‘Oppenheimer’ Review: Christopher Nolan Looks To History With His Magnum Opus
Cillian Murphy in Oppenheimer. Courtesy of Universal Pictures.
Sometimes, when you watch a movie, you know it’s special. Whether it’s the way the light hits the screen, a certain performance, or perfect foreshadowing, there’s a special, recognizable feeling that you get when you know you’re witnessing cinema. Last year, for me, this came from watching Steven Spielberg’s The Fabelmans, and this year, no film has made me feel the same way that Oppenheimer did. Oppenheimer, Christopher Nolan’s twelfth feature film, revolves around J. Robert Oppenheimer (played by longtime Nolan collaborator Cillian Murphy), known as the father of the atomic bomb and the man responsible for a piece of history that shaped the world as we know it forever.
Cillian Murphy in Oppenheimer. Courtesy of Universal Pictures.
When the film begins, it becomes clear that, while this is (on paper) the least Christopher Nolan-Christopher Nolan film, he makes it clear that this is a story he’s telling. In the opening minutes, Nolan introduces the two timelines the film tackles (A) Fission, the cinematic past, depicted in color from Oppenheimer’s subjective point of view of the events (B) Fusion, the cinematic present, focusing on the objective perspective, primarily shown from the point of view of Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.), depicted in black-and-white film, a technique that Nolan hasn’t used since Memento (2000).
When Nolan opens the film on a set of text cards over fiery imagery, you know exactly what you’re in for. This is not a light movie, nor one that’s going to glorify its subject(s). Prometheus stole fire from the gods for humans. He was chained to a rock and tortured for eternity. This title card, though brief, not only reminds us that the film is adapted from American Prometheus, a 700-and-something-page book detailing the specific ins and outs of this story — making it even more impressive that Nolan synthesized it down to a 180-minute film which feels like nothing has been left out — but tells us what we need to know about J. Robert Oppenheimer for the earlier parts of this story to be effective. Like Prometheus, he took something that he wasn’t naturally supposed to have and gave it to humans, and he now lives to suffer the consequences. It’s not a moral question of if his actions were right or wrong as much as it asks if he is at fault for the fallout of his creation. It brought me back to a line from a different Spielberg film that said, “A creator who hates his own creation,” making us think about the fact that being known as the creator of the atomic bomb is was made Oppenheimer famous, but it’s also what drove him mad, arguably ruining his life.
For many, myself included, the most important part of the movie (an opinion formed before seeing the film) would be the Trinity Test, the historical event when the team at Los Alamos dropped the first Atomic Bomb, hoping for it to succeed so they can report to President Truman (played in the film by an almost unrecognizable Gary Oldman) that the weapon was available for use in war. Yes, this sequence is a showstopper. Immaculate audiovisual connectivity, brilliant writing, and focused filmmaking show that Nolan, as always, knows how to create an epic moment, in this case, perhaps one of the greatest sequences put to celluloid film. But that’s not the point. The point is that, in the ~30 seconds before the shockwave hits, we’re not supposed to focus on the bomb. We’re supposed to focus on the people (figuratively and literally) behind the bomb and the impact on their lives that this singular moment has. However, the definitive most important scene of the film comes after the test, in a scene set inside a gym as Murphy’s Oppenheimer addresses a crowd at Los Alamos following the uses of atomic bombs in Japan, a haunting scene that’s by far the best-directed scene in any Nolan Film.
Cillian Murphy in Oppenheimer. Courtesy of Universal Pictures.
Oppenheimer’s screenplay is undoubtedly the best writing of Nolan’s career as he effortlessly and effectively crafts numerous scenes of — literally — men talking in a room with the ferocity of a top-notch action scene. More than this, though, it’s the recurring ideology of Oppenheimer being an American Prometheus that Nolan, while not making it the singular focal point of the film, ties in from beginning to end with a haunting final scene, one that’s stuck with me since I sat silently, watching the credits as those around me filed out of the IMAX theater, perhaps running to the bathroom after the three-hour runtime, though it flies by, with a lightning-speed pace, maintained by Jennifer Lame’s tight editing.
While Nolan’s writing allows us to get inside Oppenheimer’s head figuratively, the way Director of Photography Hoyte van Hoytema uses the IMAX imagery (truly, the best way to see the film) for close-ups just as much as wide shots of landscapes allows us to focus on the landscapes of Oppenheimer’s mind, from the peaks and valleys of Cillian Murphy’s ridiculously defined cheekbones to the worlds in his eyes. With a repeating shot that bookends the film, Nolan and Hoytema define what we’re supposed to focus on from this journey; the man, not the bomb. Hoytema’s cinematography (which is stunning in every format and aspect ratio) never falters, crafting gorgeous shots of everything from miniatures depicting the splitting of atoms to the incredible Trinity Test. There are a few moments in the film where Hoytema’s visuals — paired with the phenomenal sound design (a major step-up from 2020’s Tenet) — become the most important part of the film, more so than any explosion ever could, leaning towards the more horrific side of the psychological effect that the bomb had on Oppenheimer, creating some of the scariest and most profoundly impactful scenes of the decade.
Cillian Murphy in Oppenheimer. Courtesy of Universal Pictures.
Though the title of the film will tell you that this is a movie about J. Robert Oppenheimer — the book it’s adapted from is titled American Prometheus — it’s not only a movie about Oppenheimer, and the ridiculously large, powerful ensemble proves that to be true at every turn. Robert Downey Jr. consistently shines as Lewis Strauss, the lead of the Fusion narrative branch, at times feeling unrecognizable as a man whose — as the film will tell you — life has been dictated by his actions and decisions regarding Oppenheimer’s work and life. Downey’s third-act turn, one akin to many characters in Nolan’s previous films, unveils the curtain of the film’s intertwining plot threads, allowing Downey to be the catalyst for a moment that left many, myself included, utterly speechless. Matt Damon, in his second Nolan movie, is really just Matt Damon with a mustache, providing comedic relief while reminding us that these events are “the most important fucking thing in the history of the world.” Though Downey’s moments in the film’s ending moments are impressive, no last-minute turn in Oppenheimer stands out quite as much as Emily Blunt (playing Kitty Oppenheimer, Robert’s wife), who, in a single scene commands the screen and displays the full range of her talents, in a moment that’s undoubtedly earned.
It’s hard to single out members of the ensemble without highlighting the incredible lead performance from Cillian Murphy, who, in his sixth Nolan film, finally gets to step into the spotlight, putting the film on his back. Murphy effectively plays Oppenheimer in a range of moments throughout the course of his life, relying on the strength of his performance — as opposed to digital aging and de-aging — to maintain an audience’s immersion in this man’s story. Sure, there are key moments to point out when someone may question just how good he is in this role, but truthfully, it’s easier to highlight the fact that there are very few scenes that don’t feature Murphy under the metaphorical spotlight, meaning that, even in the quiet moments, we never once slip out of the reality that when Cillian Murphy is on the screen in front of us, he is J. Robert Oppenheimer, full stop.
Cillian Murphy in Oppenheimer. Courtesy of Universal Pictures.
For as much praise as one can give to every single person involved with the project, double that has to be put on Christopher Nolan. Nolan, whose theatrics of loud scores, complex plots, and messing with the temporal nature of (non)linear storytelling have become staples of his, trades complexity in for his most straightforward film to date, though he still makes it clear that this is a Christopher Nolan film (as will the first card in the credits, which reads Written For the Screen and Directed By Christopher Nolan). His vision for Oppenheimer, one that spans time, characters, and even dimensions, is continually evident as he crafts a film that not only displays his prowess as a writer and director but as a visionary, able to use the smallest quiet moments as effectively as he uses large action and set pieces to convey the densely layered ideas, some to be found on your first watch, some on your third.
Though Nolan has worked with repeat collaborators over the years, one that was recently swapped out was composer Hans Zimmer, replaced by Ludwig Göransson, who first worked with Nolan on Tenet. Göransson, whose Tenet score was already incredible, raises the bar here, crafting what is by far the best score of the year, an album in contention with Justin Hurwitz’s Babylon score for one of the top spots of the decade. The music, serving as a character in the film, is used from start to finish, with very few scenes not accompanied by Ludwig’s score. For a while, it’s the kind of score where you don’t immediately recognize when it’s there, alerted to its absence more than its presence, that is, until we approach the film’s tensest sequence — one that had me physically shaking with anticipation — which is the leadup to the aforementioned Trinity Test. This piece of music effortlessly builds tension until it erupts, letting us sit with the fallout as the orchestra of violins moves us along to the next scene.
When it comes to the question of if Oppenheimer is the best Christopher Nolan movie, the objective answer is yes. The film is unlike any other historical film/biopic we’ve seen, one that easily finds itself in varying genres and tones, going from a tense military film in one moment to an electric courtroom drama in the next. Reader, it’s hard to define if this is my personal favorite Nolan film — Interstellar held the title for a long, long time — but it’s fair to say that this is easily his best work, one that will only get stronger with obsessive rewatches. It’s unlikely we’ll see a better film this year, but only time will tell (your move, Martin Scorsese).
Oppenheimer is now in theaters.
Director: Christopher Nolan
Writer: Christopher Nolan
Principal Cast: Cillian Murphy, Robert Downey Jr., Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, Florence Pugh
Rating: R
Runtime: 3hr 0m
Genre: War/Drama
