Elon Musk has promised that before the year is out, his AI tool Grok Imagine will produce a full-length film of Homer’s Odyssey that is, in his words, “historically accurate and true to the art of Homer”.
The claim, posted on X in July alongside a three-minute AI-generated scene, arrived days after Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster version reached cinemas worldwide – a film Musk has spent months attacking for being “woke”.
Set aside, for a moment, that The Odyssey is a 2,800-year-old poem that includes a witch who turns men into pigs and a one-eyed giant shepherd, to ask a simpler question: accurate to what?
There are no photographs of ancient Ithaca. There is no footage of the Trojan shore. What we have is stories, poems, pottery and paint, and, more recently, a century of films that imagined the ancient world for us. That is the only material a generative model has ever seen.
So when Grok Imagine – the AI image generator developed by Musk’s xAI company – renders antiquity, it is not reaching back into history. It is reaching for the centre of every image already made about it – the most probable ancient warrior, assembled from Gladiator, Troy and 300 and a hundred years of sword-and-sandal cinema. The result will not look like the past. It will look like other films about the past, averaged out by AI.
And here is the part that should give anyone bandying about the word “accurate” pause. A machine that reaches for the most probable image does not correct our clichés about antiquity. It concentrates them. Ask it for a classical statue and it will hand you gleaming white marble, because that is how we picture the ancient world.
Except the ancient world did not look like that. Greek and Roman sculpture was painted in strong colours – the pristine white marble in our heads is a later idealisation, not the thing itself. An AI model trained on our pictures of the past will reproduce our mistakes about the past – confidently – and give them back to us labelled as truth. That is the opposite of accuracy. It is our own error, upscaled.
The real problem
This is why “historically accurate” is not really a script problem. It is an image problem. Accuracy on screen is delivered through light, lens, skin, texture, cloth and grain – the hundred deliberate decisions a director of photography agonises over in every frame.
A machine makes those decisions too, but it makes them by consensus, by defaulting to the most probable choice. Research on generative AI has already found that it makes individual work feel more creative while making the whole field more similar, everything drifting toward the same middle. The same regression to the mean that flattens prose will flatten the picture. You do not get the accurate past, and you do not get the thrilling lie. You get the average, and the average is where nothing memorable lives.
Which brings me to escapism, and to a tension in my own work I am happy to admit. I research and teach sustainable, naturalistic image-making – stripping away artifice, working with available light. But I have also argued, including in a TED talk, that escapism matters, and that realism is often its enemy.
Take everything excessive and dangerous out of James Bond and you remove the reason anyone watches. Nolan’s Odyssey is not trying to be accurate. It is trying to be exciting – and excitement is a decision. It is a point of view, a piece of the filmmaker put deliberately on the screen.
Heightening is a choice about what to exaggerate, and a choice is exactly what an average cannot make. A machine that lives at the mean can smooth, but it cannot heighten. So the “exciting” AI blockbuster arrives with the one quality excitement depends on already removed.
There is a reason the AI clips flooding our feeds feel flavourless even when they are technically clean. It is not that the tools are young and will improve. It is that averaging is what they do. Watch a real performer and you are watching a human being decide – take a risk, make a choice you might not have made – in front of you.
That is the thing we actually go to films for, and it is precisely the thing an average has no way to contain. Whether audiences keep noticing is the open question. The appetite to make this work is real, because it is cheap. The appetite to watch it is the thing nobody has tested yet. And the unease many people already feel watching AI slop and struggling to say why it repels them, is not naivety. It is a correct response to work that no one made decisions about.
So what is the endgame? Not, I think, simply proving it can be done. If you only wanted to prove a technical point you would not reach for the word accurate – least of all for a poem, where accuracy means nothing. Reaching for accurate is reaching for authority: the right to say what is true.
Musk is a man who publicly objected to the casting of a black actor as Helen of Troy and a trans actor as a Greek warrior. A man who operates within a wider political project about who gets to tell the national story, now claiming that a tool he owns can portray the past as it truly was. Follow that to its end. If his machine decides what is historically accurate, then he decides what the past looked like. And whoever is trusted to author the past is well placed to author the future.
So watch this one with scepticism – not because AI cannot make images, it plainly can, but because “historically accurate” is a claim about truth. And truth is exactly what a machine trained on the average of everything cannot give you. It is also exactly, in this case, what its owner would most like to define.
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