Matt!’s review published on Letterboxd:
Dr. Oppenheimer or: How I Learned to Start Worrying and Fear the Bomb
I really, really hate biopics. In fact, I hate them so much that my buddy Chris called me up a while back and said, “I bet you I can make a 3-hour-long time-hopping biopic almost entirely comprised of men talking over one another and using science jargon and you will gleefully hold your piss while you sit back in utter bewilderment and gaze upon my spectacle of filmmaking perfection.” So I said fuck it, you’re on. And you know what? I won. Because I didn’t gleefully hold my piss—the bomb explosion scared me too much. I later apologized to the theater attendants who had to clean it up.
Astonishingly brilliant. One of the greatest ensemble performances of the century and quite possibly the most magnificent biopic of all time. Yeah, Nolan still can’t write female characters for shit and a lot of the dialogue feels like it’s just setting up those walloping iconic quotes that you’ll see hanging on posters in the dorm rooms of college freshmen nationwide, but it’s Christopher Nolan, people; the guy hasn’t changed in 25 years, so whine into the ether all you want—I’ll just be sitting here gasping at the fact that there’s zero CGI in the entire goddamn movie and appreciating how he made a three-hour theatrical release feel as informative, compelling, and morally philosophical as a 10-episode BBC miniseries.
Cillian Murphy’s deafening blue eyes are radiant vessels of innate human horror. Robert Downey Jr. had absolutely no need to continue acting post-Iron Man, but I guess he just really wanted that Oscar that Heath Ledger tragically stole from him after Tropic Thunder. Emily Blunt takes what little she’s given and turns it into a powerhouse role. Benny Safdie is nearly unrecognizable except for his unmistakably sweaty face. Matt Damon gets angry a couple times. And Florence Pugh: thank you. Nolan vs. Scorsese is going to be a fucking bloodbath at the Awards this year. Bring back oversized charcoal suits and small neckties.
Biggest surprises: Oppenheimer deliberately incinerating a Barbie doll in slow motion for five whole minutes during the second act, and Slim Pickens showing up to bull-ride the bomb into Nagasaki in the post-credits.
P.S. for any hockey fans out there: try to spot Sean Avery as a military dude for 3 seconds in a tent during the test prep scene. How that shitbag goon got a role in TWO Nolan flicks, I will never know.
