A NEWSLETTER FROM DAVID CORN |
A NEWSLETTER FROM DAVID CORN |
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“Oppenheimer”: A Masterwork With a Missing Piece |
By David Corn July 25, 2023 |
Cillian Murphy as the physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer. Courtesy of Universal Studios |
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With Oppenheimer, director Christopher Nolan has created one of the best movies in film history, despite its flaws. His study of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the scientist who led the project to develop a weapon that could annihilate the entirety of human civilization, is a fascinating exploration of a man who changed everything and who, quite rightly, had trouble adjusting to the new reality he created for the world and for himself. And with this flick, Nolan compels us to ponder a fact of life that haunted Oppenheimer after Trinity, the first successful test of an atomic bomb, held in the desert near the secret town that served as the headquarters of the Manhattan Project: We are doomed unless we find a way to limit the destructive power he helped to unleash.
Nolan interweaves, as you would expect, multiple narratives that crisscross time. There’s the hush-hush Oppenheimer-guided rush during World War II to build the A-bomb before the Nazis could unlock the immense power of enriched uranium. There’s the postwar, McCarthyistic investigation of Oppenheimer in 1954 that focused on his prewar associations with commies, his liberal views, and his opposition to pursuing the hydrogen bomb. And there’s the tale of Lewis Strauss, a chair of the Atomic Energy Commission and Oppenheimer foe, who President Dwight Eisenhower nominates as commerce secretary and whose 1959 confirmation hearings are shaped by his personal vendetta against Oppenheimer. With a dazzling pace, the movie skips back and forth between these chronologies, treating them, in Nolanesque fashion, as different dimensions.
The movie is based on the excellent Pulitzer Prize–winning biography American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin Sherwin. (Connection declared: Bird has been a friend for four decades, and eons ago we shared an apartment in New York City.) It’s been a while since I’ve read the book. Consequently, I cannot say what details are dead-on accurate and which derive from dramatic license. Yet Bird and Sherwin offered Nolan plenty of clay to carve into a masterpiece, including the psychological burden Oppenheimer bore for placing human existence on a short fuse and the perfidious crusade mounted by conniving Cold Warriors against a scientist and public intellectual who (after enabling the initial use of nuclear weapons) advocated international cooperation (even with Moscow!) to stop the advance of this weaponry.
Cillian Murphy is captivating as Oppenheimer, oozing angst and moral ambiguity (including in his personal life), as he literally carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s a stunning performance. The movie is him—though the rest of the star-studded cast (Matt Damon, Robert Downey Jr., Florence Pugh, Kenneth Branagh, Emily Blunt, Josh Hartnett, Casey Affleck, Rami Malek, and everyone else) carry their parts well, as to not let Murphy completely run away with the movie. The directing, editing, sound editing, cinematography (those New Mexican landscapes!), set designs, special effects, and every other component are exquisite.
Yet there are flaws. The narrative structure of Oppenheimer is too tightly tethered to Strauss’ confirmation hearing. This does afford Nolan the opportunity to set up a diabolical villain. After all, Oppenheimer cannot be the bad guy—not as the lead character in a three-hour film. Still, the Strauss plot seems forced. And in a few spots Nolan gets too artsy, such as when he depicts Oppenheimer naked as he sits for an interview with the board trying to yank away his security clearance. But none of this detracts from the film’s ambition and brilliance.
Oppenheimer covers a key and still debated matter: Should the United States have dropped these bombs on Hiroshima and then Nagasaki, killing 100,000 to 200,000 people, most civilians? (We don’t have exact numbers for the death count.) The film portrays the actions of conscientious scientists developing the bomb who ardently opposed its use. (Oppenheimer was not part of the group.) And in one scene, Truman administration officials discuss the decision to bomb Hiroshima. Maybe there ought to be a demonstration first that might compel the Japanese to surrender? (But what if that bomb were a dud?) Maybe the population of the target city should be warned? (That would give the Japanese a chance at stopping the plane carrying the bomb.) Of course, imagine all the American lives lost if the US military were forced to invade Japan to end the war.
But Nolan’s rendering of the debate is too constrained. As my friend Greg Mitchell, a journalist and author who has written extensively on the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, notes, Oppenheimer leaves out key historical facts that raise questions about the necessity of deploying the atomic bomb to end the war—and the necessity of dropping the second one on Nagasaki. “Many historians today believe that if Truman had waited just three days after Hiroshima for the Soviets to enter the war as the US insisted,” he points out, “the Japanese would likely have surrendered in about the same time frame.” Mitchell also observes that there is no mention in the film that 85 percent of the dead at Hiroshima and Nagasaki were civilians.
One scene that addresses this Big Question highlights the arbitrary nature of warfare and underscores the immorality of bombing civilian sites. As Oppenheimer and government officials discuss the possible target cities in Japan for the first A-bomb, Secretary of War Henry Stimson strikes Kyoto from the list. He explains that it is an important cultural center for Japan and that he and his wife honeymooned there.
So Hiroshima it is—and here’s where the film hits a serious problem. After the bombing, Oppenheimer presents us no images of the devastation. Neither does it put on screen what was wrought at Nagasaki a few days later. We see the troops, scientists, and workers at Los Alamos celebrate the “success” at Hiroshima. But nada for the tragedy on the other side of the Pacific. My hunch is that Nolan and his team thought long and hard about this decision. Did they believe that gruesome footage would stand as too much of an indictment of Oppenheimer and undercut the audience’s sympathy for him? Might it be too overwhelming for multiplex-goers? But this move is reminiscent of the actions that Hollywood and the US government took decades ago to suppress the most shocking images of Hiroshima. (Mitchell detailed this in a recent documentary called Atomic Cover-Up.) The absence of the Japanese dead in Oppenheimer reinforces their position as the Other.
After the blast at Hiroshima, Oppenheimer addresses applauding and cheering scientists at Los Alamos, and as he speaks, for a moment, he imagines incinerated bodies before him in the auditorium. Later, he attends a presentation where slides are shown of the horrors found in the carnage—such as bodies with clothes burnt into what was once skin. But we in the audience are spared these grisly sights. We only see the dread in Murphy’s eyes. This is a painful moment, but it is not the same as being exposed to what Oppenheimer is viewing. This close-up shot focuses not on the abomination at Hiroshima and Nagasaki but on what it means for Oppenheimer.
The point of Nolan’s enthralling movie—to be damn scared of nuclear weapons today—is important. We do not talk enough about this ever-present threat to humanity and the dire need for more arms control and a path to nuclear disarmament. Oppenheimer does raise other issues, most notably the moral responsibility of scientists who pursue world-changing technology, a relevant matter these days as we enter the era of AI. But Message No. 1 is that Oppenheimer’s work put us on a path to self-extinction. That’s how Nolan’s Oppenheimer, who throughout the movie has visions of nuclear apocalypse, views his much-hailed accomplishment.
Decades ago, I was a founding editor of Nuclear Times, a publication that covered arms control topics at a time when the nuclear freeze movement was calling for a sharp reduction in nuclear forces. (Mitchell was the editor.) During my two-year stint there, I frequently experienced nightmares that included nuclear explosions. It was not easy to contemplate this stuff on a daily basis. And I burnt out on the issue. (These days I sympathize with climate scientists and journalists.)
I know how tough it is to focus attention on this weighty matter. I salute Nolan for applying his star power and massive talents to this noble endeavor. It’s been years since a major cultural work forced us to confront this profound existential challenge. Oppenheimer’s dread should be all of ours. Would showing the Japanese victims—what we all could become—have been too much? It certainly would have honored them. And it would have reminded us that, as potential casualties in a nuclear conflagration, we have more in common with these hundreds of thousands of incinerated and radiated human beings than we do with the man who put us all at risk.
Got anything to say about this item—or anything else? Email me at ourland@motherjones.com. |
Wait, Wait…I’m on a Different News Quiz Show. |
As an adult, I have had two recurring dreams. One is that I must return to college for a semester to finally graduate. This dream needs fact-checking. Though I left Brown University after my junior year and did not return, I took courses at Columbia University for a semester (while I was working at the Nation magazine) and transferred the credits to Brown to earn my diploma. Yet my psyche still seems haunted by that missed senior year and yearns to reclaim that experience.
The other dream that repeats is that I am on Saturday Night Live. As a host, guest, regular player, or writer. It doesn’t occur too often. But every once in a while, there I am, onstage at 30 Rock or part of the writing staff offstage. Best of all, I get to attend the cast party afterward. Is this a sign I missed—or, deep down, think I missed—my true calling? Any therapists out there want to weigh in? (And Lorne Michaels, I’m still available.)
I am not sure comedy was my destiny. But years ago, I attempted stand-up. I mainly did so because at the time I wanted to take a stab at something frightening that would knock me out of my comfort zone. And it is rather scary to go up before an audience and try to make them laugh. My first time, I could hear everyone in the crowd saying to themselves, So what makes you think you’re funny? That outing was a disaster. But I kept at it—mainly doing events that featured DC figures and real comics doing bits to benefit this or that nonprofit—and I learned a lot about this difficult art form. I even improved and had a few successful gigs during which people I didn’t know laughed loudly at my jokes.
It's been a while since I’ve done that. And I jumped at the chance when I was recently asked to be part of a new Audible podcast called Let’s Get Quizzical. It’s a news quiz—think NPR’s Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me!—that each week pits a journalist against a comic. The aim is to produce an entertaining and funny show—not an informative and comprehensive briefing on the week’s events—and my sparring partner was Jo Firestone, a talented comedian.
Asked to recount the funniest news story I’ve ever covered, I had to say I’d never covered a funny story. (Area man gets head trapped in mayonnaise jar!) Instead, I recounted one of the most fun moments I've had as a journalist. That came when I and two colleagues, James Ridgeway and Dan Schulman, uncovered an NRA mole who had penetrated several gun safety groups. Her name was Mary Lou Sapone, but she used her maiden name—Mary McFate—when she burrowed her way into the gun control organizations. I called the phone number Mary McFate had provided her allies in the gun safety movement and asked for Mary Lou Sapone. The woman who answered said, “This is she.” Aha! We had her. Is this also the Mary McFate who works with various gun safety groups? I inquired. She gasped and hung up. The next day, we were told, she left her Florida home for Belize. (Here’s the story.)
I will admit that on Let’s Get Quizzical I worried about losing to a comic. Though I cover the news, defeat was a distinct possibility, given that under the rules of this game, you receive points for correct answers and funny answers. I’m not going to spoil the suspense. But I can report this was an enjoyable break from the usual media hits I do. And I got to be—or got the chance to try to be—amusing. In any event, I think I will keep my day job.
The episode came out on Friday. You must be an Audible subscriber to listen. But you can always sign up for a free trial, listen to the show, and then decide whether to remain onboard. Let me know what you think of my performance. |
The Our Land Zoom Meeting Report |
Last week, we had an Our Land Zoom get-together. Scores of premium subscribers to this newsletter from Florida to Alaska—and points in between—gathered to gab. We talked about the big news of the day (Donald Trump had received a target letter in the January 6 criminal federal investigation), shared stories of recent encounters with extreme weather, and peered into the future of American politics. We laughed. We cried. We muted. It was fun to interact with subscribers, the folks who make this publication possible. I hear attendees had a good time tossing questions at me and meeting their fellow Our Landers. We shall do this again soon—probably after we’re all done summering. If you’d like to join the in-crowd, make sure to sign up as a premium subscriber at www.davidcorn.com. See you in September!
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Summertime, and the Livin’ Is…. |
Are you old enough to remember when life slowed down during summer? Before the internet came along and before the news cycle went nuts, we could enjoy the hazy, lazy days of July and August. Many businesses and enterprises shifted to summer hours. The publishing world had Summer Fridays, during which employees were allowed to leave early or take the entire day off. Various magazines produced fewer issues during this stretch, often publishing combined issues.
At the Nation, where I worked for many years, we went from a weekly to a biweekly schedule for the summer. With no website (which was then unimaginable), there was much less space to fill and no outlet for all those brilliant ideas or scoops that couldn’t be accommodated in the fewer issues we produced. There were days when I had little, if any, work to do. No emails to check. No social media posts to post. My to-do list would be done long before 5 p.m. During those summers, I would catch up on my reading and take long lunches (and long meetings at bars) to check-in with friends and associates and develop sources. Weekends at the beach were uninterrupted by text messages and notifications on a phone. It was grand. Those two months could be relaxing and rejuvenating.
We get no such breaks now from the chaotic news cycle and unrelenting pace of life. Still, I’m going to try. Over the next few weeks, I intend to throttle back on the number of Our Land issues produced. I may even skip a week or two (oh my!) or send out a previous issue that still has relevance. (Do you recall summer reruns?) As I head out of town for a few weeks, things are too busy to sort out exactly what the production schedule will be. But you’ll still be hearing from me. I hope you’re enjoying the summer—and not burdened or imperiled by the extreme weather brought to us by climate change—and able to capture a dash of the carefreeness that many of us once associated with the longer days of the year.
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The Watch, Read, and Listen List
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Jaune Quick-to-See Smith, Whitney Museum of American Art. On the weekend that Barbie opened, I was visiting the Whitney Museum of American Art in downtown Manhattan. The headline exhibition was a retrospective of Jaune Quick-to-See Smith, one of the most prominent Native American artists. At 83 years old, Smith, a member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, has for nearly half a century been producing artwork that explores the history of indigenous people, the identity of American Indians, and the relationship between the First Americans and US culture. As the Whitney puts it, “Employing satire and humor, Smith’s art tells stories that flip commonly held conceptions of historical narratives and illuminate absurdities in the formation of dominant culture.” One example: a drawing that juxtaposes a stern-looking Gen. George Custer and a large pipe that bears the words, “Ceci n’est pas une peace pipe”—a play on Magritte’s famous painting.
Much of Smith’s work blends Native American symbology with modern imagery, and she loves to play with maps of the United States, which, when you think of it, are perhaps a short-cut explanation of the tragic American conquest.
But back to Barbie. In a satirical 1991 piece titled “Paper Dolls for a Post-Columbian World With Ensembles Contributed by the US Government,” Smith presents drawings of mostly naked paper dolls named Barbie Plenty Horses and Ken Plenty Horses alongside drawings of various outfits that can be attached to them. One costume is named “Maid’s uniform for cleaning houses of white people after good education at Jesuit school.” Another is called “Special outfit for trading land with the US government for whiskey with gunpowder in it.” A third is “Suit for receiving US gov’t rations when not allowed to hunt and gather own food.” These are a good example of her merger of wit and poignancy.
I haven’t watched Barbie yet. (But I intend to.) Thus, I don’t know if there is a Native American Barbie in the movie. I do see that Mattel in 1994 released a Native American Barbie as part of its “Dolls of the World” collection. A few years before that, Smith deftly used this American icon to illustrate an American horror. |
Jaune Quick-to-See Smith,
Paper Dolls for a Post-Columbian World with Ensembles Contributed by the US Government, 1991. Watercolor and graphite pencil on xerographic paper copies, thirteen parts: 17 × 11 in. (43.2 × 27.9 cm) each. Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art, Indianapolis; museum purchase from the Eiteljorg Fellowship for Native American Fine Art in honor of Gail Kirchner for her commitment to Native American artists and the Eiteljorg Museum 1999.9.3. © Jaune Quick-to-See Smith. Photograph courtesy the artist and Garth Greenan Gallery, New York.
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Jaune Quick-to-See Smith, “Indian Map,” 1992. Oil, paper, newspaper, and fabricon canvas, two panels: 64×96 in. (162.6× 243.8cm) overall. Private collection. © Jaune Quick-to-See Smith. Photograph by David Bowers. |
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July 18, 2023: RFK Jr.’s antisemitic lunacy; George Santos and Miles Guo—a Trumpland love story; the current relevance of the 1965 Night of Camp David; and more. July 15, 2023: RFK. Jr.: Should we give a damn?; Dumbass Comment of the Week (Lawrence Summers); the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more. July 11, 2023: Don’t forget Rudy Giuliani was a Russia disinformation stooge; Elliott Abrams, again; the tantalizing Silo; Chrissie Hynde as Frank Sinatra; and more.
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June 27, 2023: When lying doesn’t matter (including John Durham’s testimony); Hightown, a crime drama that explores the underside of Cape Cod; and more. June 24, 2023: Why Jack Smith must go farther; Dumbass Comment of the Week (the Trump and DeSantis war rooms); the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more. |
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Got suggestions, comments, complaints, tips related to any of the above, or anything else? Email me at ourland@motherjones.com. |
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