Musical Parallels Between The Odyssey and OBWAT

            When we watched O Brother, Where Art Thou? in class, I was struck by the music present throughout the movie. Everyone seems to sing constantly, whether it's the rhythmic chant used by the KKK or the Soggy Bottom Boys' hit single "Man of Constant Sorrow." It's almost like watching a Broadway musical, but with authentic music. In O Brother, Where Art Thou?, folk music fills the role that epic storytelling does in The Odyssey; namely, a fundamental cultural meme that simultaneously drives the plot forward and grounds the story in a unique historical context.

            The Odyssey was originally written and performed by Greek bards, and the tradition of oral storytelling was firmly ingrained in their culture. The phrase "tell me the truth" is uttered by almost every character in the book and is the response is always a lengthy story. These stories are sometimes long enough to include nested sub-stories, which at one point are three levels deep. One of Odysseus' greatest assets is his fantastic storytelling ability, and bards themselves appear frequently to deliver epic poetry. All of this evidence points to the fact that storytelling was a fundamental component of Greek culture, as well as a plot device that supplied Telemachus and Odysseus with the information they needed to succeed in their quest.

            Modern America doesn't have this sort of oral tradition. People still tell stories to each other, of course, but the sweeping, poetic epics of Homeric Greece are no longer commonplace. However, folk music can be considered to take its place. America is a nation of immigrants, and the influx of styles from around the world has given our country an unusually rich tradition of folk music. O Brother, Where Art Thou? draws on this to great effect, firmly rooting the setting in early 20^th century America with the opening song, “Big Rock Candy Mountain.” This song, popularized in the 1930s, references the hobos in the first scene as well as the idealistic dreams of “the treasure” sought by Ulysses’ companions. As the plot moves forward, different songs evoke different moods within the same setting. The equivalents of the Sirens and Lotus-Eaters sing tempting folk songs like “Down to the River to Pray,” and the gravediggers at the end sing “Lonesome Valley” to provide an eerily inevitable quality to the climax of the movie. Most notably, Ulysses sings “Man of Constant Sorrow,” which becomes a hit and eventually redeems him and his company. In addition to playing a pivotal role in the plot, “Man of Constant Sorrow” appears to directly reference the plot of The Odyssey. It tells of a man forced to wander away from his home, and the name even means something similar to Odysseus, the “Man of Pain.” By taking authentic folk music that closely mirrors and reinforces the plot of the movie, I think that the Coen brothers manage to insert elements of American culture as comfortable and familiar to us as the epic storytelling of The Odyssey was to the Greeks of Homer’s time into O Brother, Where Art Thou?.

On Epithets and Kennings

Homer's Odyssey is a remarkably complex narrative. The story has remained popular for so long largely because of this: the myriad interweaving storylines and curious tensions between fate and free will give readers much material with which to speculate. We've spent a lot of time in class debating the morality of the mortals and gods, and wondered whether or not the suitors deserve the impressively brutal slaughter they receive in the climax. However, I don't want to focus on any of this in my blog post tonight. I'd rather talk about the poem's usage of language.

Since The Odyssey was originally performed orally, it has a very distinct structure and sound to it. Certain passages are repeated to place emphasis on similar events as well as to aid memory. For example, when Telemachus sends Penelope to her room in Book 21, he uses almost the exact same words as he does in Book 1.

"So, mother, go back to your quarters. Tend to your own tasks, the distaff and the loom, and keep the women working hard as well. As for giving orders, men will see to that, but I most of all: I hold the reins of power in this house. (Fagles 1.409-414, emphasis added)"

"So, mother, go back to your quarters. Tend to your own tasks, the distaff and the loom, and keep the women working hard as well. As for the bow now, men will see to that, but I most of all: I hold the reins of power in this house. (Fagles 21.389-394, emphasis added)"

Penelope's reaction is identical in both situations. By having the little episode from the start of the book recur at the end, Homer demonstrates how far Telemachus has come. In Book 1, his directive was almost comical and we took it as evidence that he hadn't quite learned how to act yet. In Book 21, the same statement is backed up by his growth as a character and is thus taken far more seriously. This sort of repetition is recurrent in The Odyssey, and it creates an relaxing rhythm that lulls the listeners (or readers, recently) to sweet somnolence.

For me at least, the most curious aspect of The Odyssey's repetition was the extensive usage of epithets for the characters. Odysseus alone is referred to as "man of twists and turns," "master mariner," "godlike," "crafty," "embattled," "wise," and "storm-tossed." Athena always has flashing eyes, Ino has exceptionally beautiful ankles, Telemachus is calm and cool-headed, and Eumaeus is the loyal swineherd. When characters have numerous epithets, they still revolve around a couple of central themes. For example, Odysseus' epithets pretty much all refer to his guile, war-crafting abilities, or suffering. In a work with such a huge number of characters, major and minor, epithets make it easier for both the bard and audience to keep everything straight. In addition, they allow Homer to fit his poetic meter (dactylic hexameter, if you were wondering) more easily by essentially adding syllables to the character's names. Even though our translation is not metered, the epithets add a sense of rhythm that drives the poem forward ceaselessly.

Interestingly enough, these quirks of Greek oral tradition are not unique to their culture. Old Norse oral poetry follows many of the same conventions, albeit in a slightly different fashion. Rather than ubiquitous epithets, many words have kennings, circumlocutious and idiomatic phrases whose meanings are well understood by the audience. For example, fire could be called "bane of wood," and a sword might be referenced with the phrases "icicle of blood," "wound-hoe," or "leek of battle." These kennings are used frequently in Skaldic poetry (Skalds were the Viking equivalents of bards, reciting poetry in the courts of various kings) to fit the alliterative verse of their works. As time went on, kennings were also used to avoid saying the true names of certain evil things, as in The Lord of the Rings when the Balrog is repeatedly called "Durin's bane." Kennings were often repeated between poems, simplifying memorization for the performing skald much as epithets simplified memorization for Greek bards. Although our records of the Greek traditions are over a thousand years older than our records of the Norse, it's interesting to see how similar their methods of storytelling were despite the lack of communication between the two cultures.

PS: The structure of Old Norse poetry particularly fascinates me because it was based around alliteration rather than rhyming. If you'd like to hear an example of this and aren't satisfied by reading my pathetic attempt at alliteration at the end of the third paragraph aloud, the video below contains a modern composition that's pretty good. Enjoy! :)
 
https://youtu.be/zuFsBtQCfPY?t=3m48s