In a quote often attributed to Martin Luther, the 16th-century reformer argues that “the Christian shoemaker does his duty not by putting little crosses on the shoes, but by making good shoes, because God is interested in good craftsmanship.” To him, quality work is more reflective of our Creator than a cheap nod to the divine. Despite its religious message, this quote can be easily applied to American culture, especially the film industry. Applied in this context, the quote could plausibly read: “The American filmmaker does his duty not by simply putting overt cultural messages in his films, but by making good films, because the public is interested in good craftsmanship.”
This past July, the American public was gifted such a film in Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer, the much-anticipated thriller biopic about the titular “Father of the Atomic Bomb” – and honorary Princetonian – J. Robert Oppenheimer. The film shows the quote’s sentiment to be true. At its core, Nolan’s epic is a good film. It is technically incredible, narratively tight, and emotionally intense.
In a summer dominated by talk of Bud Light, Jason Aldean, and Disney, the three-hour epic has provided a much-needed détente from the onslaught of the culture war. The film doesn’t seek to sacrifice art for ideology. It doesn’t seek to be a sermon or diatribe. It simply aims to be a great movie, and it triumphs in that pursuit. As much as some conservatives critique Hollywood – and as much as some look to alternative platforms like The Daily Wire and Fox Nation for “conservative” content – Oppenheimer is a movie that only Hollywood could make. That’s not to absolve Hollywood of all its cultural sins, but it’s to give credit where credit is due.
Although dealing explicitly with political events, Oppenheimer has been minimally radioactive (no pun intended) in the broader American culture. It has been lauded for its technical feats – including the exclusive use of 65mm film, IMAX cameras, and practical effects – and the depth of its performances, especially Cillian Murphy’s Oscar-worthy portrayal of the titular protagonist. Although it rehashed decades-old debates about nuclear proliferation and the American bombing of Japan, it has not sparked the same repetitive, shallow culture war debates to which the American public has become so accustomed. No widespread talk of “wokeness” or “elite conspiracy” accompanied the film’s release. It has managed to remain above the political fray, being judged primarily on the basis of artistic merit. Much of this owes to the film’s quality.
In 70mm IMAX, Oppenheimer jumped off the screen. When Nolan depicted short bursts of nuclear fission, it felt like I was swimming in a sea of subatomic particles. When the film’s protagonist walked with a Princeton professor through the East Pyne courtyard, it felt as though I were right there with them, taking a daily walk to class. And, when the bomb unleashed its power upon the New Mexico desert, it felt like I was engulfed by an orange wall of nuclear flame, jumping in my seat from the thundering crack of the blast’s shockwave. It was these moments of immersive grandeur that elevated Oppenheimer from a film into an experience. Each shot, sequence, and sound matched the gravity of the historical moment it portrayed.
The film’s biggest moment is not, however, where the story ends. After the “gadget” is detonated at White Sands, the story enters its hour-long final act. In its final stretch of runtime, the film’s two main narratives are whittled down to their bare parts, following the Senate confirmation hearings of Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.) in the former and J. Robert Oppenheimer’s secret security clearance hearings in the latter. Both are explicitly and intensely political. However, they never seem to be the most important events in the movie. When compared to the threat of nuclear war, these inquisitions pale in comparison.
At the end of the film, Lewis Strauss’s Senate aide (Alden Ehrenreich) informs him that the Senate has denied his confirmation for Commerce Secretary. His life’s goal has been thwarted, and he believes Oppenheimer is to blame, chiefly for turning the scientific community against him. Recalling a conversation he witnessed between Oppenheimer and Albert Einstein beside a pond at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, Strauss becomes convinced that the two men were talking about him. In a stunning moment, his aide rebukes this theory, simply asking him:
“Is it possible they didn’t talk about you at all? Is it possible that they spoke about something more important?”
The film ends with this conversation, which until this point was hinted at but never shown. As it turns out, the two men were discussing something more important than Lewis Strauss. The “starting gun” of the Cold War has fissioned into the large-scale proliferation of nuclear weapons. Oppenheimer’s bomb has indeed caused a chain reaction, but not the one he had imagined. He is left envisioning the world he has created, haunted by images of global destruction. After the credits roll, no ubiquitous post-credit scene follows. We, and our world, are the post-credit scene. In this vein, Oppenheimer should point us – at least partially – away from the culture war and towards the greater threats which lie on the horizon.
As Christopher Nolan mentioned in promotional interviews, the film can serve as a cautionary tale for a world confronting rapidly developing technologies, particularly artificial intelligence. Like nuclear weapons, these technologies have the potential to give us “the power to destroy ourselves,” requiring significant ethical inquiries into the types of advancements we will allow ourselves to make.
Another threat exists in China’s rising influence in the global sphere. This second threat will require all the strength our country can muster, especially in terms of cultural output. Among other things, these past few weeks have been a great reminder of America’s soft power. Our cultural exports are still some of our most valuable, with American IP raking in billions worldwide and exerting influence in every market it touches. In the two weeks since its release, Oppenheimer has grossed over half a billion dollars globally, making it the highest-grossing World War II film ever made. Along with economic benefits, this success boosts international knowledge of American culture and history. Just as history is said to be written by the victors, so too is national reputation. If we continue to remind the world of all we have done for it, we are more likely to wield persuasive power alongside our military strength.
A look to history proves this true. America’s great-power conflict with the Soviet Union may have been started by Oppenheimer’s atomic bomb, but it was ended largely by America’s cultural and economic might. If we want to deal economic defeats to China and deter other nations from aligning with its interests, we must continue to support our cultural sector, even if it sometimes produces content some deem unimportant or counterproductive.
All of this to say, Oppenheimer has been a national and global success. At its core, it was a good film. Christopher Nolan performed his duty to the audience – and the country – in admirable fashion, and the result is a movie that will be cherished for many years to come. It was a triumph for both casual viewers and film enthusiasts alike, equal parts stunning and profound. For a few weeks, Oppenheimer has allowed Americans to turn their attention away from their phone screen and toward the silver screen. It has given us common figures and moments from our past to connect over, devoid of the guilt mongering that has recently accompanied discussions of American history. It has made the summer blockbuster great again, achieving a unifying moment in pop culture we have not seen in years. In culture, as in nuclear physics, bringing things together is more powerful than tearing things apart. Ultimately, fusion yields more energy than fission. In both style and substance, the film embodied the Senate aide’s quote. It really did feel like something more important.
The above is an opinion contribution and reflects the author’s views alone.
(image credit: Universal Studios)
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