Published Jul 3, 2026, 12:07 PM EDT
Diego Pineda has been a devout storyteller his whole life. He has self-published a fantasy novel and a book of short stories, and is actively working on publishing his second novel.
A lifelong fan of watching movies and talking about them endlessly, he writes reviews and analyses on his Instagram page dedicated to cinema, and occasionally on his blog. His favorite filmmakers are **Andrei Tarkovsky **and Charlie Chaplin. He loves modern Mexican cinema and thinks it’s tragically underappreciated.
Other interests of Diego’s include reading, gaming, roller coasters, writing reviews on his Letterboxd account (username: DPP_reviews), and going down rabbit holes of whatever topic he’s interested in at any given point.
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There are few filmmakers who, no matter what kind of film they make or which stars they feature, are capable of pulling millions of people into theaters with their reputation alone. Nowadays, **Christopher Nolan **is undoubtedly one of those filmmakers. He’s the modern king of the Hollywood blockbuster, and on July 17th of this year, the world will be treated to his next movie, an adaptation of Homer’s The Odyssey.
As the quintessential epic to end all epics, this Greek classic has influenced countless epics throughout the history of cinema, including many of the genre’s most essential classics. For clarity’s sake, a “classic” will be defined here as any widely celebrated movie released during the 20th century. From animated masterpieces like ***Princess Mononoke ***to live-action pillars of the epic genre like Lawrence of Arabia, these are films that everyone planning to watch Nolan’s *The Odyssey *on July 17th ought to watch before the big day. These aren’t necessarily the greatest epic classics, but rather the ones that feel most akin to what *The Odyssey *will have to offer.
Studio Ghibli are the masters of anime filmmaking, and even one of the greatest animation studios in the history of cinema. They produced some of the greatest animated classics of the late 20th century during the ’80s and ’90s, and their work during that decade culminated with Hayao Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke, one of the most perfectly directed and most perfectly written animated movies of all time.
It’s some of the greatest work by one of the greatest filmmakers in the history of animation, a traditional hero’s journey tale (much in the same vein as The Odyssey) full of beautiful visuals, wonderful world-building, and fascinating characters. It’s an epic coming-of-age with some of the most mature tonal and thematic work of Miyazaki’s career, making it a must-see for anime cinema fans.
The ’90s were an incredible time for Hollywood cinema, and 1994 in particular was one of the greatest years for the medium in its entire history. It would be difficult to settle on what the definitive best movie of 1994 was, but as far as the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences was concerned, that title had to go to the year’s Best Picture winner, Robert Zemeckis’ Forrest Gump.
On the surface, this nostalgic ’90s classic may not exactly seem like a particularly similar movie to The Odyssey, but the way it plays around with the tropes and structure of the genre itself makes it **essential viewing for anyone preparing to watch any other epic. Masterfully weaving together decades of American history and the deeply personal, intimate journey of a wonderfully complex protagonist, it may not be particularly politically complex, but it sure is irresistibly entertaining.
**Sergio Leone **was the father of Spaghetti Westerns, easily one of the most important and groundbreaking filmmakers that the Western genre as a whole ever saw. After a certain other film, Leone had decided to retire from Westerns; but when Paramount offered him a budget and **Henry Fonda **to make another one, he couldn’t resist. The result ended up being one of the greatest Westerns in history, Once Upon a Time in the West.
In more ways than one, the Western genre as a whole is one greatly inspired by traditional tales of mythical heroism like The Odyssey, and *Once Upon a Time in the West *is no exception. With one of the greatest ensemble casts, some of the most stunning production values, and one of the best endings of any Western, this is the telling of a mythic journey of vengeance and homecoming as important to cinematic Westerns as *The Odyssey *was to Greek epics.
As downright flawless as *Once Upon a Time in the West *may be, it’s an almost universally agreed-upon fact that not only is ***The Good, the Bad and the Ugly ***Sergio Leone’s greatest film, it’s also perhaps the greatest Western in movie history. Bolstered by Clint Eastwood, Eli Wallach, and **Lee Van Cleef **at the very top of their games, this story about the futility of war and the corrupting nature of greed is proof of just how great Western epics can be.
It’s one of the best fast-paced classics ever, packed with unforgettable set pieces and fueled by the most iconic score of Ennio Morricone’s entire catalog. It’s visually striking, perfectly directed, and wonderfully written, the kind of epic masterpiece that makes people go, “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.” Hopefully, Nolan will prove that statement wrong come July 17th.
Your answers have pointed to one Oscar Best Picture winner above all others. This is the film that was made for the way your mind works.
You are drawn to films that operate on multiple levels simultaneously — that begin in one genre and quietly, brilliantly migrate into another. Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite is a film about class, desire, and the architecture of inequality that manages to be darkly funny, deeply suspenseful, and genuinely shocking across a single extraordinary running time. Your instinct is for cinema that hides its true intentions until the moment it’s ready to reveal them. Parasite is exactly that — a film that rewards close attention and punishes assumptions, right up to its devastating final image.
You want it all — and this film gives you all of it. The Daniels’ Everything Everywhere All at Once is one of the most maximalist films ever made: action comedy, multiverse sci-fi, family drama, existential crisis, and a genuinely earned emotional core that sneaks up on you amid the chaos. You are someone who responds to ambition, who doesn’t want cinema to choose between being entertaining and being meaningful. This film refuses that choice entirely. It is overwhelming by design, and its overwhelming nature is precisely the point — because the feeling of being crushed by infinite possibility is exactly what it’s about.
You are drawn to cinema on a grand scale — films that understand history not as a backdrop but as a force, and that place their characters inside that force and watch what happens. Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer is a film about the terrifying gap between what we can do and what we should do, told with the full weight of one of the most consequential moments in human history behind it. You want your films to feel important without feeling self-important — to earn their ambition through sheer craft and the gravity of their subject. Oppenheimer does exactly that. It is enormous, complicated, and refuses easy comfort.
You are drawn to films that foreground their own construction — that make the how of the filmmaking part of the what it’s about. Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Birdman, shot to appear as a single continuous take, is cinema examining itself through the cracked mirror of a fading actor’s ego. You respond to formal daring, to the feeling that a film is doing something that probably shouldn’t be possible. Michael Keaton’s performance and Emmanuel Lubezki’s restless camera create something genuinely unlike anything else — a film that is simultaneously about creativity, relevance, self-destruction, and the impossibility of ever truly knowing if your work means anything at all.
You are drawn to cinema that trusts silence, that refuses to explain itself, and that treats dread as a form of meaning. The Coen Brothers’ No Country for Old Men is a film about the arrival of a new kind of evil — implacable, arbitrary, and utterly indifferent to the moral frameworks we use to make sense of the world. It is one of the most formally controlled films ever made, and its controlled restraint is what makes it so terrifying. You want your films to haunt you, not comfort you. You are not interested in resolution if resolution would be dishonest. No Country for Old Men is honest in a way that most cinema never dares to be.
Even though his career hasn’t been without its fair share of lows, the highs of Francis Ford Coppola’s career would be more than enough to cement *anyone *as one of the greatest filmmakers in history. As proof that he’s one of the best to ever do it, one needn’t look much further than the Vietnam War masterpiece Apocalypse Now, one of the most universally acclaimed war movies of all time.
The movie’s production was infamously hellish throughout, but the result is an example of everything that a great war epic should aim to be. Loosely based on Joseph Conrad’s 1899 novella Heart of Darkness, *Apocalypse Now *has a semi-episodic nature, elements of subtle yet potent surrealism, and a level of psychological intensity that would all feel right at home in any adaptation of The Odyssey. In fact, **John Milius **(who co-wrote the film with Coppola) very intentionally employed Homer’s epic as a structural template for Apocalypse Now.
When it comes to classic Japanese auteurs, it’s not all Akira Kurosawa. Those looking to check out other artists to expand their knowledge of classic Japanese cinema ought to dive into the work of Masaki Kobayashi, and there’s no place to start more appropriate than one of the greatest movie trilogies in history, the ***Human Condition ***series. Designed as a single film divided into three chapters, it’s also one of the heaviest movie trilogies of all time.
However, as daunting as the trilogy’s nearly 10-hour runtime may be, and as emotionally draining as the entire experience may prove, it’s still a must-see for all fans of war epics. Much like The Odyssey, it’s a monumental, episodic journey of tremendous emotional impact led by a fascinatingly layered protagonist. Based on Junpei Gomikawa’s semi-autobiographical novel and inspired by Kobayashi’s own wartime experiences, it’s a trilogy of war epics that everyone should watch before heading to the theater to watch Christopher Nolan’s latest.
Regarded by many as the single greatest filmmaker in history, **Stanley Kubrick **is at the very least one of the best in history. After all, only a true master of the craft would be able to make a masterpiece of the caliber of 2001: A Space Odyssey, probably the best science fiction film in history. It’s one of those sci-fi classics that are still perfect, one of the most stunning space operas in the genre’s history.
It’s also an epic like no other, complete with some of the most wonderful visuals, the best music, and most engrossing narratives of any cinematic epic in history. Kubrick being such a tremendous influence on Nolan, one can notice elements of *2001 *in several of the director’s genre movies. Very likely, *The Odyssey *will be no exception.
*Lawrence of Arabia *is the work of David Lean, arguably the single most important name in the history of cinematic epics—and this is arguably his magnum opus. Seeing as it’s perhaps the greatest epic in movie history, this World War I biopic centered on the polarizing T. E. Lawrence, played by Peter O’Toole, should be considered essential viewing for pretty much anyone who would call themselves a fan of the Seventh Art.
Lean knows just how complex and morally grey of a protagonist he’s working with here, and as such, the nearly four-hour runtime ensures that the director never trivializes the figure of Lawrence or treats him with any less nuance than he deserves. That’s what makes this one of the best epic war movies in history: Balancing the tremendous scale of its war narrative with a surprisingly intimate character study, it teaches a lot of lessons about the epic genre that *The Odyssey *would be wise to learn from.
***Gladiator ***is one of the most perfectly-directed epic movies in history, arguably the final epic masterpiece of the 20th century. Directed by **Ridley Scott **at the top of his game and starring a powerhouse Russell Crowe, it’s one of the most iconic outings of the sword-and-sandal genre for a reason. Emotionally stirring, action-packed, and technically perfect, it’s one of the best movies that Scott has ever directed.
“Nostos” is a theme used in ancient Greek literature best exemplified by The Odyssey, representing an epic hero tasked with returning home. There is no Ancient Rome cinematic epic that better embodies the “nostos” theme than Gladiator, which finds tremendous amounts of emotion and complexity even in such a classic and often-repeated story structure.
Many great epic movies inspired by Greek mythology and folklore were made throughout the 20th century, but none of them were ever as iconic or even remotely as entertaining as Don Chaffey’s Jason and the Argonauts. Perhaps best-known for its groundbreaking visual effects, which relied largely on Ray Harryhousen’s stop-motion animation, this is one of the best sword-and-sorcery movies of all time for a wide variety of other reasons as well.
Where to even start singing the praises of Jason and the Argonauts? For one, though definitely dated, its visuals have aged like fine wine in terms of charm and entertainment value. Its story, too, based on the ancient Greek epic poem that clearly also inspired Homer’s Odyssey, is one of the most entertaining of any fantasy epic of its time. This wonderful blend of B-picture and A-picture elements has aged wonderfully as one of the most fun examples of all of its genres.
Jason And The Argonauts
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Beverley Cross, Jan Read