Oppenheimer (2023) — Film Review
There’s a rumor that has persisted in the lead-up to Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer that a real atomic bomb was used to recreate the explosion. Of course, this rumor is not true, and Nolan shut it down, though he did seem somewhat flattered at the idea of fans’ awareness of his commitment to authenticity. Watching the film, the most stunning image isn’t the destruction caused by the hydrogen bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki; in fact, those are never shown. Instead, Nolan and his crew use 65mm film, and black and white analog IMAX photography, to capture the tortured landscape of the human face. Especially that of J Robert Oppenheimer.
Many historical films look at history in broad strokes, as if reading from the pages of a history book. While this film is based on the 2005 book American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer, it doesn’t tell itself observationally. Oppenheimer gets close to its subject, following a man’s life from his days as a Cambridge student in the 20s, his work as a professor at Berkeley, California, in the 30s, his work on the Manhattan Project in the 40s, and his ousting in the 50s amidst the Red Scare. From start to finish, the weight of the film rests on Cillian Murphy’s shoulders, or should I say, his steel blue eyes and haunted expression. This is the face of a man with great intellect and ambition, and then it becomes the face of a man who doesn’t know who he is anymore.
In addition to the faces, there are scattered images throughout the film; some are sparks flying through the air, then growing into bright orange engulfing flames. These aren’t just snippets of the bombs to come; these are fuses ignited in Oppenheimer’s early years that burn away more until they combust later. His life was a series of mistakes, some made out of lust, others made out of pride, and then the most consequential made out of ambition, all of which come together in a chain reaction until the whole thing finally blows up.
Many of the facets that come together are the people involved in Oppenheimer’s life, and the film, fortunately, has an immense cast of actors to play these parts. One of the most crucial we meet early on is Oppenheimer’s love interest Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh), a communist he comes to have sex with during his time at Berkeley. They have on-and-off flings through the years, but it’s the political affiliation that becomes a point of interest far down the road when Oppenheimer is taken into government hearing to revoke his security clearance following wild accusations of his involvement in the communist party (this, of course, happens during the era of McCarthyism). Much of the tension rallied against Oppenheimer comes from his nemesis Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.), and this plotline is where the black-and-white portion is implemented.
Oppenheimer’s story is told in crystal clear color as he develops his theories alongside other brilliant minds, becomes a husband to his wife Kitty (Emily Blunt), and works in Los Alamos, New Mexico developing the hydrogen bomb. The film consists primarily of smart, dramatic dialogue. Heavy conversations occur about the impending global threats from Germany and Japan and the optimism for a better future. The film does not reveal whether or not those threats are genuine because it isn’t about the bombs. The film is a portrait of humanity in all its hubris and weaknesses, leading to decisions they make that drastically alter the direction of history, leaving them to ponder what it is they’ve done.
Oppenheimer himself is the nucleus in this picture, and the people in his life orbit around him, causing important characteristics he comes to embody. The program at San Alamos is directed by Leslie Groves (Matt Damon), a general who wants Oppenheimer’s involvement and is determined to see it through despite the global consequences. Blunt’s performance as Kitty is largely subdued; much of the film is her sitting behind her husband in a confining government office as he’s questioned, but when she gets her moments to stand up, she’s a fiery spirit. Pugh’s performance as Tatlock is sensual and comes to diminish Oppenheimer’s public appearance as he’s labeled an adulterer. But her presence carries much pain and vulnerability, as demonstrated in a miraculous scene in which she and Oppenheimer sit naked together; no secrets to hide, completely exposed.
Then there are all the scientists, one of which is Albert Einstein (Tom Conti). Though his appearances are brief, there’s a peculiar mystery about his character. Strauss recalls a memory at the beginning of the film where Oppenheimer and Einstein meet by a pond and discuss something, to which Einstein is clearly distressed. We don’t know what was said in this conversation, but the weight of it hovers clandestinely over the film.
The performances across the board are great, except maybe Benny Safdie, who feels slightly out of place. Downey, in particular, shines bright in a dramatic turn not seen from him since his early career in the 90s. His portion of the film occupies a world of jealousy and hatred as he constantly tries to take down Oppenheimer. He frequently tries to convince others he is also a genius on par with Oppenheimer. It has been a while since Downey has had a role where he could show off his acting chops, seeing how he got very comfortable in that Iron-Man suit, but with this, he reminds us once again of what he’s capable of as an actor.
The stand-out performance, of course, belongs to Murphy, who finally gets a starring role after years of being a supporting player in Nolan’s films. Undoubtedly, Murphy gives a career-best performance in his turn as the tortured genius. With this performance, it’s not just a matter of capturing Oppenheimer’s guilty conscience but also his enthusiasm leading into the project that slowly faded away once he fully realized the enormity of what he’d done. Murphy has to play Oppenheimer the rambunctious student, the professor, the sexaholic, the scientist, the husband, and the man who lost his peace of mind. Murphy embodies the role with much bravura; he is the foundation upon which the film is built, and he successfully bears this weight.
For Nolan, this film, perhaps, marks a turning point in his career. Nolan has made a career of being a highly talented filmmaker and an ostentatious conceptualist but also an emotionally cold storyteller. Stories in his films have been rather skeletal, while characters have felt like chess pieces, leaving the concepts in his worlds to do much of the heavy lifting. With Oppenheimer, Nolan fully dedicates his direction to the significance of history and presenting human beings in all their complications. Instead of relying on the grandiose concepts of world-building, Nolan instead focuses his ideas inward, creating the greatest character ensemble of his career that explores feelings and guilt within the human soul. That said, when he gets into the technical achievements of sights and sounds, it’s also amazing to behold — not just for the spectacle but also the way Nolan subverts expectations, creating a ghostly aura in the process.
A harrowing look into a man’s life on a scale like this is quite an achievement in today’s system, and Nolan may be one of the very few who can achieve it. More than spectacle and dramatic weight, Oppenheimer finds lyricism in the little details that make up a man’s entire existence. For someone like Oppenheimer, he innovated in ways only a rare few could, and he paid the price for it with his consciousness. There’s a feeling that he never looked at life the same way for the remainder of his days. For him, all he could do was stare into wattle ripples and think about his actions that caused ripples all over the world.