“Oppenheimer”: How I Learned to Stop Loving and Worry About the Bomb

The long-awaited epic is energized and spectacular, but a somewhat myopic biopic

Even before the release of Oppenheimer’s trailer, the film was knee-deep in controversy. Most of the discussion was concerned with moral conflict and whether director Christopher Nolan would make his film “pro-bomb” or “anti-bomb,” a choice between two dull storytelling perspectives. Nolan’s work has been labeled by many people as conservative, largely because of The Dark Knight, which sympathizes with fascistic vigilantism in post 9-11 America without drawing definitive moral lines surrounding criminality. Otherwise, Nolan’s work does not have an explicit political perspective, and so his reputation as a conservative voice in Hollywood is not fully earned, although it sowed seeds of controversy for Oppenheimer before the film even hit theaters. Audiences anxiously anticipated the director’s treatment of J. Robert Oppenheimer, a morally compromised and historically divisive figure. What we got was far from anything anyone expected. 

The film is divided into two alternating chronologies — objective sequences, shot in black and white and divorced from Oppenheimer’s (Cillian Murphy) perspective, and subjective sequences depicting a colorful world seen exclusively through his eyes. Oppenheimer follows its eponymous protagonist as he rises in the world of quantum physics while frequently cutting to a post-WWII trial in which his allegiance to the country is questioned and his communist-adjacent past is seen by the government as a threat to the nation’s security.

Surprisingly, the film is patient with, and often empathetic towards, leftist politics, despite Nolan’s reputation. Oppenheimer’s relationships with communists are depicted as some of the few morally upright aspects of his scientific history, an astonishing perspective for the film to take. Nolan also goes out of his way to draw stark distinction between the scientists, with core moral principles, and the government officials, whose depravity truly drives the creation of the bomb. Oppenheimer is the only one who walks the line between them. 

Oppenheimer’s relation to communism is never confused with, or directly linked to, the creation of the bomb. Initially motivated to curb the wave of fascism rising in Europe, Oppenheimer is determined to construct the bomb as a means of deterring and defeating genocide overseas. Additionally, Oppenheimer frequently reminds the audience of the protagonist’s Judaism, connecting him to the war effort, but also demonstrates his cultural separation from his identity, most likely as to not implicate his religious belief system in his moral failings. However, Nolan explicitly does not use Oppenheimer’s motivation as a justification for the “horrific but necessary” myth that permeates American understanding of the atomic bomb. Oppenheimer's descent into obsession with the weapon is purposefully hard to identify, until he learns of Hitler’s death and we see how far Oppenheimer has fallen. Hitler’s suicide and Germany’s subsequent surrender are only mentioned in passing, and the ostensible defeat of Oppenheimer’s enemy does nothing to shift his perspective. The audience then makes the chilling discovery that a Nazi defeat makes no difference to him. He has spiraled so far in pursuit of his weapon that the now-pointlessness of it is lost on him, and he will only feel victorious upon its detonation. Oppenheimer never considers the consequences of the war and his weapon on the victims of Japan’s fascism. His work is no longer about justice — now, all he cares about is the bomb.

Oppenheimer escapes the banal trope of the troubled genius that is now cliche in Hollywood, and the film goes so far as to wonder if Oppenheimer was even a genius at all, as the most crucial scientific discoveries of the Manhattan Project were made by his collaborators. Nevertheless, he leads the organization of these discoveries, and only after the devastation occurs does his disillusionment allow him to recognize the dire consequences of his endeavor and the pointlessness of deploying the weapon. As Los Alamos celebrates the triumph of the bomb, we zero in on Oppenheimer’s gaze and watch as his audience melts away in front of him, his surroundings shake, and he realizes the meaninglessness of the mass destruction. 

Oppenheimer fumbles because it is far too concerned with the man. Character studies are not inherently bad, but in this case, a sole focus on Oppenheimer is detrimental to the full scope of history. Upon the detonation of the bombs over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Oppenheimer cannot look tragedy in the face. As we watch him facing a slideshow of the aftermath of the bomb, he is unable to look at the photos, unwilling to confront the armageddon he created. However, Nolan does not let the audience see the slideshow either, never turning from Oppenheimer’s perspective. The implied terror makes an impact, but Nolan embraces the American practice of refusing to come to terms with our atrocities. By not showing us any evidence of the devastation of Japan, Oppenheimer retreats into cowardice just like its protagonist. Nolan refutes the opportunity to do for the audience what the man in his film was too cowardly to do — come face to face with the disturbing truth. 

Oppenheimer is a technical masterpiece, and the stunning lead performance, though occasionally stiff, merits a watch for creative achievement alone. The viewing experience is unfortunately compromised because, in Nolan’s attempt to examine one of history’s most divisive figures, he injects some of the protagonist’s own apathy. While condemning Oppenheimer, Nolan restricts us solely to his own vision, never freeing us from our unwillingness to face the consequences of our own destructive tendencies, which ultimately destroy ourselves. 

OVERALL SCORE: 7/10

Oppenheimer was released on July 21 and is currently in US theaters.