Oppenheimer

In Sidney Lumet’s 12 Angry Men, objective source of good Henry Fonda manages to steadily talk a bunch of other white dudes out of making a decision that will catastrophically destroy the life of a young man they don’t personally know or care about. The last hold out, Juror #3, is the angriest and most reckless of the bunch; his reasons for a ‘guilty’ vote boil down almost entirely to his own personal circumstances and feelings that are extrinsic from the case. Whether due to the conviction of his argument or his piercing blue eyes, Henry Fonda is successful in steering the jury away from the point of no return, helping avert disaster both for the young man’s future and perhaps even the futures of other minority youths living in 1950s America. Had the stakes been significantly raised, Henry Fonda’s character been a physicist with alleged communist leanings and Juror #3, an insecure ‘self-made man’ eager to rise politically through the power of spite, 12 Angry Men’s resolution might’ve been as explosive as that of Christopher Nolan’s new film, Oppenheimer.

Misleadingly described as “the pulse-pounding paradox of the enigmatic man who must risk destroying the world in order to save it,” Oppenheimer is instead a beautifully considered film about the dangers and ramifications of pride where influential decision-making is concerned. Written and directed by Nolan and shot on 65mm IMAX film by cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema, the biopic of sorts follows ‘Father of the Atomic Bomb’ Julius Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy at his career best) as he grapples with the competitive nature of physics races, the near zero chances of an unlimited chain reaction that would set the world on fire, and losing control of the monster he creates. 

“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” [image courtesy Universal Pictures]

The film uses the Manhattan Project in Los Alamos, 1945 (and the history altering Trinity test) as its centrepiece but it covers quite a bit more than life before and after the bomb. Based on Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin’s book American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer, we open on a quote about the sticky fingered fire god’s punishment for bringing such an enlightening and damaging gift to humanity:

“Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. For this he was chained to a rock and tortured for eternity.”

The punishment (or praise) for creating such a terribly useful weapon is a little more complex in the human world. Oppenheimer unpacks the treatment of its main character by those who appointed him, knowing full well that they’d throw him to the wolves of McCarthyism once he’d served his usefulness. It also raises larger questions about the relationship between greatness and sin, and the inherent tragedy of being a person who possesses it. Touted by the director as “the most important person who ever lived,” Oppenheimer treats its subject so, covering as many decades as prosthetics would allow and poking around in the more intimate pockets of his life, like his relationships with women, peers, mentors and those who privately declared themselves his foes. But the most important relationship the film deals with is the one he has with himself, an idea intensely portrayed by Murphy’s phenomenal central performance and physicality.

Having watched a few archival interviews with J. Robert Oppenheimer, I’m struck by the accuracy of Murphy’s slight frame and gaunt face; he looks as though he’s being eaten away by ghosts even before the success of the Trinity test and only seems to shrink further into himself after the events at Hiroshima and Nagasaki are relayed. That Nolan waited so long to cast his long-time collaborator in a leading role is perhaps testament to his own particular power in recognising greatness and its correct application. It’s a decision that surely contributed to the exhaustiveness and quality of the supporting cast, among whom there are several standouts.

The Father and his Creation. [image courtesy Universal Pictures]

First and foremost is Emily Blunt as Kitty Oppenheimer, whose ferocity simmers away in the background, only flaring up here and there in her deliciously terrible mothering and refusal to let her husband get away with acting like a victim. The careful escalation of Kitty from the beginning of the film through to the end is very well-handled and results in the audience becoming quite enamoured with her ability to handle it (whatever ‘it’ may be in each situation). 

Of equal impressiveness is Robert Downey Jr. as Lewis Strauss, the man who believed that a secret conversation between Oppenheimer and Albert Einstein probably revolved around him. Downey Jr. is as far from his Marvel alter ego as he will ever be and the delight shows in his complete immersion in the role. Strauss represents everything wrong with men who can’t process their feelings of inadequacy and act out of spite in an attempt to rectify that fact. He too wears his troubles beneath his sleeves as a different sin eats away at his frame, rendering him a slight figure trying to wield more power than he can lift. The interplay between Murphy, Downey Jr., Matt Damon’s General Leslie Groves and many other talented performers in the cast is as exciting as the explosive event everyone came to see, whose singularity might disappoint those hoping for multiple demonstrations of fire power but who will instead have to settle for steamy political intrigue and the wonder of the scientific process.

The event in question is not the climax of the film but somewhere in the centre of Oppenheimer’s 3-hour runtime and it’s just as well; its impact takes some time to properly come down from. Tension builds and ticks away as the first ever atomic bomb is hoisted up a rickety tower and the people below suddenly look like insects who might not know a storm is coming. It’s an odd comparison to make, but I felt the way I did seeing Hereditary for the first time in cinemas: cold, thrilled and very afraid. When Alex instinctively lent over and covered my legs with his jacket, I knew I was experiencing something that movie audiences don’t get very often throughout their lifetimes. Had I any prior reservations about Nolan’s depiction of the Trinity test not delivering the same power that David Lynch’s did in episode 8 of Twin Peaks: The Return, I shed them almost immediately.

Lewis “It’s Strohss, not Strowss!” Strauss [image courtesy Universal Pictures]

I wouldn’t identify as a Nolan ride or die - I’m yet to come out of Interstellar without feeling numb and I’ve had no desire to revisit Tenet - but there are films of his that I greatly admire (Dunkirk, Inception, Memento, the first two Batmans) and even one that I love (The Prestige). His command of the non-linear is evident again here in the way the film is structured (out of time, order and colour) and helps to mimic the haunted mind of a man jumping back and forth, trying to figure out where in his working out he went wrong. His dedication to craft and using analogue practices as heavily as possible is hugely important for modern cinema and it’s impossible to deny the impact of his contributions. The black and white sequences here were only possible via the creation of IMAX black and white analogue photography, which didn’t exist prior to this film. I can only imagine what Oppenheimer looks like in its IMAX 70mm projected format; thankfully, come September, I can stop imagining.

Where Nolan knocks it out of the park, for me at least, is when he focuses on his subjects and their interpersonal dynamics. It’s why The Prestige works so well on both an emotional and story level and perhaps why it wasn’t dismissed as a timey-wimey onion movie like Inception and Tenet sometimes were. After too many trips out into the beyond, Nolan plants his feet firmly on the ground and achieves the extraordinary. With Oppenheimer, he has delivered an understated, gripping portrait of something bigger than the man behind the bomb and tapped into the terrible potential within all of us. "By unleashing atomic power, he gave us the power to destroy ourselves that we never had before, and that changes the human equation," said Nolan in an interview for the film. If there was a time before we gained that power, it doesn’t matter now.

And with the light came a great darkness. [image courtesy Universal Pictures]

Thematically rich, stunningly executed and expertly brought to life by its cast, Oppenheimer is a triumph in filmmaking that should be experienced on the biggest screen possible, surrounded by strangers you find mildly annoying. If you don’t like watching men engaging in discourse or you’d prefer to see the nukes do the talking, then this film isn’t for you. But if you’re trying to make sense of anxiety-inducing headlines keyword stuffed with terms like ‘nuclear war’, then this film is perhaps the most important thing you’ll see on a screen in 2023.

Verdict:

Laura ☆☆☆☆½ (it’s possible that a half star will be added after our IMAX viewing in September)

Alex   ☆☆☆☆☆

Oppenheimer is in cinemas now and if you can attend an IMAX session, you should. Here’s our closest option.