

Nolan aptly synthesizes the momentum of these men and their ideas, creating a heady sense of the world suddenly spinning at a precarious new tilt. That relentless pace is thrilling and tiring at once. There is some moral justification for the science, then, if not the implementation of its output. Of course, the circumstances of Oppenheimer’s day were dire: The Nazis were working on their own atomic project, and the Allied forces rightfully feared what Hitler and his gang might do with that power if they were to achieve it before the Americans. That is the sorry horror at the center of Oppenheimer’s story: that his particular genius, his avid and productive curiosity about the nature of life and its surroundings, could be fashioned into a weapon. Oppenheimer and his cohort cracked open human understanding of the universe, a big bang expansion of thought that was, inevitably, almost immediately harnessed for the purposes of destruction. He was a pioneer in the nascent field of quantum physics, which meant that, in essence, he really was envisioning another plane of existence: the molecular jumble that makes up all matter, governed by rules and properties we still don’t entirely understand.

Oppenheimer, as described in the film (which Nolan adapted from the Pulitzer-winning biography American Prometheus), was plagued by visions of a world just beyond our own. Robert Oppenheimer, the so-called father of the atomic bomb, a perfect subject for Nolan’s first venture into fact-based character drama. (He’s also made some Batman movies.) Which perhaps makes J. His 2017 war film, Dunkirk, dealt with real things, but Nolan’s work has largely been less about people than about the spectacle swirling around them, the awe and terror they experience as reality bends and new consciousness blooms. The director Christopher Nolan has never told a true story.
