So, about that new film The Odyssey, and the wrath it’s incurred because they cast a Black woman as Helen of Troy: what’s the fuss about? Has someone misrepresented the truth, to someone else’s disadvantage?

The Wikipedia article about the movie actually has a section on “Responses to historical inaccuracies”. Now, this was a woman who came out of an egg, because her mother – who was already pregnant with twins at the time – had sex with a swan. And the swan turned out to be a god who had shape-shifted into a swan. The god in question was well known for his ubiquitous sexual tastes and was into feathers that month.

Now, in a context like that, I think when someone chooses skin colour as the place where they decide to suspend disbelief – and get angry about it – it may be worth our while asking why they’re so bothered.

Let’s keep everything in perspective. Harvard’s renowned Professor Gregory Nagy can explain in detail not only that there was no “true version” written down in Homer’s The Odyssey, but also that there wasn’t even really a “Homer”. You can watch a highly entertaining and informative interview about that by the erudite Johnathan Bi.

My point is, when Christopher Nolan casts a Black woman as Helen of Troy, he’s not actually trying to convince you of some supposed “truth” about Helen, nor is he trying to “erase” some truth about ancient Greeks. Nor is he trying to persuade you that Kenyan actor Lupita Nyong’o, or Black women in general, represent some ideal of female beauty, let alone that ancient Greeks thought so. He’s just retelling a story that’s been related in various versions over millennia. He’s making a movie, not making up a myth. You don’t need to be the goddess of wisdom to understand that.

Of course, myths have been used to knowingly create impressions and narratives, or to spread particular versions of events – and often for political purposes. For example, an ancient Greek tribe might make up some eponymous hero and claim to be descended from him. They might use their supposed ancestry to reinforce a claim to some territory they didn’t actually own at the time their supposed founding hero lived. Indeed, Hellen is a case in point.

That’s Hellen, not Helen. For those less familiar with ancient Greek stories and heroes, let me explain.

The names spelt in English as Helen and Hellen look pretty much the same in English, but are not pronounced the same in Greek, and they refer to entirely different people. One was a queen, reputedly the most beautiful woman in the world. That’s Helen (of Troy). Let’s call her Helénë (pronounced Hel-EN-ee; in Ancient Greek, Ἑλένη). The other was a warrior-king and supposedly the ancestor of the Greek people. He’s the one with the two Ls and, actually, a long E sound at the end; so let’s spell it Héllen (pronounced HEL-een; in Ancient Greek Ἕλλην). Héllen was the eponymous ancestor of the Héllenës (HELL-ee-nes).

If you’re wondering who the hell are the Héllenës, they’re what English people call Greeks. As well as the name of a mythical king, Héllen is also the word for a native of Hellás. Hellás (Ἑλλάς, Hel-ASS) is the Ancient Greek name of the country which in English is called Greece.

Incidentally, the female name Helénë, as in Helen of Troy, doesn’t appear to be connected to the name of the country.

But I’m at risk of digressing. I wanted to offer some reflection on myth-making, and how an ancient story might be relevant to today’s world. (Well, everyone else seems to be doing that at the moment.)

Here’s what I’m thinking: as human society continues to stomp ever more recklessly around the Tartarean depths of this age of disinformation, it’s probably worth reminding ourselves that it’s a good idea to check our facts when forming opinions. And, no less important, it’s good to be careful what we allow ourselves to get angry about.

And also, how the manufacture of outrage serves to distract us from things we perhaps ought to pay attention to.

So when someone gets angry about the casting of a Black woman in a film about a three-thousand-year-old story that few people actually believe anyway, it may be worth our while considering whether that person has a history of promoting white supremacism. And maybe they’re just turning a topical issue into an opportunity to propagandise.

I mean, this isn’t really about whether a woman born in the thirteenth century BCE was or wasn’t Black. It’s about what kind of world the angry person in question wants to create now and for the future, and how they frame reality to shove us in that direction.

Also, when national leaders invent pretexts for waging war – and that’s a form of myth-making that’s certainly alive and kicking three thousand years after Troy was burned down – there’s clearly a moral for us in the story of the Trojan war.

I mean, you don’t start a massive war on another continent because your sister-in-law runs off with her illicit beau. So why did Agamemnon really do that? Why was he so committed to that cause that he was prepared to sacrifice his own teenage daughter? I mean literally sacrifice her, on an actual altar? What were his real motivations? And why did so many people go along with what he was doing? Including Odysseus, who was actually rather clever?

To me, when someone says Helen of Troy caused the Trojan war, it sounds no more convincing than when some king in America says he has a right to invade Greenland because [insert favourite choice of fictitious arguments here]. Of course that particular ambitious king hasn’t actioned this specific threat yet, but I wouldn’t put it past him. And he’s certainly using lies and distortions and misrepresentations – and the framing of modern mythologies – to help shape our world.

So to me, the real moral of the story of the Trojan war – and its spinoffs, such as tales of perilous journeys and eventful homecomings – is that humans as a whole could do much better when it comes to scrutinising the pretexts framed by warlike leaders, and become a lot more proficient at not getting disproportionately angry.

And as for Christopher Nolan’s splendid movie, we can of course just enjoy the story, the writing, the performances, the spectacle, the art.

Now if you want the real story…

It genuinely is a myth that Helen’s elopement with Paris caused the Trojan war. It was much more complicated than that. Sure, there was a goddess who reacted badly when she wasn’t invited to a party, and there was a sort of divine beauty contest. And indeed bribes were offered. I made my own humble contribution to the history of all this in the pages of Troían Godfather.

I don’t think I’ll be spoiling the plot of Troían Godfather if I say the real Helénë was not Black. In fact she looked a lot like Vivien Leigh, only with her father’s storm-grey eyes. But it is true that she came out of an egg, after her mother made love with a swan.

Was Helénë actually the most beautiful woman in the world? Is there really some kind of objective standard by which that can be measured?

Well, I don’t think I’ll be spoiling the plot if I tell you what Aphrodítë said about the matter.

The love-goddess did indeed visit Páris – or Aléxandros as he was known at the time. And yes, the matter of bribes and beauty contests was discussed. But it didn’t happen the way it’s usually been related.

What Aphrodítë actually said was, “If I were to offer you the love of the most beautiful woman on earth, would that sway you?”

Páris did have a bit of a romantic streak. And anyway he reckoned he could have far more fun fooling around with women than he could with things like being a great warrior-king or governing cities. (Those were bribes he’d already been offered that night.) So he replied, “In all honesty, lady, that would sway me more than anything any other goddess could offer me.”

He inwardly kicked himself for letting that out. Being open like that was no way to negotiate. He just hadn’t been able to not say it.

Anyway, Aphrodítë smiled. “You’d be wasting a bribe. When you meet the right woman, she’ll love you of her own accord. And she will definitely be the most beautiful woman you’ll ever meet.”

“Really?”

“Let me put it this way: nobody would ever be able to persuade you otherwise.”

It’s quite a touching story, I think. As well as being a story of mortal and divine ambition, vengeance, incorrigible stupidity, mass organised violence, miscellaneous skulduggery and the working of curses. Generally speaking, what has been called theological noir.

And you can read it in Troían Godfather: The truth behind the greatest mob story ever told.

Nerdy footnotes for the uninitiated

• Greek language officially dropped its Hs long ago. Note the “rough breathing mark” before the Ancient Greek Ἑ in Ἑλλάς, which makes it Hel-ASS. In Modern Greek the country’s called either Ελλάς (El-ASS), which is a formal or poetic variant, often seen in official or ceremonial contexts; or Ελλάδα (El-ATH-a), which is the standard term used in everyday speech and writing.
• The English words Greece and Greek come from Latin. The Romans called Greece Graecia, and called the Greeks the Graeci (singular Graeca/Graecus). They got this from the name of the Γραικοί (which in Ancient Greek is pronounced something like Grai-KOY, or in Modern Greek Ghhree-KOY). The Graikoí were a Héllenic tribe. The Romans encountered that tribe early on, and then applied that name to all the other Héllenës too, lumping them all together as “Greeks”.
• I referred to the burning down of Troy, or Troía as I’d spell it. I mean the place archaeologists usually call Troy VIIa, which was destroyed around 1200 BCE.