The first images of Christopher Nolan’s psychodrama biopic of J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) are rain hitting and splashing a pond. Much like how a chain reaction begins once a free neutron hits other neutrons, that leads to a cascading effect of free energy that triggers inside nuclear fission. Thus, we get a weapon of mass destruction. Oppenheimer sees the pond, and the reaction that follows will soon lead to him becoming the father of the atomic bomb.
Yet, that gigantic historical event only encompasses a small fraction of Oppenheimer’s life, as Nolan is more interested in being inside the mind of such a madman and less so in the spectacle that is released into the world because of his actions. Make no mistake—the marketing may lead you to believe Christopher Nolan is making a thrilling ticking clock towards the inevitable moment of the Trinity test that produces the world’s first atomic bomb test. But Nolan realizes that is still a chapter in Oppenheimer’s long, complicated life where causality and relationships with people are intertwined in a not-so-glorious fashion.
Adapted by Nolan from the Pulitzer-Prize-winning auto-biography American Prometheus, Oppenheimer may be viewed as the father of the atomic bomb, but in Nolan’s 3-hour monumental epic, he is also the cause of his downfall—both in the history books and his moral compass. The film has the trappings of a traditional man-is-great biopic, but Nolan’s maturity isn’t interested in celebrating the man, but piercing through the cold hard eyes (brought beautifully to the 70MM IMAX) by Cillian Murphy in what is the greatest performance of his career, surrounded by Nolan’s masterful orchestration of dazzling image-making and brilliant intersection editing by Jennifer Lame that manages to weave a tapestry of characters, scenes, emotions, depth, and a pitch-perfect, all-encompassing score by Ludwig Göransson. Nolan has likened his film to that of Oliver Stone’s manic conspiracy epic, JFK (1991). Both films are thick, complex encyclopedic texts about historical malpractices that have traumatized humanity and men spending hours in rooms and meetings playing out theories and scenarios on their respective canvases.
Split into two parts—” fission” and “fusion”—and like many great Nolan efforts, it unfolds in a non-linear fashion: fission follows Oppenheimer as a hazy, theory-obsessed 20-something studying quantum physics and interested in concepts and ideas led by colleagues & friends participating in Communist get-togethers and having on-and-off relationships with Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh), and eventually marrying another Communist party goer, Katherine (Emily Blunt), all while grappling of the world-domineering cloud of WWII and the race that ensues the completion and usage of a bomb. A bomb that no one knows the capabilities of its destruction; the momentum propels nations to use it for world peace or domination.
Soon he’s enlisted by General Leslie Groves (Matt Damon), and they begin a 3-year, two-billion dollar enterprise set in the middle of the New Mexico desert with nearly thousands of scientists and soldiers brought together under the direction of Oppenheimer. Here we’re introduced to a cavalcade of character actors and recognizable stars that would be difficult to list. Some of these recognizable standouts include Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, a fellow physicist warning Oppenheimer of his Communist ties, and Benny Safdie as Edward Teller, the father of the hydrogen bomb.
This portion is intercut with fusion, portrayed in IMAX black-and-white—taking place post-WWII after the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings—that chronicles Oppenheimer’s dire attempts to limit nuclear proliferation while being scrutinized by informal yet damning hearings by government officials chipping away at both Oppeheimer’s psyche and personal ties to Communism, all for the gratification of Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.), a member of the Atomic Energy Commission, and once an ally of Oppenheimer, but now an adversary, as he hopes to publicly humiliate Oppenheimer as a traitor undeserving of his security clearance and mission to be confirmed a member of Eisenhower’s administration.
This segment strips away the glory and allure of which Oppenheimer occupies. The creation and the result of “world peace” now become a question of his judgment and placement in a country that called upon him for his service. Here we showcase Emily Blunt’s short but powerful moments of anger and rage against a system that seems to swiftly betray the man they revered, as she implores him to fight against Strauss and his cohorts hellbent on destroying their lives as traitors. These happen in small room interrogations led by Jason Clarke’s Roger Robb that have a more procedural examination of Oppenheimer that is more of a means for Stauss’ hunger for power.
Like a polar covalent bond, Oppenheimer and Strauss are simply two atoms bonded together through an unequal attraction to electrons, as they’re both tied in the atomic age with contrasting viewpoints of how to deal with the disturbing thought of nuclear usage between nations. These two narrative throughlines almost callback to Nolan’s Memento (2000), in how the color and black-and-white complement and contrast each other—one is more personal to the character’s experience while one is an objective examination of its subject. Oppenheimer is center-stage in the fission narrative, as the world’s attention and everyone’s discernment revolves around how his mind interprets the creation of his bomb. Fusion portrays him as a tiny ant under the world’s magnifying glass.
Lame’s editing is exemplary and tireless; she masterfully weds Oppenheimer’s memories and perception of time to the history of events resulting from his action is very much reminiscent of the hyper-stylized editing rampant in Stone’s JFK. The ensemble is large and expansive, and one would find themselves taken aback by the cast of actors in small spurts and moments. Nolan and Lame never get bogged down in labyrinths of conversations and meetings, as it’s all centered on Oppenheimer’s gravitational pull. Time has always been a constant punctuation in Nolan’s filmography, and here, time is cutting to different periods in seconds that are jarring but later mesh together seamlessly that is done to excavate Oppenheimer’s history of his connections to women, scientists and his theorizing that culminates to the eventual Trinity sequence.
The sequence, however slight, is bold in its subtlety. For what is the first nuclear explosion on earth, the scene is told through images and sounds that would be imperceptible to the human eye. It plays out like a fever dream that Terrence Malick would portray, all done with emphasized colors and framing segments of a larger entity. Soon Nolan transitions the film from a portrait of an artist to a picture of a scared America scapegoating its own Prometheus. (The film opens with a quote regarding the tragic tale of Prometheus, depicting Oppenheimer as a god that brought humanity its destruction and tortured for eternity.)
Cillian Murphy’s incredible performance occupies nearly every frame of Nolan’s dense epic. Always a frequent collaborator with Nolan, Murphy gets the golden opportunity to have a leading role, and unlike many biopics revolving around great men, Murphy’s performance is internal. His ambiguity is his strength, allowing Oppenheimer to feel ethereal, like the fragrance of smoldering chemicals or explosives that surround Oppenheimer, yet his eyes are what strikes the viewer. His focused, haunted gaze peering from his gaunt face is so captivating and marvelous, Murphy never spells out Oppenheiumer’s moral conflictions—the unease radiates off his face and his swagger, as he paces room-to-room-meeting with people, assuring them of their concerns but maintaining a composure of steadiness. It’s easy to see why Nolan and cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (another Nolan collaborator from Dunkirk (2017) and Tenet (2020)) opted for filming in IMAX 70 MM, as they’re interested in capturing the intimate close-ups of Oppenheimer. We get to be part of the quiet, personal moments of his dilemma and opaque proceedings that allow the viewer to be immersed in the magnitude of Oppenheimer of history and Nolan’s epic drama.
Downey Jr. also delivers one of the best performances of his career. Shackled by the chains of the MCU, he gives one of his most petty, vindictive, craven characters. Strauss approaches Oppenheimer with a sense of companionship in taking pride in America’s nuclear deterrent. The chasm in ideologies soon rifts as Oppenheimer is more concerned with ensuring world peace and openness in an age where the Cold War looms over the McCarthy-domineering landscape spearheaded by fearful, paranoid-induced men like Strauss. Downey Jr. takes hold of this section, and it’s a mesmerizing performance illustrating the political stratosphere rooted in the personal pettiness of being upstaged by a self-effacing Oppenheimer. Strauss himself is an isolationist, shielding the world from America’s secrets, so much so that he can’t stand a private conversation between EInstein and Oppenheimer, as his sense of preservation is threatened less so by communism or Soviet Russia, but more by a colleague like Oppenheimer proclamation unilateral frankness in nuclear secrets. It’s a commanding role that only an actor of Downey’s stature can execute to supreme spitefulness.
Accompanied by one of the best scores of the year, Göransson’s score is an epic in itself. It’s propulsive without feeling overbearing, alluding to doom and overwhelming power without detracting from the images. It’s magnificent in enhancing every droll meeting and decision-making with a foreboding sense of dread that is to come. There are no calm breaks before the storm; the storm is upon everyone, and Göransson’s score is a profound achievement that beckons to Jonny Greenwood’s pulsating omnipresent score in There Will Be Blood (2007) or the sinister undertones present in The Power of the Dog (2021).
A far cry from the intellectualized blockbusters Nolan previously crafted, such as Inception (2010) or Interstellar (2014)—Oppenheimer (2023) is a $100 million epic operating on a much different astral plane, one that focuses on a man while long dead. Their spirit lingers in every armed conflict. Nolan’s biopic is not about celebrating nor damning a man of such significance but breaking the unearthed psyche of a great mind that will continue to shoulder the fate of the world. In a scene of unabashed realization, Oppenheimer reckons with President Truman that fact that he may have blood on his hands after the bombings of Hiroshima & Nagasaki, to which Truman pointedly responds that he may have created the bomb, but he didn’t authorize the drop.
He’s snapped out of his inner turbulence—the theoretical impossible bomb that had a near-zero chance of blowing up the word is out of his hands. “Theory can only take you so far,” regales a character to Oppenheimer’s calculations. And by that measure, it’s true: theory can only go so far, and the chain reaction that begins from a paper full of calculations transpires into one of the most haunting final images put to screen: an anguished, troubled Oppenheimer slowly computing his birth to the new world, and the weight his legacy will have lends to one of Murphy’s most unnerving close-up in the entire film.
In one of Nolan’s most incredibly-crafted sequences, Nolan catapults Oppenheimer to infamy. Students and lecture halls cheer him as a star athlete, speechifying the notion of perceived peace and Japan’s defeat. Oppenheimer glimpses at his subconscious turning on him and transforming his podium of accomplishment into that of horror. The droplets of water in the beginning finally reverberate into an eruptive sequence heightening the sound and fury of a thousand suns. Nolan examines his doomed genius in the way Malick views the destruction of mother nature in The Thin Red Line (1998), that of a delicate touch of empathy, wonder, and sorrow. Nolan has crafted a masterpiece in history-bending filmmaking that demonstrates his capabilities as a showman of a filmmaker to interweave art and commerce into a profound statement of exciting scientific discovery and the tragic implications of bringing forth a tool no one can ever use. The tools Nolan has utilized throughout his career come to precise fruition in his most staggering completion as a filmmaker.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Images via Universal Pictures
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