Oppenheimer asks questions as big as its runtime is long

Oppenheimer. // Courtesy of Universal Pictures

If Christopher Nolan’s staggering Oppenheimer has a unifying theme (it has many), it’s that the human tendency toward destruction—of self and of others—is unstoppable. The questions then follow: what is our responsibility in stopping human destruction on a grand scale? Is it acceptable to respond with additional catastrophic annihilation? And, if you’re responsible for facilitating destruction on a scale the world has never before seen, how do you live with yourself?

Nolan’s film considers these questions, while also exploring the ways great ideas and the people who have them become co-opted and weaponized (literally, in this case) by the imaginationless and power-hungry. It’s a movie about the creation of the atomic bomb, yes. It’s also about the danger of putting incendiary ideas into practice. You can even read it as a parable about craft versus commerce.

Oppenheimer is all these things and more, while also being a riveting portrait of a man whose work we’re still living with the consequences of today.

Oppenheimer follows two perspectives. One is J. Robert Oppenheimer himself (Cillian Murphy), dragged into a hearing years after the dropping of the atomic bomb on Japan under accusations of leaking the information that allowed Russia to build its own atomic weapon. The other is Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.), Oppenheimer’s petty former boss at the Atomic Energy Commission, who’s in a senate confirmation hearing for a cabinet position, and is faced with a number of questions about Oppenheimer’s sympathies and his work at the AEC. 

Nolan and cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema show scenes from Oppenheimer’s point of view in color, while Strauss’ are in black and white. Oppenheimer’s story recounts the events of his career leading up to and during the Manhattan Project, during which he worked for General Leslie Groves (Matt Damon) leading a team of scientists at Los Alamos to build the atomic bomb. Strauss’ perspective is post-World War II, following his frustrations with Oppenheimer for shooting down approval on the even more powerful hydrogen bomb.

The switch between styles more than clarifies who’s telling us what. It also distinguishes how each man operates. Strauss, an image-conscious political ladder-climber who chases clout and dominance without considering the consequences, has a limited, selfish understanding of the way the world works.

Oppenheimer, who understands ideas in potential and practical forms, sees “beyond the world we live in,” as one character puts it. He sees in color, but the way Nolan depicts him, he might as well perceive things with the rainbow-colored clarity of a mantis shrimp.

Oppenheimer. // Courtesy of Universal Pictures

In addition to Murphy’s fascinating performance as Oppenheimer, the film features a stacked cast. Josh Hartnett continues his renaissance with a career-best turn as physicist Ernest Lawrence. Dane DeHaan is effectively weaselly as Groves’ assistant Kenneth Nichols, who gets increasingly slimy the more power he gets (Nolan recognizes as few others have that DeHaan is best employed in Brad Dourif-style roles). We also get heady, delightful work from solid performers including Jack Quaid, Macon Blair, Jason Clarke, David Krumholtz and local hero David Dastmalchian. Blink and you’ll miss James Urbaniak. 

All of this is secondary to the philosophical pondering swirling at the heart of Oppenheimer. Murphy’s Oppenheimer is always aware of what the weapon his team is developing can do. His hope is that it’s theoretical, a warning to the Germans of their capabilities. When it’s finally used in Japan at the end of the war, he’s wracked with guilt while still keeping up a patriotic front lest anyone question his sympathies. 

Strauss sees Oppenheimer’s disapproval of the h-bomb and advocacy for international arms control as a cover for communist sympathies. From the other side of the (technically ongoing) Cold War, we know the scientist is trying to halt an arms race. Strauss, who creates nothing, but sees opportunities for might and personal advancement, wants to push those opportunities as far as possible with little thought to how others will suffer. Oppenheimer, the actual creator, understands the consequences of what Strauss wants, but lacks the clout to stop him.

Considering we’re living in a post-atomic world heavily informed by the international weapons race the Manhattan Project kicked off, Oppenheimer is worth watching to understand how our current status came to be. As a film that also has plenty to say about the difference between executives and craftspeople in a time when that relationship is more fraught than it’s ever been, Oppenheimer is a cautionary reminder of how toxic that gulf can be in the worst circumstances. This is a story for all times, but it’s also an especially interesting one at this present time.