#17: Oppenheimer

Christopher Nolan had to have a representation on this list: between his 11 feature films from the 21st century, he has managed to become the best blend of high concept, technically brilliant filmmaking with popcorn accessibility, action, and celebrity. In spite of his storytelling and writing flaws, which ebb and flow throughout his undeniably successful career, he remains a filmmaker whose movies demand to be seen and considered thoughtfully. Not only this, he rarely misses: even his lesser works (Insomnia, Tenet) are at least well-executed genre films, if not outright rip-roaring good times.

This makes choosing a Nolan representation for the 25 for 25 list exceedingly difficult. He has, to his credit, the best superhero film ever made in The Dark Knight, one of the best sci-fi films of the 21st century in Interstellar, and some of the best original works of any director in the last quarter century (Inception, The Prestige, Memento). Perhaps all of his success, and particularly his ability to bring to bear some of the most memorable cinematic moments alongside his specially compiled teams to execute his vision, is what makes his take on J. Robert Oppenheimer so compelling—after all, this is precisely what the man himself did, albeit in a situation of much greater (and morally ambiguous) consequence. I wrote out my full thoughts in my review years ago, which I have copied below:

For decades Christopher Nolan has seemed intent on telling the stories of men composed of atoms at once aspirational and haughty, brilliant and haunted. For as much as these effectively tortured portraits of the brokenness and beauty of man's search for meaning have captured critical appreciation and popular praise--recall the undeniably masterly showings from Guy Pearce in Memento, Hugh Jackman in The Prestige, or even Dicaprio in Inception--Nolan has also developed a stereotyped reputation, becoming a director who at times seems high on his own supply of convoluted timelines and obvious dialogue which breaks the foundational rules of "show, don't tell" exposition. While establishing a filmography of compelling, spectacular, and eminently watchable (and rewatchable) movies that have rightly made every new release an opening weekend must-see, Nolan has still often seemed curiously like his protagonists: a man stuck within his own ingenious mind, method, and madness.

This is precisely why the life and work of J. Robert Oppenheimer, when it was announced as the subject material for Nolan's latest project, seemed almost suspiciously perfect. Indeed, God made Nolan and Oppenheimer for one another - both are men whose undeniable intellectual fortitude and excellence in their craft are often overshadowed by the spectacle of what they have produced. And while we certainly find the expected spectacle in Nolan's three-hour long magnum opus (indeed, there is not a filmmaker alive more equipped to visually and audibly re-enact the testing of the first atom bomb), it is the growth of his filmmaking in the smaller choices here that makes Oppenheimer Nolan's best work to date.

The film is adapted from Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin's massive 2005 biography American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer, and thus it borrows extensively from the book, particularly in reference to Oppenheimer's educational and professional journey towards his leading of the famous "Manhattan Project." Oppenheimer recruited and worked together with dozens of the greatest scientific minds in the world as they attempted to, and ultimately succeeded in, developing atomic weapons that would lead to the immensely destructive and war-ending attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Yet it's not just the bomb and its development that explodes off the screen here: it's Nolan's in-depth character study of Oppenheimer--brought to life in an immediate awards frontrunner through the burdened and steely performance of Cillian Murphy--that makes this film far more than tremendous action. Whereas in many of his previous ventures Nolan might have resorted to some grandiose, obvious, and ultimately tacky dialogue to hammer home his themes, he maintains great restraint with this latest screenplay, allowing the moral ambiguity and weight to breathe, worn most in the body and ocean blue eyes of Murphy and shown through creative visual flourishes reminiscent of some of the greatest visual minds in recent cinema history. At times Nolan's visual depictions of Oppenheimer's mind reckoning with quantum mechanics through sudden bursts of light and sound hearken back to the best of Terrence Malick or Alfonso Cuarón. More than this, Nolan actually gives a woman something to do in this film, a rarity in his previous work. Emily Blunt's portrayal as the tortured wife of the genius and malintegrous central figure is compelling, and Florence Pugh's role as Oppenheimer's communist muse and mistress Jean Tatlock provides a thoughtfully seductive and destructive flourish of a woman reckoning with identity and power in the world. These characters allow for the movie to become more than just another biopic about a "tortured and great man:" they provide meaningful insight--in unprecedented and striking scenes of intimacy for Nolan--into the nakedness and vulnerability not only of a man praised, used, and cast aside by his country but also of the women he himself praised, used, and cast aside. Indeed, the script is perhaps the best of Nolan's because it is, at the necessary times, the least wordy he has been. He finally seems to trust his own image-making and the audience's ability to put the pieces together themselves. One scene in particular, where Oppenheimer gives a resounding speech following the "success" of the attacks on Japan, is on the short list for best film sequences not just of 2023 but of the last decade in film.

All of this terrific screenwriting and directing is bolstered by another blaring score from Ludwig Göransson, Nolan's partner in the equally excellent sound work in Tenet, and the work of Hoyte von Hoytema, who is rapidly becoming--after the legendary Roger Deakins--the greatest living cinematographer (just peruse his Imdb profile to be impressed). The movie not only works as a character study, but feels like the subject matter it is portraying, a tension-filled ticking of a bomb in your pounding chest and sweating palms. This remains true despite the fact that the movie is predominantly composed of people talking to one another: Oppenheimer is propulsive, particularly in its first two hours, though the final hour does fall prey to a bit of Nolan's trademark cumbersome complexity. The editing of Jennifer Lame--she of Manchester By The Sea and Marriage Story, interestingly both compelling character dramas--helps immensely with this. Rarely is dialogue in a scene finished before we cut to the response or the next moment, making each shot feel unfinished and thus pushing the audience forward into the story.

Between him and his cast and crew, Nolan, like Oppenheimer himself, has managed to compile a perfect team to pull off the greatest feat of his career. A Promethean-esque true mythology; a damning critique of the military industrial complex; a deeply personal examination of how to evaluate corrupt genius; and an existentially provocative exposing of human capacity and hubris that left everyone in my screening reflectively silent for minutes as they filed out of the theatre. Oppenheimer is the most of Nolan's best and the least of his worst, a certified 21st century staple that may finally earn him his long awaited Oscar.

Other Recommendations If You Like Oppenheimer: Steve Jobs, Lincoln, 1917