Oppenheimer Review
‘Prometheus stole fire from the Gods and gave it to humans and he was chained to a rock for eternity.’ Reads the opening text of Oppenheimer. The consequence of monumental power is a daunting and terrifying idea that permeates through almost every scene in Christopher Nolan’s three-hour epic. At its heart is Cillian Murphy, providing a performance instilled with dread, pathos and – most interestingly – one of contradiction. Oppenheimer’s infatuation with Godlike power is one which entangles both his ego and morality, forming a man who can neither be at peace with the success or failure of his mission. Yet, Oppenheimer faces more than one war here. Oppenheimer is also battling against the bureaucratic forces that deem him a communist and potential enemy of the state. There is nary an air of reprise in Oppenheimer. At every turn the fate of humanity or our central character is on the verge of collapse, juggling between the forces of God and the pitiful grievances of man.
In traditional Nolan fashion, Oppenheimer’s narrative is fragmented, told out of order, taking us backwards and forwards through the career of Robert J. Oppenheimer; a narrative framed by the inquiry into his ideological allegiances post World War Two. Oppenheimer’s grievances with the US government are embodied in Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.), the head of the Atomic Energy Commission. Downey Jr. has likened this rivalry to Amadeus and Salieri, embittered by Oppenheimer’s status and genius. Downey Jr. gives a career best performance as Strauss. Downey Jr. simply disappears, sinking into this resentful soul that allows his facial expression to speak louder than his words. While Murphy and Downey will take most of the praise here, along with a terrific and cold Emily Blunt. However, it is Jason Clarke who has gone under the radar as one of the film’s best performers, brining perfect pomposity to the hostile Roger Robb.
Oppenheimer is the culmination of Nolan’s cinema, with plentiful odes to his styles and previous films. The film jumps through the chronology and mixes black and white and colour to establish fact and subjectivity like Memento; the team of scientists assembled for Los Alamos is akin to the heist style of Inception; and the visualisation of scientific theory and concepts, harkens back to Interstellar. Scientific jargon and exposition do take up a lot of the conversations, but in contrary to this, Oppenheimer is Nolan’s most human film to date. Unlike any of his films before, Nolan uses close-up to a welcomingly intense degree here, allowing the audience to take in the sheer emotional weight of what is at stake here, with much of it carried by Murphy.
This is cinematographer Hoyt Van Hoytema’s fourth collaboration with Nolan and his camerawork is once again clear, precise, providing grandiosity as well as intimacy. The all practical VFX work here is astounding, visualising the nanoscopic nature of atoms, all the way to the gargantuan flames of the nuclear bomb. It is a wonder to witness. From the get-go, Oppenheimer goes at a bewildering pace. Taking us across multiple time periods, conversations, and experiments, while being almost entirely scored for its three-hour runtime. At times it moves like improvisational jazz, going along frenetically with a medley of the senses. It makes for an interesting pace for a film with such heavy subject matter, but at times it goes too quickly, not allowing for dramatic moments to have the intended emotional weight as we are briskly moved to the next scene.
Oppenheimer is a colossal film. It is one that manages to capture the personal plight of its protagonist, while ruminating on humanity’s own, potentially fatal mistakes. At times Nolan makes us want to turn back the clock, bringing forth the horror of scientific discovery that feels emotionally overwhelming. All of it is punctuated by Murphy’s profound performance and an ensemble that aid him at every turn. This is spectacle on a terrifyingly beautiful scale, with an ending that will leave you haunted.