STUDIO

The convergence of the pandemic and rise of streaming media has been a disaster for movie theaters. For a variety of reasons, many people have stopped going to see new films in the theater and now wait until they are streaming. But this summer, two highly-anticipated films were released during the same weekend and became a synergistic event that offered a glimmer of hope for theaters, movie fans, Hollywood studios, and the vast labor force of those who make movies. In the weeks and even months leading up to “Barbenheimer,” the excitement for the weekend and its films grew and grew. The early reviews of both films were glowing, and many, many people got caught up in the anticipation and all of the memes, filmmaker interviews, Tik Tok videos, and pre-release think-pieces. Thus, it didn’t really come as a surprise that the early box office returns for both films were strong, even beyond what experts had anticipated. There was a feeling, for those of us swept up in the moment, that something increasingly rare was about to happen: a communal cultural event. And because the emotions this event created in people were so strong (feelings no doubt stemming from this moment’s many socio-cultural-political-ecological conditions, in addition to the nostalgia of both films), it is also no surprise that both have seemed to become more than themselves. “Christopher Nolan’s Masterpiece,” was one of the headlines I read in the days before I saw Oppenheimer–and based on everything I had seen and experienced online, I went into the film expecting not much less than that. I would have done well to step back, see the moment for what it was, and temper my expectations.

I believe that when this moment has passed, Oppenheimer will be seen for what it really is: an old-fashioned movie about a sprawling group of mostly white, dismayingly-myopic men racing to solve a scientific problem before the enemy does; then the film concludes with a patent gesture toward the consequences of their actions–a gesture that mostly falls flat because the narrative until that point, by focusing closely on these and only these characters, has inevitably made them sympathetic, even, as is the case here, heroes or martyrs or saints. The viewer is either unfamiliar or painfully familiar with the depth and nuance of the consequences that are not being captured; if the former, the film seems like a decent film, and if the latter, the film feels unintentionally gut-wrenching and dismayingly narrow and irresponsible. Even from among the long list of predecessors to Oppenheimer in this genre of “important men of history racing to solve problems they themselves are creating,” the film is not able to innovate much or even cohere into a solid offering. It is two movies crammed together–or really, an exciting scientific method action film unsure of how to portray its tragic underbelly, that suffers from the weight of an additional, labyrinthian dual-trial film breaking its back.

The film does look amazing, and there are scenes that are extremely effective in what they are trying to do. The lead actors deliver incredible performances, even if–as is the case particularly with the female leads–they are given nothing of substance to inhabit. Florence Pugh, one of the best actresses working today, is cast almost solely to be naked and then to commit suicide at the ideal narrative moment to wrench maximum anguish from the protagonist. Emily Blunt, also wasted here, is the broken yet devoted wife of the brilliant man. There is also a young, plucky female scientist on Oppenheimer’s team, but–plot twist!–she has opinions and doesn’t always agree with the way the Manhattan Project functions. The rest of the cast is a punishing avalanche of every white male actor working in Hollywood today. As they fall and fall on you, one can’t help but be pulled out of the film and think of how each of them must’ve celebrated being cast in the brilliant auteur’s latest offering. I love Cillian Murphy most ardently, and he is fantastic here; if not for Peaky Blinders this would be the performance of his career. But the film consistently does him a disservice in failing to explain the motivations of his character. J. Robert Oppenheimer drifts through the events of the film like an embodied narrative device, seemingly filled with emotion but with no apparent well of experience he is drawing from. The film expects you to bring your own understanding of what his motivations may have been, and your own understanding of the historical moment he was reacting to–but in an era when fascism is again on the rise that feels like a mistake. The film contains insufficient gestures of acknowledgement toward the native people of New Mexico, the Japanese civilians affected by the bombs, and the American citizens exposed to radiation in Trinity’s vast fallout zone.

Finally, the part of the film focusing on the cabinet confirmation hearing for Lewis Strauss, played by Robert Downey Jr., just didn’t work for me. The snappy, all-expository dialogue felt clumsy and mismatched to the rest of the film’s dialogue style (at one point I thought to myself, “Did Aaron Sorkin write this part of the script?”), and the reveal of Strauss as “the” villain felt forced. There are plenty of villains here. The devotion of the film’s attention to this part of the story felt misguided. In a movie called Oppenheimer, I would rather that time be spent more closely focused on its supposedly enigmatic protagonist: exploring his motivations, his ethical and political struggles with members of his own scientific community, and his last act as a vocal opponent of weapons of mass destruction. Or the movie could’ve been called “Trinity,” and been a different movie. Or the film could’ve been almost entirely focused on the “kangaroo court” hearing about Oppenheimer’s security clearance, a play-like script in a cramped, sweaty room, employing flashbacks for dramatic effect. Instead Nolan tries to have the movie be all these things and more, and it can’t hold its shape.

I haven’t seen Barbie yet, but I anticipate that I’ll like it better–which is not what I anticipated a few days ago. I’m a “serious movie” person at heart; but this serious movie didn’t work for me. I don’t believe it will be considered Nolan’s “masterpiece” (whatever that is), and think it will likely be remembered more for its “Barbenheimer” context than anything else. If you want to revisit Nolan’s great films, for my money they are: 1) Dunkirk, 2) Memento, 3) The Prestige, and 4) Inception. I would put all of those movies in front of Oppenheimer in terms of their influence on subsequent films and their unified vision.