they do this?” effect is why people fall in love with movies in the first place.
The dream within a dream plotting is effective not just because it evokes some of the strongest emotional pulls of the director’s career, right down to Cobb (Leonard DiCaprio in full movie star mode) turning to see his kids again in the film’s tag, but because it acts as an excuse to truly build cinematic dreams from the ground up.
From the way cities warp and fall to the action-packed thrill of watching the group of characters problem-solve by dreaming bigger, there’s a tactility to the world constructed that makes it all the more exciting to exist in. The ensemble shares palpable chemistry together, and performances from Tom Hardy and Cillian Murphy pushed them further into the spotlight.
In an era about to be inundated with IP product filmmaking, superhero takeovers, sequels, prequels, sagas, and more, Inception feels like a last bastion of a bygone era of filmmaking. And it’s part of why, for his missteps and duds, we keep turning up for Christopher Nolan. Because we want original storytelling and Nolan knows that creativity and ingenuity can still find a place in blockbuster, event cinema.
The Odyssey is playing now in theaters everywhere.
