By Karthik Iyer
If nothing else, Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer has changed the way I look at raindrops. There are only two shots of them in the film: one at the beginning and one at the end. Everything that happens in between changed my perspective.
Nolan gave Cillain Murphy, who plays J. Robert Oppenheimer, one note about how he looked at the character. He told him that Oppenheimer is dancing between the raindrops. What he possibly meant by that, and how I relate it to the film I watched inside an IMAX theatre, is that more raindrops falling on a body, what’s truer is that raindrops from the body. To put it simply: the moral decisions that Oppenheimer takes in the film are never taken in isolation, in a state detached from the outside world; outside the context of the reality that he inhabits. He knows he is surrounded by raindrops, by various choices, opinions, facts, and options to the extent that he is overwhelmed by it. The challenge is for him to take decisions, especially the right ones.
Over the course of the film, Murphy and Nolan create a character with a clear duality that arises out of this situation. ‘Oppie’, as he is known by his peers and colleagues, the father of the atomic bomb, displays all the qualities of the leader he is supposed to be. Robert, the person behind that display, is troubled. Murphy employs two subtle approaches in bringing out this duality. It seems so natural that over the course of the film, we spot the difference. Cillian Murphy the actor disappears, and that is the brilliance of his performance.
Let me clarify. The duality is not plastic in nature. Much like Christian Bale’s in Batman Begins, it is at the core of what the film is trying to do. It is attempting to tell us that most of the decisions we take, we take them based on how we feel. Emotions informed by rationale, not the other way around. This is one of the biggest examples of that because one of the biggest human decisions was taken with an enormous contribution of emotions.
However, we can’t go out in the world and talk about doing things because we felt like it; trying it in a room full of marketing MBAs. The film raises essential questions: how much of your morality is influenced by your emotions? And what influences those emotions? How much choice do you really have?
Christopher Nolan poses these questions and explores these themes by starting the film with two critical points in the life of two people: Oppenheimer and Lewis Strauss. Both feel they are on trial. They are told they are but neither can shake of the feeling that they are. From that point, we start off with Oppenheimer taking us through his life. It is a memory: his life the way he saw it (the way Chris interprets it). At the same time, Strauss informs us about how the world saw him. Nolan and Jennifer Lame, the editor of the film, weave these narrative threads together to inform us of the context and content of J. Robert Oppenheimer’s life and his moral conundrums. This is easier said than done, but the director-editor duo does such an incredible job of it that we are always in the middle of a whirlwind. It feels like Oppenheimer was caught in a storm. That’s how Nolan interprets his life.
This is primarily why the film runs so fast. The pace is relentless because a lot of things are going on in Oppenheimer’s life. To recollect it all, justify it all to himself is a dizzying task. Isn’t that true with all of us?
The kind of genre mix that Nolan goes for also affects the pace. The film is part coming-of-age, part action, part thriller and part crime. On page, it sounds like a disaster. Christopher Nolan pulls it off with aplomb. The coming-of-age works almost like Boyhood. The transition of one event from another in that Linklater film is quite ephemeral. You can sit down and rationalize but with each viewing, I get the feeling that the narrative is guided by memory and emotion; so is the case with Oppenheimer. The action part feels like Seven Samurai. A village hires samurai they dislike to help them defend against invaders. Tweak it a little and you have the plot of Oppenheimer: a country hires scientists they dislike to help it defend against invaders. Crime and thriller go hand-in-hand, talking about how the corridors of power exert influence over policy decisions and public opinion. It reminded me of The Irishman.
The reason why Oppenheimer is Christopher Nolan’s most ambitious script is that this mix of genres actually works. It makes this 3 hour long biographical film, releasing as a summer blockbuster, produced by one of the biggest studious out there, engaging to watch for everyone. Make it any slower, people will sleep. Make it any faster, it will lose coherence. The script is well-balanced, providing an enjoyable experience; if enjoyable is a word you can use for such a dense film.
A major contributor to the film’s ease of viewing is the music. Ludwig Goransson’s score carries the film on its back. It elevates it to an enriching and fulfilling experience, adding to the dramatic elements. It is almost a third character in the film. If you were to remove the dialogues and turn Oppenheimer into a silent film, it will work. The music will do the talking, just like in Dunkirk.
The images, designed by Hoyte van Hoytema, have that power too. The world-building is detailed and rich. However, the strongest element in the film is the human face. All the actors give excellent performances. They are allowed to breathe, to act, surprisingly in a film with this pace. There are several shots in the film where none of them are saying anything. Their faces are allowed to emote. And those are the shots that leave the strongest impact.
A special mention for Robert Downey Jr. is necessary because it is his face that is the most surprising. Perhaps because we are seeing him act as someone other than Iron Man after a long time. More so because his performance is simply good. It is as layered as Cillian Murphy’s. Both deserve the applause being heaped on them. In fact, the entire case does. Each of them has pivotal moments where they steal the show: from Emily Blunt to Benny Safdie, from Casey Affleck to Rami Malek, from Kenneth Branagh to Gary Oldman, from Florence Pugh to Tom Conti. Their faces say it all.
It is these faces that stick with you. Their stories echo and resonate after the end of the film. Oppenheimer becomes less about the explosion and more about the implosion.
The big question is: what next?
Oppenheimer reminds me of Psycho. Alfred Hitchcock became a household name internationally after the success of the film. It cemented his position in the history of cinema. His earlier films weren’t bad. In fact, Psycho came after the strongest decade of his long career that started with Strangers on a train and ended with Vertigo. Psycho was his entry into the 1960s. However, in my opinion, none of his later films matched the brilliance of Psycho, and everything that came before it: neither Birds nor Marnie, Frenzy or Family Plot.
Will Oppenheimer become Christopher Nolan’s Psycho? Or will it be his Strangers on the train? I am excited to find out.