Nolan's film Oppenheimer when at its
best, is as good as cinema has ever been. I admit to writing this on the
anniversarary of the dropping of the first bomb on Japan, which I consider a war
crime and a human tragedy of the largest kind, as was the second bomb. I write
this post with great respect for those who died or suffered then, and I know
that the film itself seeks to expose, somehow, the sheer magnitude and moral
toxicity of this invention - one which, as the film shows, could have burnt
the whole world, not just Japan. Art can perhaps speak to the atrocities at
Nagasaki and Hiroshima, or avoid them. Nolan's film obliquely references the
horror - the inventor and the president both speak of guilt or innocence,
neither seems to inhabit the space to fully comprehend their crimes. So why make
a film about nuclear bombs, if the material is so powerful, so painful, so
irradiated with historic guilt and shame? I suppose because of ambition, a
desire to take on the largest themes and subjects, and do them justice. The
truth is, those interested in the story of Los Alamos, atomic bomb development,
nuclear spies, or the Teller H-Bomb, can find that in the BBC/PBS TV series from
1980, also titled Oppenheimer, or the many books, such as the one Nolan
bases his screenplay on, that cover the same irradiated ground. What Nolan has
done, in assembling the most stellar cast since Towering Inferno, or
perhaps, more aptly, Kramer's 1961 courtroom/war epic about overeaching evil,
Judgment at Nuremberg, is redefine what an epic biopic can be for an age
now expecting spectacle. He has taken the Marvel and DC universes, with their stars
and Quantum obsessions, and made them seriously adult. Certain of the scenes,
especially when Robert is a young poetry-reading scientist dishevelled in
Europe, or during the storm-swept build-up to the Trinity tests in New Mexico in
1945, or in the immediate aftermath during his sickening speech celebration,
thrum with a dynamic musical pulse,a stamping of feet, while the screen
threatens to break apart out of its atomic composure - the film itself trembles
with latent destruction. The audience is, yes, immersed (IMAX helps) in the
terrible beauty of the Atomic Age being born - the first moment humankind's
genius became capable of destroying our entire world - something most
film-makers' can only dream of.
The fearsome nature of this creative-destructive
hubris (Oppenheimer's mistress has an Eros and Thanatos issue herself we are
shown) is entirely aesthetiticized by the moviemakking process. The acting,
editing, direction, cinematography, location shooting, immaculate recreation of
older technology, score, are all impeccable, though the talky bits (despite
being witty and smart) can a few times drag. General Groves spent two billion, but
Nolan also assembles a crack team and spends a lot of money to establish the
analogy between the art of cinema and science of physics. Without descending
into Oscar gossip, which, like with Schindler's List, another historical
epic grappling with evil, seems besides the point, Murphy and Downey Jr, as well
as Blunt, are potential winners this year, but other actors shine, not least Matt
Damon, who has become the effortless everyman of American film much like Hanks.
In a few moments onscreen, the pure intensity of the experience is
remarkable, and raises the bar for other dramatic-historical films. This would
not make sense on TV - it needs to be observed, and experienced, like being the
famous cat in the experiment's box. You could see it on a small screen, but the
size and power of the energy assembled and released would be a lesser version.
The idea is to make a film as big as the subject - in this case the possible
invention of the end of the world, arguably the "biggest story ever told" if not
the greatest.
Movies about inventors and scientists have, in the past, done well
such as Madame Curie in 1943, 80 years ago (she won her Nobel for
her radioactive work). This film could establish a new form of cinema, one more
propulsive, and totalising. It is an exciting moment for Nolan, and for us,
despite the film's dire warnings, hints of human evil, and ultimate pathos and
horror. Can such material be responsibly transmuted in this way? Nolan seems to
provide a moral reply to that doubt, in the final minutes of the film - there is
something more important to speak about, after all...
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
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