Movies & TV Nautilus Nautilus Premiere Is Engaging, But Can It Do Justice to Captain Nemo? Of the many changes to Jules Verne’s story, the role of its central character prompts the biggest questions. By Tim Ford | Published on June 30, 2025 Comment 0 Share New Share We are awash in nostalgia. There is a veritable tide of works made new again; intellectual properties entering the public domain, adaptations and re-imaginings of classics, and sequels tugging at our childhood heartstrings. Amidst the multitude of re-treads that make up so much of the cultural lexicon on the big and the small screen, it seems inevitable that there would surface yet another take on one of science fiction’s seminal and iconic adventure novels: Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. The new iteration is named Nautilus, after the submarine ship that served as the main setting in the original story, here realized in full steampunk glory, with stunning sets and a great production design. Steampunk—a nostalgic subgenre of science fiction—leans into the Victorian era as inspiration for aesthetic and plot. Most stories turn on “what if” alternate histories; timelines involving some means by which the sun truly never set on the British Empire, where steam-powered technology continues to reign supreme. It experienced a surge in popularity in the aughts, taking conventions by storm, even generating fully-fledged clubs and societies. Some fans stay strong to this day, but for the most part the genre has subsided from its dizzying heights. This has the effect of making Nautilus feel oddly dated from the outset. Had it come out 15 years ago, it would likely have been an instant hit among the top-hatted, be-monocled lovers of the genre. As it is, it still has a degree of resonance from its premise: fighting the man. Nautilus takes a prequel approach to Nemo, the captain of the submarine from Jules Verne’s original novel, imagining him as a troubled but brilliant young Indian man enslaved by the British East India Company during their brutal reign of his country. In the pilot episode, “Anahata,” Nemo leads a slave revolt to steal the Nautilus out from the Company, who has been building it in secret as a weapon of domination against China. From there, Nemo offers promises of sunken treasure to keep his motley crew—composed of some fellow conspirators, as well as some other labourers who were, depending on your point of view, in the wrong or right place at the wrong or right time—to escape. The crew are as diverse as the territories conquered by the British East India Company. They include Kai, a Māori man, Suyin, a Chinese woman, Boniface, from Zanzibar (modern-day Tanzania), Turan, a poet from Iraq, Jiacomo, a mysterious white man who speaks a language none understand, and Indian labourers Ranbir and Jagadish. They are led in part by Nemo, and also by Benoit, a French inventor who is chiefly responsible for designing the titular Nautilus. They are soon joined by three passengers—or, more accurately, hostages—who were travelling on a Company ship that Nemo sinks by ramming it with his submarine: Blaster, a powder boy, Humility Lucas, a wealthy woman en route to be married, and Humility’s maid/bodyguard, Loti.  Literal diversity notwithstanding, the crew are efficiently and uniquely defined with a few key lines and scenes in the pilot episode, quickly set up for various roles in the vessel. Boniface, for instance, assumes the role of first mate with a natural leadership ability and a cool-headed approach to dealing with Nemo’s mercurial temper. Kai, meanwhile, takes on the position of quartermaster and chef with a skilled hand at tallying items up in a record book – and masterfully wielding a meat cleaver both to cook and to ward off would-be food thieves. What is unfortunate is that Nemo is comparatively poorly etched. He spends a significant amount of time brooding, and being rather unreasonable and hostile towards his crew. Actor Shazad Latif, who has some experience in Steampunkery—and brooding—from his earlier turn on Penny Dreadful as a re-imagined Dr. Jekyll, is nevertheless well-cast in the cryptic role. He brings a stoic intensity that makes a cypher on paper into someone who feels compelling to watch, although the writing keeps him at arm’s length from the audience. Latif also deftly captures the rebellious spirit of the Nemo from the books, where Nemo proclaimed, after rescuing an Indian pearldiver: “That Indian, sir, is an inhabitant of an oppressed country; and I am still, and shall be, to my last breath, one of them!” That spirit is carried on in Nautilus’ Nemo, fiercely ready to fight the Company. But where the premise falters for Nemo is twofold: First, there is a degree of “show, don’t tell” at play here. When one of Nemo’s fellow rebels is tragically killed during the escape, he ruthlessly instructs his remaining sailors to execute some captive British soldiers. Benoit interjects, saying “this isn’t you.” It’s an unearned moment, because at this point, so early in the show, the audience really has no way of knowing if Benoit is right. Is it Nemo, to fight the Company to the point of murder? So far, it seems like it is. Secondly, that fight, while a good way of injecting momentum and purpose into the show, does chip away at the literary foundations of Nemo as a character. In Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, the Nautilus is Nemo’s invention, and built to his specifications. Here, Benoit is mainly responsible for the design, and the Company is responsible for the construction. Benoit nevertheless repeatedly insists that without Nemo, “there would be none of this,” and the engine design was his. It’s another moment of telling instead of showing, undercut all the more by the pilot’s closing cliffhanger, which involves some mechanical chicanery in the Nautlius’ guts—and which Nemo is apparently incapable of resolving himself. If we consider that as a prequel, Nautilus is a kind of superhero origin story, it can be forgiven for not immediately giving us the stern, confident, commanding Nemo from Verne’s book. But by making the origin of Nemo’s powers an invention not of his own, as it is in the book, and rather the main tool of Benoit, a colonial man (albeit an altruistic one), and funded by colonial powers, Nautilus undercuts Nemo’s agency. It also undercuts his focus by hiding his motivations and backstory, and being too quick to make Nemo seem villainous. First, by his threat to execute prisoners, and second, by his ramming of a Company ship and hostage-taking. There is a tonal judgement in these story beats, with side characters looking on in a mix of horror and dismay at Nemo as ominous music plays, that reads like the show is more concerned about Nemo being vengeful than with exploring the conditions and backstory that pushed him here. The crew, by comparison, feels lively and interesting, while the captain skulks in his cabin and snarls commands, betraying the trust of his companions almost immediately. This all being said, nine more episodes make up the season run, and if the series can better centre Nemo as a character and as the main driving force of the action, Nautilus can be set up for interesting adventures with a crew of engaging supporting players and a strong purpose. Nemo just needs to be given ample space to show what makes him special as a character—and a hero. Disney+ cancelled Nautilus before it even learned to swim, and AMC rescued it from the depths of obscurity so that US audiences could take a dip in it. If it is a catch worth keeping remains to be seen, but if nothing else, it deserves a chance to be weighed.[end-mark] The post <i>Nautilus</i> Premiere Is Engaging, But Can It Do Justice to Captain Nemo? appeared first on Reactor.