By Matt Dinn

Christopher Nolan’s fascination with brilliant but tortured souls finds a resoundingly effective prism through the point of view of J. Robert Oppenheimer. Following the ambitious but unfocused Tenet, Nolan’s follow-up is a far more satisfying endeavor that shows Nolan displays a revelatory maturity in dealing with the messy moral quandary Oppenheimer (played by Cillian Murphy) finds himself entangled in. The film, structurally, is similar to much of Nolan’s prior work, where chronological timelines overlap. However, what has occasionally felt like an ill-fitting formal conceit in the director’s past work, here feels both finely attuned to his lead character’s unenviable plight and the dueling perspectives and conflicts which create the indelible tension Oppenheimer’s eventual creation, accentuated by the propulsive editing from Jennifer Lame, builds. Carrying the weight of a three-hour film in which you appear in almost every frame is daunting. Still, when you compound that with the seemingly unbearable moral tension, Oppenheimer is forced to endure, it becomes ostensibly impossible. Somehow, Cillian Murphy finds a way to navigate through this kaleidoscope in one of the great screen performances of recent memory. Great performers can convey an actor’s internal life; since Oppenheimer is often forced to get an external life in contradiction to his inner thought process and emotions, it is contingent on Murphy finding a way to let us in. He does, and Nolan owes him everything for it. The supporting cast is arguably more profound than any of Nolan’s films. Still, the lion’s share of the attention will undeniably go to Robert Downey Jr.’s slippery performance as Lewis Strauss in a performance that slowly reveals itself and contains the type of multitudes which serve as a welcome reminder of the complicated and accomplished character work the actor is capable of. The film is all the more hauntingly effective for what it chooses to obscure. Nolan’s long been fascinated by but often needs help to reflect accurately the synergy between and connects to the large and small. A sequence in a gymnasium suggests so much while showing absolutely nothing of it. It is absolutely and unmistakably the type of operatic filmmaking Nolan is known for, but this time feels simultaneously intimate and accurate to the rhythms of his Oppy. For better or worse, his ability to see a world beyond what exists forever changed ours. [A]