Cillian Murphy (center) in the title role of Nolan's Oppenheimer.
Christopher Nolan’s new big-screen biopic Oppenheimer is something of a circle, like the eye, like the bomb, like the world. It’s an ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail, where all progress eventually leads to tragedy of seismic proportions.
I saw Oppenheimer at BowTie Cinemas on 86 Temple St. at 4 p.m. on Tuesday. It was one week exactly after I had watched Greta Gerwig’s Barbie, which has vied with Oppenheimer at the box office all month for the position of the summer.
When I saw Barbie, the theater was almost packed, but Oppenheimer was attended by a mere fifteen to twenty moviegoers. Then again, this was a very different beast. If Barbie questions, in the lilting voice of Billie Eilish, “What was I made for,” then Oppenheimer asks, “What can I make, and for what?”
“How can this man who saw so much be so blind,” asks Lewis Strauss, the chairman of the Atomic Energy Commision, played with ever-so-slightly smirking poise by Robert Downey Jr. Oppenheimer concerns itself with many types of sight. The foresight it takes to dream up a scientific project on the scale of the atom bomb. The hindsight that questions whether it was a great American achievement, or a catastrophe for all humanity. The insight that J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) himself is often accused of possessing, that allows him to helm the military project that defines our age. Even the circles that haunt the film in almost every frame are reminiscent of giant, ever-watching eyes. But do they see, or are they blinded by the explosion? Did Oppenheimer understand what he was creating, and if so, how could he permit himself to create it at all?
These are the questions that Oppenheimer poses and attempts to answer. Oppenheimer follows two hearings, in a structure reminiscent of an Aaron Sorkin creation, although lacking some of his razor-sharp wit. One hearing is designed to question Oppenheimer’s security clearances, and one is the Senate confirmation hearing for Strauss. The story unfolds retrospectively, in non-linear and sometimes confusing timelines, as Oppenheimer is recruited by US Army General Leslie Groves (Matt Damon) to head the Manhattan Project and build an atomic bomb in an attempt to win WWII.
The refrain of the first act, “Who’d want to testify their whole life?” reverberates like a chemical combustion throughout the movie. The answer, it appears, is Robert Oppenheimer, and the reason, the viewer comes to learn, is someone like him: a man beset with guilt yet unable to back down from his convictions. He seeks to explain, if not to justify, and the film follows his lead, laying out the facts of the case without attempting to manipulate the audience’s perception. Oppenheimer works in theory, which as Strauss claims, “cannot affect lives,” except it did. Possibly over 200,000 lives. Oppenheimer encourages viewers not to forget a single one.
Oppenheimer is joined in his endeavor to end the war by a collection of scientists and engineers, and their individual contributions are respected by the film even as it proves difficult upon occasion to keep track of all the neck-tied characters — were the side parts in this movie cast by choosing actors who looked like they’d been born in their suits? Most notably, there’s Albert Einstein himself, played with warmth and gravitas by Tom Conti, who shows up every half hour or so to offer some sage advice to the intrepid protagonist. He’s also accompanied by his fiery wife Kitty (Emily Blunt) and troubled lover Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh, bringing life to a woman who deserves a movie of her own). Both ladies, however, end up playing other women to Oppenheimer’s main passion: the atomic bomb.
At the moment when the bomb finally exploded, the entire theater seemed to hold its breath. It was an instant of long and total silence, where the only thing that felt real was the labored breathing of the characters on screen. Nolan allowed the viewer to become caught up in the anticipation of creation, just like his characters, hoping despite themselves that the years of labor paid off. Then he sent them crashing back to reality, all that excitement evaporating into horror. Oppenheimer uses sound exquisitely, with a soundtrack composed by Ludwig Göransson keeping the tension on high for the entire duration of the exhaustive three hour run time. There was no escape from the frenetic energy of the film, and the audience was forced to watch with eyes glued to the screen as the train derailed in slow motion.
Yet the film was not without its moments of reprieve. At times, it is surprisingly funny, although the humor is often so downplayed as to be barely noticeable. In an early meeting between the two narrators, Strauss claims to be a “self-made man.” “I can relate to that,” says Oppenheimer. “My father was one.” Murphy plays arrogance well, the quiet confidence of a genius who knows exactly what he is. But Oppenheimer’s self-assurance does not endear him to Strauss, and that very confidence may eventually cause his downfall in more ways than one.
Oppenheimer is a story of twos. Two men, Strauss and Oppenheimer, their lives intersecting even when they are diametrically opposed. Two bombs, the atom and the helium. And two sides, us and them. This was the mentality that got America through WWII, and then through the Cold War and McCarthy’s assault on Communism. This is the mentality that led to the creation of the bomb. Was it worth it, seeing everything, as Strauss does (as evidenced by the visual tones of his perspective) in black and white? Or is there a middle ground, a world we all inhabit, a compromise to unite us all as one humanity?
The us-vs-them mentality can only lead to hatred and destruction. Such is the story that Oppenheimer portrays. In one of the film’s most chilling moments, a government official leads a discussion to decide where to drop the bomb in Japan. “I’ve taken Kyoto off the list,” he says, citing the cultural significance of the city. But then he adds, “Also, my wife and I honeymooned there.” Is this the standard for seeing people as people? How do we justify those 200,000 deaths as casualties, knowing that those were real, living human beings on the other side of the globe?
As I left Oppenheimer, a man handed me a flier for a petition to ban nuclear weapons. At the top of the sheet of paper was a quote from the movie, in large, black letters: “‘Mr. President, I feel I have blood on my hands,’ — J. Robert Oppenheimer.” If this is the impact of Nolan’s film, then it will have been an endeavor worthwhile on multiple levels. Perhaps we can prove that creation, both scientific and artistic, can be a source for peace, instead of merely destruction.
Oppenheimer was an interesting story and probably needs to be viewed more than once to understand better. Oppenheimer was guilt ridden over the power of what he helped create but basically felt it was a necessary act to end the war. Is this movie anti war? Not really.
Oppenheimer also does not seem to be a very likable character and often gets swallowed up in the hearings. Also, beware of using movies to get your history. Movies are entertainment and elements are often changed to create the drama the creators seek.