Noah Cassidy’s review published on Letterboxd:
We've walked through fire together.
Whenever I think there's the slight chance that I'm rewatching this movie too many times, several moments come along that remind me just how much I do love this thing. I'd even say that this is the first viewing I've had of the film where it didn't feel like its three hour length. It's kind of funny to find something this dour and existential to be something of a "comfort" to spend time with, though I guess that's probably what one would want out of their favorite movie, right? On this viewing (which now ties this film with Scorpio Rising and Only God Forgives as the film I've seen the most since joining Letterboxd; which one will get to ten viewings first?) I was really struck with the mix of unspoken and quietly whispered concerns about the concept of building the bomb. When it's announced in the newspaper that the atom has been split, and Alvarez is able to recreate the effect himself, Oppie almost immediately says in so many words that "us and every other physicist in the world" are thinking about the use of this for a weapon. I'm not quite sure how much it is touching on some innate morbid curiosity about how new steps in the sciences can be used for nefarious means, or a sign of cynicism and some bit of carelessness in the assumptions of others. Is everyone so set on destroying the world? However you want to further investigate that, it's all of course tied together at the end, with the concept that as we as a collective process our own sins and the sins of our country, there can be the tendency to "forgive" so long as it's at its core about really just forgiving one's self. I think I've spoken about it before, but for as grim and emotionally heavy as this movies goes about its subject matter, I do not think it's a hopeless movie. We do see gestures of kindness, of consideration, and of trying to see people in a three-dimensional way. We aren't all wanting to build the bomb, so even if we may very well be doomed to the end of the world, that doesn't mean life should stop. For the past few times I've rewatched this movie, I've paid attention to what I thought was a change in the color or pattern of Oppie's hat during the very end. It only took nine viewings, but I finally figured out what's going on there: Out of frame, amid perfectly blue skies, the drops we were seeing in front of him and Einstein on the pond are starting to drop on his hat. In a film that does a stellar job of going back and forth between subtleties and just daring to say or show what it wants to, this is a nice little final touch to how tortured Oppie is, and how much of that anguish can be laid at his own doing. As Kitty asks him through tears, did Robert really think that if he was put through enough, they would be willing to forgive him? Well, he can't forgive himself, and as was stated earlier, any other forgiveness from others may be insincere at best. Again, a dour movie at its core, but man do I love it. I would maybe reconsider if this is my concrete answer for the "best" film ever made, but it sure does seem like for the indefinite future, it will remain my favorite. The loud droning of Ludwig's score should become a go-to soundtrack for whenever I'm writing; scripts, reviews, and otherwise.
10/10
