Oppenheimer Review: Christopher Nolan's Thriller Biopic Is One Of The Best Movies Of The Year

This piece was written during the 2023 WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. Without the labor of the writers and actors currently on strike, the movie being reviewed here wouldn't exist.

Christopher Nolan's "Oppenheimer" is nothing short of extraordinary. In what might be his magnum opus, Nolan has meticulously crafted a biopic that feels like a thriller. He's also managed to find a way to make 3 hours of people sitting in rooms talking at each other downright exciting. In an era where most movies can feel too long and bloated, Nolan shows an incredible grasp of pacing, using his ticking clock fetish to move the narrative along at near-breakneck speed. The film dumps a massive amount of information on the viewer and doesn't slow down to explain things — you'll have to keep up. And you'll want to keep up, because Nolan hooks you from the jump, unleashing whirls of color and light in the form of abstract shapes underscored by rumbling danger. It's ominous and captivating, and Nolan employs these abstract visuals throughout the film, offering us a glimpse into the mind of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb

As played by Cillian Murphy, Oppenheimer is described in many ways. He's an egotist, a womanizer, a genius. He's an aloof sphynx. A man seemingly at war with his own brilliance. Murphy stuns in the role, adopting a soft-spoken voice and bugging his big, beautiful blue eyes out of his head. Oppenheimer was said to have the most brilliant blue eyes, and that's conveyed perfectly here. You can almost get lost in those eyes. And Nolan clearly knows it, employing countless close-ups on Murphy's face as he ponders and puzzles and chain-smokes his way through life, creating wreckage along the way. He looks haunted, and as the film progresses, haunted is exactly what he becomes. Nolan hints at the darkness to come early on, when Oppenheimer is in the midst of a tryst with his young mistress, Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh). Standing nude before him, she holds up a book and asks him to read a passage. In a quiet voice, Oppenheimer obliges: "Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds." 

"Oppenheimer" introduces its protagonist in crisis mode. He's studying abroad and terribly homesick, unable to sleep, and mocked by his teacher. That mockery leads the young scientist to do the unthinkable: poison the apple sitting on the teacher's desk. It's a risky way to introduce your main character, and Nolan is immediately signaling Oppenheimer's fractured mental state — he's brilliant but tormented, as if he's constantly trying to solve some problem in his overactive mind. From here, Nolan is off to the races, jumping in and out of two distinct timelines. The main timeline, shot in color, is told entirely from Oppenheimer's point of view, giving us the story as he saw it (or as Nolan, adapting the book "American Prometheus" by Kai Bird Martin J. Sherwin, imagined he saw it). 

The second timeline, filmed in black and white, zeroes in on another character: Lewis Strauss, the former U.S. Atomic Energy Commission chairman, as he undergoes a cabinet post hearing in the 1950s. Played by Robert Downey Jr., Strauss is our window into a different view of Oppenheimer; an outsider looking in. Downey Jr., who has been too busy with Marvel stuff to appear in many other movies (except "Dolittle"), is electric in the part, trading in his usual mannerisms for a more reserved, mysterious character. We can't quite crack what Strauss is about and why the film is focusing on him so much, and that's because Nolan is playing the long game. He'll get there eventually. 

After the splitting of the atom in 1932, Oppenheimer is one of the first to realize the possibility of using this advance to create a bomb. As it turns out, the Germans have the same idea and are apparently working on a bomb of their own. When America decides to build an atomic bomb, Oppenheimer badly wants on the team. But there's a problem — Oppenheimer is a leftist and an alleged Communist (he claims he never officially joined the party, but attended meetings). That's a big no-no for the U.S. Government, even before the red scare. Enter General Leslie Groves (a fiery, funny Matt Damon), a no-nonsense military man who is willing to overlook Oppenheimer's leanings in order to make him the leader of the entire project. 

All of this unfolds quickly, with Nolan cutting around and crafting fast little montages to show the passage of time. Ludwig Göransson's constant, propulsive, scary soundtrack booms and moans under it all, while Nolan adds abstract sounds that we can only understand later — a constant motif of what sounds like a roaring train turns out to actually be the stomping of feet from an audience right before Oppenheimer gives a big speech. 

Oppenheimer assembles a team and the building of the bomb begins. The film keeps this almost playful at first, especially as it introduces one new character after another, almost all of whom are played by recognizable faces. But as the deadline increases, the tension builds. By the time Nolan gets to the testing of the bomb, I found myself on edge, bouncing my leg and biting my thumbnail as the tension builds, and builds, and builds, until the only release can be an explosion of haunting, terrifying, obliterating beauty. 

Building the bomb is only one part of the movie. "Oppenheimer" also tells another story — the story of a man willing to allow himself to be pilloried. Like Jake LaMotta in "Raging Bull," Oppenheimer is stepping into a ring of sorts and allowing himself to be pummeled. Why? Because he thinks he deserves it. The aftermath of the bomb begins to horrify him, altering his perception and leading to his voicing his concerns about the future of weapons. This raises the eyebrows of the U.S. Government, and Oppenheimer finds himself under attack. His wife Katherine (a sadly underused Emily Blunt) urges her husband to push back, but he doesn't. He seemingly can't.

Who is Robert Oppenheimer? Nolan isn't interested in painting the man as a simple sinner or saint. The two timelines instead result in a far more complex, almost impenetrable character. We can root for him while also being resentful of some of his actions. Again: this is risky, but Nolan and Murphy make it work like gangbusters. Nolan's writing is good here, but it's Murphy's delicate, dedicated performance that really sells it all. He says a million words with only a glance. When he looks out at the world, his huge eyes seem sad, lonely, and also fixed on something we can't quite see. It's also telling that Nolan opens the film with a bit of text on screen about the story of Prometheus: Prometheus stole fire from the gods, and for his actions, he was chained to a rock for eternity.

Shot huge in IMAX, "Oppenheimer" feels massive. And yet it's also an intimate affair, full of scene after scene of men sitting in quiet rooms having loud conversations. We feel like flies on the wall, eavesdropping on history, waiting to see how the predestined situation plays out. We have an idea of where all of this is going, but we're captivated all the same, enamored with Nolan's narrative and Hoyte van Hoytema's frequently jaw-dropping cinematography — the bomb test scene is an all-timer, shot like a downright biblical event.

"Oppenheimer" is a huge, thrilling, scary experience. There are touches of lightness — it's not all misery, I promise. But what makes the movie sing is the way it drops a ton of information on us in such a succinct, exciting way. We hang on every word; we marvel at every shot. It's not just a movie, it's a spectacle. A film that asks tough questions and then dares to not give us any easy answers. Like Oppenheimer himself, it's a conflicting movie with an unknowable core. It's also one of the best movies of the year.

/Film Rating: 9.5 out of 10