The atomic bomb, a cloud of dust scattering the air, and the deafening explosion constitute the images that people conjure up when thinking of World War II, the world’s largest and most deadly war. Following this, grave yet intriguing questions arise: What are the far reaching consequences of this unprecedented weapon? What characterizes the persona of the scientist closest to its creation, Robert J Oppenheimer? How did the atomic bomb change the scientist himself? Christoper Nolan’s award-winning film offers answers to these questions but also prompts profound contemplations.
Nolan has chosen to start this award-winning film in an intriguing place, with both the main protagonist Oppenheimer (Cilian Murphy) and the stealthily hostile villain, Atomic Energy Commissioner Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey, Jr.) facing separate trials that will determine consequences of both individuals’ actions during and after the Manhattan Project. The complexity of the characters and scenes are immediately evident to the viewer, who is thrust into the deep sea of Nolan’s biography of a brilliant and complicated scientist, and the unyielding tensions of the time period in which he lived.
Nolan continues presenting the complexity in the second scene, portraying Oppenheimer studying at Cambridge. This scene is intentionally multi-layered, reflecting the story of Oppenheimer’s troubled mind at university. Following mishaps in the laboratory and condescending remarks from his professor, Patrick Blackett (James D’Arcy) Oppenheimer poisons an apple, intending to kill his professor. On that very day, Niels Bohr (Kenneth Branagh), the famous physicist, visits as a lecturer.
Unlike Oppenheimer’s professor, who harshly criticized Oppenheimer for his incompetence in the lab, Bohr compliments the young scientist for his insightful questions during his lecture. Bohr’s encouragement for Oppenheimer to study theoretical physics in Germany changes the course of Oppenheimer’s study and story, setting him on the path to the renowned physicist he soon becomes. Before the scene cuts, Bohr tells Oppenheimer, “The important thing isn’t if you can read music. It’s can you hear the music. Can you hear the music?” Bohr’s pointed advice is that Oppenheimer should aim to be in a place which allows him to think freely and openly.
Bohr then picks up the poisoned apple and prepares to eat it, at which point, Oppenheimer panickedly shoves it away from Bohr and tosses it into the trash with the dry remark, “wormhole.” While the scene is darkly comic, it succeeds in showing Oppenheimer’s hidden, dangerous sides. Despite his brilliance in theoretical physics, he struggles immensely in the lab, and ultimately his frustration pushes him to the extreme of attempting to murder his professor.
This apple scene communicates to the viewer that this will be a film far from simple to follow. The film, rich in small intricacies, is not designed for the viewer to understand every detail on their first viewing. Instead, it is designed to let all the information flow around the viewer, and allow unique effects, including the soundtrack, color, creative juxtaposition of different time periods, and storytelling to form a special message.
The poisoned apple scene, with its layers, also paves the way for the epic montage scene that follows. Each layer of contrast in both the cinematography and music in this remarkable montage adds a further deep complexity, which serves to draw the viewer deeper into the mind of the creative genius, Oppenheimer. The montage depicts an array of scenes of breaking glass and cycles of art, thought, and fantastical energy from the perspective of the scientist. It is paired with a complex soundtrack, the aptly named “Can You Hear The Music ” by Ludwig Göransson.
Though the logic of the pairing and music itself are difficult to follow at first, as the contrasting spirals of rhythm and tempo coalesce to a magnificent final melody, the music effectively communicates and enhances the grand cinematography. With an expansive presentation of creation and destruction, the scene together with the music opens the viewer’s mind to a seemingly endless world.
When the music stops, the viewer is jarringly transported from the vibrant vast world of the montage to a significantly narrower realm. In addition, Nolan switches from the bright and open colors of the previous scene to black and white, adding to the claustrophobic feeling which contrasts to the montage. Lewis Strauss is shown in the confirmation hearing for his position as Atomic Energy Commissioner under President Eisenhower. Within this hearing are his own reflections of experiences with Oppenheimer, which had taken place twelve years earlier. Oppenheimer is shown through Strauss’ eyes as being slightly cold and unwilling to commit himself to an offer of a position at Strauss’ Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton. Then the shots pan through a window where there is a familiar character with his distinctive white and unruly hair: Albert Einstein (Tom Conti). He is seen near a pond, and Oppenheimer, declining Strauss’ offer of introduction, approaches the iconic scientist, picking up Einstein’s hat thrown astray by the wind as they begin to converse in a conversation.
The frustrating aspect of the scene is that the words are not audible. The audience only has a short glimpse of the conversation before the camera pans away from the two scientists and back to Strauss’ eyes. The conversation is over by the time Strauss reaches them, and Einstein gives Strauss a cold shoulder when he attempts to exchange a polite greeting. Questions strongly nag at the viewer. What could these words exchanged between the two scientists have been? Were they important? Were they critical? Were they trivial?
The method of layering different aspects of the film, such as color and time period, is an effective technique that Nolan uses not only in these opening scenes but throughout the entire watch time. Certainly, the constant jump between time periods and perspectives poses a potential dilemma of over-complexity. However, Nolan adeptly manages to walk this fine line without crossing it. His aforementioned use of contrasting color palettes to signal abrupt cuts in time periods and perspectives, for instance, adds more weight to each cut and prevents viewer confusion.
Nolan’s use of contrasting color backgrounds is deliberate and metaphorical. Strauss’ perspective is always shot in black and white, compared to Oppenheimer’s perspective always being shot in full color. For example, in every transition to scenes in which Strauss is in his Congressional hearing for confirmation of his governmental position, the monochrome color scheme is a direct opposition to what is otherwise a film of hauntingly vivid color. The one-dimensional shade strongly implies that Strauss is missing the full picture, having never endured the true trials and turbulence of Oppenheimer. The effect on the viewer is clear. They are predisposed to favor the depictions of Oppenheimer’s perspective over that of Strauss’s.
To add to the brilliant art piece, Nolan juxtaposes well-thought scenes of different characters’ perspectives. These scenes dive under the surface layer of every key character and allow for thoughtful observation of the title character’s true many-sided nature.
One of the best examples is the scene of Oppenheimer’s beginning at Berkeley, where Oppenheimer’s teaching journey is elegantly portrayed. A single student expands into a whole classroom full of students, and the room becomes fuller, the music richer. But then, there is an abrupt cut to Strauss’ perspective on Oppenheimer’s time as a college instructor, which pits the stark reality of Oppenheimer’s suspected communist ties and beliefs at the university against the passionate lecture he gives to his pupils about vast and epic natures of stars.
In an equally compelling scene, a colleague of Oppenheimer’s at Berkeley, Ernest Lawrence (Josh Hartnett), scolds Oppenheimer for permitting his students to write pro-communist sentiments on the blackboard. Oppenheimer, however, openly admits he has written the comments himself, tipping his hand. Nolan then shows scenes of him making multiple appearances at Communist meetings, where crowds chant his name. Oppenheimer’s communist sympathies are taken to an extreme, as during his time at the Manhattan Project, pro-communist individuals are shown pressuring him to reveal governmental secrets to the USSR. The viewer is invited to witness staunchly anti-communist individuals questioning Oppenheimer’s ties to pro-Communist sympathizers, a subplot that reverberates in a red fire throughout the film.
By contrasting Oppenheimer’s time as a professor at Berkeley giving engaging lectures with the controversial sides of his political affiliations, Nolan ensures that the viewer is thoroughly informed of not only the scientist’s virtuosity in physics, but also aspects of his beliefs which cast suspicion on his loyalty to the United States.
Indeed, Nolan continues using juxtaposition of multiple time periods and perspectives of Oppenheimer against Strauss throughout the entire movie. For instance, the viewer sees Strauss’ conflicts with Oppenheimer in the scientist’s opposition to further hydrogen and atomic weapon development during the Cold War. At the same time, the viewer is also privy to Oppenheimer’s own hearing for his communist sympathies. He is outed in harsh words by witnesses, including his colleagues.
The shadow of the potential devastation of a nuclear weapon, including the possibility that it will destroy the world in a never ending fusion reaction is ever-present throughout the film. There is a haunting undercurrent of… what if? This unrestrained dilemma cascades in a scene in Princeton, where Oppenheimer urgently seeks the advice of Einstein. Yet there is little comfort in Einstein’s words. The only “consoling” point is that later calculations reveal the potential for world destruction to be “near zero,” an infuriating prophecy admitting uncertainty.
Towards the end of the movie, sound effects and music heighten the tension in the film which reaches its breaking point, the atomic bomb about to explode. A frantic crescendo of orchestra signals the Manhattan Project is nearing a close. The scientists tensely anticipate the detonation, donning goggles for the event inching closer and closer. The clock ticks down, a voice counting each second down to zero. A scientist’s shaking hand is shown hovering over the red button, ready to launch the bomb. Then the music suddenly stops, and an explosion shakes the world.
Unexpectedly, Nolan has chosen to depict the critical moment of detonation with absolute silence. A black and red cloud of smoke billows into the sky, but there is no sound of the energy released. The soundlessness echoes the lack of representation for a force never seen before of inconceivable power. Only the natural rustling of the scientists lying down watching intently through black lenses can be heard. After seconds that seem like eternity, soft strings begin to play a solemn melody in the background. And then a shattering rumbling is heard, piercing into the dead silence as the shockwaves and immense sounds of the energy being released pulse violently, a rumbling felt by scientists and film audience alike. The contrast of sound effects from sheer silence against the massive explosion adds an potent aura of awe and dread to the terror just unleashed upon the world.
The film deliberately does not show the scene of horror which inevitably follows, but its shadow looms large over the rest of the film. Viewers hear President Truman’s voice ringing through the radio announcing the detonation of bombs over Japan, the cheering of a crowd chanting Oppenheimer’s name as he looks hesitantly towards them, soon drowned out by their stamping feet. In sharp contradiction to the cheering, emotions of grief and confusion overwhelm the scientists who worked on the atomic bomb and convey the catastrophic consequences. Tears drain from their eyes down their faces. Many vomit in nauseating disgust over their own creation. Any triumph is overshadowed by the terrifying realization of a dark haze that has forever scarred the earth.
Then the film storms to a conclusion, telling the end of his story, Oppenheimer’s. In defeat, he is forced off his own project and denied security clearance. His suspected beliefs and ties to communism, together with his conflicts with Strauss about atomic development, echo in unison as a final decision is made. He is cut off permanently, forever changing the landscape of his legacy.
The viewer experiences temporary vindication as Strauss too is outed by the testimonies of Oppenheimer’s colleagues, who are shown in heated voices strongly opposing Strauss’ confirmation for his strong “personal vindictiveness” and “animus” against Oppenheimer. The final decision for Strauss’ confirmation is thoughtfully emphasized by Nolan. In the scene in which Strauss realizes he is denied, the film refers to three people who withheld their votes, led by a certain junior senator from Massachusetts. His name? John F. Kennedy.
The culminating ending of the film is bittersweet tinged with a dark prophecy. In the final cut from Strauss’ being denied to the end scene, Oppenheimer is shown in conversation with Einstein. It is the same conversation that had been witnessed by Strauss, close to the opening of the film. This time, though, the sky is no longer gray and dull, but a full sky blue, and the grass a vibrant green.
The viewer looks through Oppenheimer’s eyes, as Einstein tells Oppenheimer of their work as scientists. Both Einstein’s and now Oppenheimer’s work were not for them, but instead for those who came afterwards. Einstein discovered the quantum world for Oppenheimer to create his weapon. Now Oppenheimer’s creation will scatter its cloud of dust and energy far throughout time, forever etching its shadowy name into the timeline of forever.
In all, with Oppenheimer, Nolan succeeds in achieving his ultimate goal: telling the story of a scientist who played the leading role in the creation of an unprecedented, lethal force which transformed the world. He uses color, sound, and mixing of scenes of different time periods and character perspectives to depict and reveal the complexity of the titular character and the history he lived through and created. It is no wonder that this film has already garnered so many awards, and will likely earn more come the Academy Awards in March. The impression left on the viewer after this masterful film concludes is one of awe, fear, and deep, somber, conflicted reflection.