There’s a reason why Christopher Nolan keeps suggesting that you see his The Odyssey on the largest screen possible—ideally, in IMAX. If nothing else, the film is a spectacle—a technical triumph that brings all the magic, bloodshed, and mythology of Homer’s epic to life.

Ever wondered what it was like inside the Trojan Horse? Wonder no more. Ever asked yourself what it felt like for the soldiers of Ithaca to take on a Cyclops? It was apparently terrifying (and a little sad). We see it all—the depths of Hades, the deadly allure of the Sirens, and, in one remarkable scene, the witch Circe (Samantha Morton) turning Odysseus’ army into a pack of grunting hogs.

We have the technology. And we also have a master of action who can choreograph all of these elaborate set pieces with intensity, clarity, and awe.

I confess I’ve never read The Odyssey (I did my thesis on James Joyce’s Ulysses, if that counts (it doesn’t)). But we’ve all learned the story through cultural osmosis. We know one of its major themes is a primal desire for home, which happens to be an obsession in many Nolan films—from Interstellar to Inception to Dunkirk. Here, Nolan also grapples with the Golden Rule—in the film it’s called Zeus’ Law. The idea is to be kind to strangers, lest they be gods in disguise.

But are the gods even real? In the film, they are depicted as real—although Athena (Zendaya) only comes to Odysseus (Matt Damon) as an apparition. But the Cyclops—massive, with a one enormous eye and a nose twisted to its side to make him look like a giant Picasso painting—is real. As is the righteous magic of Circe, the omniscience of the denizens of the underworld (here called Hades), the power of goddesses, and so on.

But Nolan also leaves room for the idea that gods were conjured to explain the horrors and mysteries of nature. When Odysseus’ ship is wracked with deadly storms and waves, his crew believes it’s because he has angered Poseidon. There’s an angry god to explain every natural disaster, every tragedy that befalls man.

So, the plot: Odysseus leads an army into Troy, knowing the mission is possibly futile, if not doomed completely. Meanwhile, his devoted wife, Penelope (Anne Hathaway), waits for him for 20 years, fending off dozens of would-be suitors, who stay in her castle like it’s a gilded Holiday Inn. Odysseus’ son, Telemachus (Tom Holland), was just a baby when Odysseus left for war—he doesn’t know his father, but he idolizes him all the same. He hears wonderful stories of Odysseus’ decency, bravery, and honor, from not just his mother, but from his father’s loyal servant, the now blind and enfeebled Eumaeus (John Leguizamo). Like many blind men of mythology, Eumaeus can “see” what other men can’t. There is also Odysseus’ bedraggled, loyal hunting dog, half dead, waiting for his master to come home. (Nolan is laying it on a little thick here, but who am I to grumble over a cute dog.)

Of the would-be suitors, the most attractive—and malevolent—is Antinous (Robert Pattinson), who sees young Telemachus as a threat to the throne and plots to kill him.

The film toggles back and forth between life with devoted Penelope and the many trials of Odysseus and his crew. Penelope insists she will pick a suitor once she finishes the funeral shroud she has been weaving for years. However, every night, she unravels the work of that day. When he’s old enough, Telemachus travels to Sparta to learn something—anything—about the whereabouts of his father, a trip that will imperil both him and his mother.

By now, the war is essentially over. Odysseus is presumed dead, but in fact, has been a captive, of sorts, of the goddess Calypso (Charlize Theron), who healed his wounds and has been feeding him lotus flower to cloud his memory for seven long years.

Is it spoiler to say that Odysseus eventually makes his way home? (This is less a spoiler alert and more of a “know your classic literature” alert.) He disguises himself as a beggar—and we get a little Good Will Hunting action. Never underestimate Matt Damon, especially if you think he’s beneath you.

Damon, I should say, is an excellent Odysseus. The 55-year-old actor got jacked for the role and he seems powerful, even as an old man with a white beard wandering around in a tattered toga on Calypso’s island. Importantly, he manages to convey the wisdom, kindness, and practicality of Odysseus. Like all great leaders, he must make difficult choices. Sometimes a few men need to be sacrificed to save the rest.

Most of the acting is solid, with Hathaway able to do some enjoyable scenery chomping as Penelope, ever imperious and regal but nearly driven mad with grief. In their few scenes together, she and the mustache-twirling Pattinson get to fight over who can devour the scenery more greedily. Go off, you two. Holland is fine as Telemachus—he brings an earnestness and sturdy physicality to the role. He’s likeable, as ever, but just not that interesting? (Or maybe that’s just compared to the histrionics of Hathaway and Pattinson.)

Other standouts in the cast include Leguizamo, Morton—the film really comes to life once her Circe appears—and Himesh Patel as Odysseus’ faithful (to a point) deputy.

Again, I’m not able to point out discrepancies between the film and the original text, but there is one element to Nolan’s Odyssey that feels very modern, very much him: Odysseus’ guilt over the destruction of Troy, which mirrors Oppenheimer’s guilt when he sees what his atom bomb has wrought. I’m not sure Odysseus was that in touch with his feelings back in 1200 BCE.

Still, it’s Nolan’s party and he can do what he wants with it. He’s succeeded in many ways—bringing a classic epic poem to life, modernizing it, but certainly not in a thoughtless way, and utilizing the full range of his prodigious cinematic toolkit. Did I love it? Not quite. I prefer more a little more character development and a little less spectacle. But it’s going to be a lot of people’s favorite film (okay, mostly dudes). And yeah, it’s more than good enough to earn that honor.

It’s a testimony, I suppose, to how far films have come in recent years that James Mangold’s Ford v Ferrari feels so retro. There was a time, not too long ago, that many American films looked like this: celebrations of fatherhood, male bonding, fast cars, and American gumption, made up of casts that were 98 percent male and 100 percent white. And, of course, that’s perfectly appropriate for this film, which is set in the world of car manufacturing and car racing in the mid 1960s. Not a lot of female or black executives at the old Ford Motor Company back then. But still…I was sort of thinking we had put these sorts of stories on the back burner, at least for a while, now that we’ve finally realized that there are so many other stories to tell. Guess not.

(I’m preemptively responding to an anticipated reaction to my review: Why didn’t you register this same complaint about Marty’s The Irishman, which also featured a predominantly white, predominantly male cast and you raved about? Because Scorsese’s film wasn’t celebratory or flag-waving. It was a serious, rigorous examination of male fragility and ego and an uncompromising work of art. Those will always be allowed.)

But let’s put aside my objection to Ford v Ferrari’s unapologetic squareness. There’s still lots to enjoy about the film, which provides us with two wonderful lead performances, exciting speed races, and car executives wearing some of the most beautifully tailored suits this side of Mad Men. (Come to mama, Lee Iacocca.)

Matt Damon plays Carroll Shelby, a celebrated race car driver who, thanks to a bum ticker, has to give up what he loves. He busies himself building and selling high-end sports cars, until he’s approached by two Ford execs—the aforementioned Iacocca (distractingly sexy Jon Bernthal), who’s a bit of a visionary, and the corporate toadie Leo Beebe (Josh Lucas), a bit of an empty suit—who have a proposition for him: Build a racecar that can beat Ferrari’s and do it at the celebrated Le Mans 24 hour auto endurance race. Oh, and do it in less than a year. Shelby agrees and immediately recruits the best racer he knows—the hot-headed, bull-headed, hard-headed (all the heads you can think of) British-American Ken Miles (Christian Bale). Miles does not play well with others and doesn’t want to be a pawn for any corporation but Shelby convinces him, prematurely it turns out, it’s going to be all about the race—no suits involved.

Some background on the Ford v. Ferrari feud. Ford’s sales were flagging and it was Iacocca, in fact, who suggested that Ford get into the sports car racing business, to change the company’s rep as stodgy and bolster flagging sales. At first, they attempted to buy Ferrari, only to discover were actually being played by old man Enzo (Remo Girone), who was just using Ford as leverage to raise the price on a Fiat merger. Enzo also insulted chairman Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts), implying he wasn’t the man his father was. Needless to say, it touched a nerve. Now beating Ferrari wasn’t just business, it was personal.

The film’s prevailing philosophy is that the corporatization of things screws stuff up, that it’s good old-fashioned individuality and ingenuity that is a true recipe for success. (Hard to argue with that.) But Ford execs, particularly Beebe, who clashed with Miles the minute he met him, keep getting in the way, suggesting different drivers and advising caution where reckless nerve is required. Shelby is a brash, cocky, charming good ol’ boy himself—a captain of the universe type. But compared to Miles, he’s a model citizen. So it’s his job to keep Miles and Beebe apart. (At one point, this literally involves locking Beebe in an office.)

Miles is a loveable character, despite his anger management issues. He’s a good father to a son who idolizes him (Noah Jupe), and a devoted, if unreliable, husband to his wife, Mollie (Caitriona Balfe). (The film does make some almost touchingly obvious attempts to give Mollie a personality beyond just “put-upon wife”—she gets one big tantrum scene. But then we quickly get back to the business of boys being boys.) Miles is also a preternaturally gifted race car driver and the film takes great pleasure in showing him behind the wheel of the car, cursing at himself, razzing his competitors, and anticipating every possible obstacle, wreck, and curve, always with eagle-eyed focus. Bales is great in the role; it’s fun to see him cut loose.

Ford vs. Ferrari is, more than anything else, a male love story—as these two talented and stubborn men fight, create fast cars, fight some more, and man-hug. As I put it on Twitter, it’s the “daddest film that ever dadded.” (It really should’ve been released on Father’s Day, not Thanksgiving.) But it’s entertaining, exciting, and slick, and give us a chance to watch two great, but very different, actors (one pure charm; one full method) do their thing. USA! USA!