In an early scene of Oppenheimer, General Leslie Groves (Matt Damon) expresses skepticism for J. Robert Oppenheimer's (Cillian Murphy) ambitions for how just how widely-praised his plans for creating an atomic bomb could be. "You really think they'll give you a Nobel Prize for inventing a bomb?" Groves inquires. Oppenheimer then unleashes a wry smile and remarks "Alfred Nobel invented the stick of dynamite."
It's an amusing bit of dialogue illuminating the heavily opposing personalities of these two characters. However, it's also a moment that illustrates the dark undercurrent of Oppenheimer. This is a movie about how we, as humans love to destroy. We champion scientific invention or concepts like "Manifest Destiny" in the name of destroying others. The more blood that gets spilled on the ground, the greater the roaring cheers from the crowd. Even the Nobel Prize is derived from a man who gave humanity the tools to blow any object it sets its eyes on. Oppenheimer is a film about the creation of atomic bombs, but it is not a celebration of those tools. Writer/director Christopher Nolan's latest epic is a cautionary tale about the grisly legacies we leave behind and the horrific ways one human being can become "the most important man who ever lived."
Oppenheimer tells its story in a non-linear fashion, with the tale darting back and forth between various periods of Oppenheimer's life. The primary focus is on both the creation of the atomic bombs themselves and the 1954 Oppenheimer security hearings, though we also see even earlier events like Oppenheimer's time at school and his initial romantic interactions with Katherine Oppenheimer (Emily Blunt) and Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh). There's a comprehensiveness to Nolan's storytelling approach here, but Oppenheimer does not get bogged down in trying to cram too much into one movie. On the contrary, there's a verve to the proceedings, an electric energy initially built on the "ticking clock" of needing to build an atomic bomb before the Germans do. Gradually (and, in some ways, right from the start), though, the propulsive tension of Oppenheimer emanates from more complicated places. Events like the surrendering of Germany in World War II or the malicious behavior of American politicians toward domestic Communists were to tilt the origin of Oppenheimer's eerie atmosphere inward. In trying to stop monsters, J. Robert Oppenheimer gradually begins to realize he's participating in something monstrous.
Among the many virtues of Oppenheimer's non-linear storytelling is how many of these morally complicated elements are there from the get-go. Rather than being treated as a total "surprise" in the third act, the darker underbelly of American society is apparent from the get-go in elements like the struggles of California college scientists to unionize or the aggressive behavior of interrogator Roger Robb (Jason Clarke). Meanwhile, Oppenheimer's tendency to defer to consensus ("many scientists are saying...") rather than taking a concrete stand in the face of hard questions is also clear as a bell in these flashback sequences. This avoidance of specific political labels or intense confrontations is a peculiar trait in his everyday social interactions, but it eventually becomes a grave shortcoming when Oppenheimer has to grapple with the consequences of his atomic bombs. Within Oppenheimer, the past and present are fascinatingly intertwined. Darting between various points in time allows the viewer to appreciate how the tiniest bits of throwaway human behavior can end up having such profound consequences long-term.
Thematically, Oppenheimer grapples with plenty of weighty ideas, while the presentation of the titular physician's life (complete with impressionistic cutaways depicting particles and atoms reacting to one another) presents those concepts in an appropriately distinctive manner. As grand as the film's intellectual ambitions, though, are its visuals. The grave momentousness of the creation of atomic weaponry is matched in scale by staggering imagery captured by Nolan and cinematographer Hoyte von Hoytema. I was especially taken by the subtly evocative color palette of the feature, with the monochromatic segments making such an impact because they're divorced from the discernible yet grounded colors (like the brown sandy deserts of Los Alamos, New Mexico) that dominate other parts of Oppenheimer. The innately woeful tone of those hearings sequences is exacerbated by draining out all the color present in scenes where Oppenheimer believes he's making fruitful history. Meanwhile, the 70mm IMAX version of Oppenheimer especially allows one to appreciate the endless intricacies behind this project's camerawork. You haven't seen Cillian Murphy until you've seen him five stories tall!
Nolan has made tons of movies that are expansive in scope before. It's his reputation at this point, the last man standing who dares to use $100+ million budgets on original concepts with spectacle to spare. What's fascinating about Oppenheimer, though, is how its visuals, much like the overall atmosphere of the production, feel at once consistent with Nolan's prior creative efforts and excitingly detached from them. This filmmaker has worked with IMAX cameras and massive ensemble casts before, but rarely has he juggled so many starkly different visual qualities (like shifting from black-and-white to color) or dabbled in so much heightened imagery. The latter quality is especially potent in late scenes depicting the horrors of nuclear warfare intruding on the mind of Oppenheimer. He imagines himself stepping into corpses or running across sobbing families while he attempts to give a supposedly "triumphant" speech. It's a harrowing sequence technically divorced from reality (it's set in Oppenheimer's mind) yet reinforcing the inescapable horrors of this man's actions.
Meanwhile, the way sound just cuts off completely in the most intense moments of Oppenheimer (a way of emphasizing the haunting atmosphere of the feature) is also a bold new measure in Nolan's filmmaking techniques used to incredibly interesting effect. Even the director's embrace of explicit on-screen sexuality is intriguingly realized, with eroticism drained out of these depictions of physical intimacy to capture how often Oppenheimer seems divorced from other human beings. You've never seen a Christopher Nolan movie quite like Oppenheimer, even as it clutches his best qualities as a director and takes them to new heights. It's a remarkable project brought to life through daring filmmaking and a terrific ensemble cast, the latter detail anchored by an unforgettable turn from Cillian Murphy. You won't be able to take your eyes off his rendering of this physician who forever changed the world...but not necessarily for the better.
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