‘Oppenheimer’ consists all the cinematic favorites you have come to expect in a Christopher Nolan masterpiece:

-non-linear scenes overlapping each other to confuse the general movie audience.

-loud over-the-top orchestra looped and dubbed over important dialogue.

-money-shot of main-character’s face looking guilty over something.

-a dozen establishing shots that were deliberately spliced on an IMAX screen.

-actors that worked in other Nolan’s films (excluding Michael Caine).

-characters that have philosophical debates about the existence of existing.

I am currently reading the tail-end of the book that inspired this film. So many ways to go about telling this story (including a mini-series). Instead, Nolan spent a weekend researching how ‘The Social Network,’ ‘A Beautiful Mind,’ and ‘The Theory of Everything,’ were written/directed – and wrote a screenplay that glosses over some key moments (good and bad) of Oppennheimer’s life.

And that’s okay. It’s about three hours worth of some deep ‘what were they fucking thinking’ questioning Nolan hopes the general audience will feast on after (or) before they indulge in pink celluloid.

All a sudden, the night turned into day, and it was tremendously bright, the chill turned into warmth; the fireball gradually turned from white to yellow to red as it grew in size and climbed into the sky; after about five seconds the darkness returned but with the sky and the air filled with a purple glow, just as though we were surrounded by an aurora borealis…We stood there in awe as the blast wave picked up chunks of dirt from the desert soil and soon passed us by.“

Joe Hirschfelder

I am not a fan of the tumblr changes. 

And perhaps it was also reassuring, particularly for an intellectual, that Robert could tell himself that it was a book - and not a psychiatrist - which had helped to wrench him from the black hole of his depression

Kai Bird/Martin J. Sherwin

My feelings about myself was always one of extreme discontent. I had very little sensitiveness to human beings, very little humility before the realities of this world.

J. Robert Oppenheimer

Harding realized what was happening. The first trailer was dangling straight down the cliff face, swinging freely in space. But it was still connected to the second trailer, up on the clearing. The first trailer now hung from the accordion connector. And the tyrannosaurs, up above, were now pushing the second trailer off the cliff.

Michael Crichton

Rain started to fall; water dripped from the shards of glass. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning cracked harshly down, illuminating the giant animals as they moved away.

Michael Crichton

8-)

Suddenly, one of the tyrannosaurs burst from the trees in the road ahead. The animal stood there, snarling, blocking the road.

Michael Crichton

All your life people will tell you things. And most of the time, probably ninety-five percent of the time, what they’ll tell you will be wrong.

Michael Crichton

This island existed as a kind of lost world, isolated in the midst of the Pacific Ocean.

Michael Crichton

Grant looked back just once, and saw the island against a deep purple sky and sea, cloaked in the deep mist that blurred the white-hot explosions that burst rapidly, one after another, until it seemed the entire island was glowing, a diminishing bright spot in the darkening night.

Michael Crichton

Tim found the silence chilling.

The velcoiraptor was six feet tall, and powerfully built, although its strong legs and tail were hidden by the tables. Tim could see only the muscular upper torso, the two forearms held tightly alongside the body, the claws dangling. He could see the iridescent speckled pattern of the back. The velociraptor was alert; as it came forward, it looked from side to side, moving its head with abrupt, bird-like jerks. The head also bobbed up and down as it walked, and the long straight tail dipped, which heightened the impression of a bird.

A gigantic silent bird of prey.

The dinning room was dark, but apparently the raptor could see well enough to move steadily forward. From time to time, it would bend over, lowering its head below the tables. Tim heard a rapid sniffing sound. Then the head would snap up, alertly, jerking back and forth like a bird’s.

Michael Crichton

He crept forward to the kitchen door and looked out.

In the darkened dining room, he saw the orderly green rectangular pattern of the tabletops. And moving smoothly among them, silent as a ghost for the hissing of its breath, was a velociraptor.

Michael Crichton