Oppenheimer: Random Thoughts Stimulated by This Explosive Film

Here are some thoughts I had this past week pertaining to the release of Oppenheimer, the film.

I once heard the following advice for public speakers: It's better to be ten minutes too short than two minutes too long. If you go too long, even by a little, that will be all that the listeners will remember.

I suspect that this is why many people brace themselves when they hear that a film they want to see is three hours in length. (I kept thinking of Gilligan's Island beforehand--"a three hour tour.") Fortunately, the film's frequently intense pacing and storytelling never gave me a boring moment.

The media was awash with pre-release hype surrounding the release of Barbie and Oppenheimer on the same weekend. I'm sure much of that hype was masterfully generated by Hollywood itself, since neither of these blockbusters was cheap to produce. Some of the excitement surrounding these films may have in part been due to the fact that we were being treated to original work and not sequels to previous "hits." 

I went with three older friends to see the film last Tuesday. All three made a negative comment about the volume/noise level interfering with some of the the dialogue. Two of them also noted they wanted to see it a second time when it comes out on DVD so they can read the captions. In short, like myself, they liked the film, found it powerful and despite the complexity of jumping back and forth in time, gave director Christopher Nolan high marks for this achievement.

It's a story with two threads. First is the manner in which the development of the atomic bomb came together. The second, woven throughout, is the deeper dive into Oppenheimer's private life and the post-war hearings that were conducted in an effort to destroy the credibility and legacy of a scientist who had become Time magazine's Man of the Year. In short, the film jumped back and forth between the investigation of 1953 and the years preceding and leading up to Los Alamos, Hiroshima and Nagasaki. 

Flashbacks are not an uncommon device in movies or novels. For those who do not have a strong background in literature or film, I can imagine that it may have been easy to get lost. Then again, none of the men I was with had that problem. The 8.7 rating on imdb.com would indicate that most people who saw it this week were not fazed by it. Here'e a review excerpt that underscores the same point:

You'll have to have your wits about you and your brain fully switched on watching Oppenheimer as it could easily get away from a non-attentive viewer. This is intelligent filmmaking which shows its audience great respect. It fires dialogue packed with information at a relentless pace and jumps to very different times in Oppenheimer's life continuously through its 3 hour runtime.

The Communism Theme
(Spoiler Alert) The orchestrated character assassination of Oppenheimer the man took place during the McCarthy era. This context was clearly shown in the film. What has also been clearly shown in many other films is how extensively the Communist party had infiltrated the corridors of power in New York, Washington DC and Hollywood in the 30's.

What I almost never see in films is HOW this ideology became so popular or influential.  

For example, here in the Northland and Canada 10,000 Finns left America and migrated to the Soviet Union to be part of the mythological utopia that was being created there. Why? Because for ten years preceding WWII America's economy was a disaster. During the "Great Depression" unemployment was  as high as 25%. This was perceived as a failure of Capitalism. Marxist communism seemed to be the shining beacon of hope for a time. Communism's shortcomings would only be revealed later, but I think it useful to consider these things in the light of that broader decade of hardship.  (See my review of Mr. Jones.)

* * * 

There were a lot of great lines in the film.  Many of them were explosive statements made in passing. This one by Oppenheimer shows that he'd thought more deeply about the implications of the bomb than others. "They won't fear it until they understand it. And they won't understand it until they've used it. Theory will take you only so far."

Another message expressed in the film that stood out was this: Politics is an ugly business. Exercising great restraint, Nolan crafts a film in keeping with the storyteller's dictum "show, don't tell." 

If the frenetic pace of the film feels overwhelming at times, think of the pressure these scientists were under while racing against the clock to get it done.  

As for the acting: solid to exceptional across the board. There will be Oscar nominations and probably some winners as well. 

In short, it's a film worth seeing, and worth talking about afterwards with friends.

An Oppenheimer Anecdote That Adds Another Dimension to How We See the World

Based on the buzz, the film Oppenheimer appears set to be one of a number of much anticipated summer blockbusters. As it turns out, the opening story in my book Unremembered Histories involves the race to build the bomb. It concludes with an anecdote about Robert J. Oppenheimer. 

After I see the film I will share my impressions in a review. In the meantime, here's my original story.

Two Acts That Changed the World  

Of the dozen or so German physicists who had been assigned the task of building a super-bomb for Germany, Wilhelm Kurtweil more than any knew the consequences for humanity should the Nazis become the first to achieve this ultimate quest. Kurtweil had been a leading voice in German physics before the war, was now a respected scientist in the twilight years of a fabulous career.

For him personally, Nazism was an odious blight on the German peoples, but he had remained silent, hoping against hope that the dark season would pass and German character would rise above its brutal cancer. In 1942 he lost this hope.

The super-bomb project was in full swing. The Nazis already dominated Europe. England was about to fall.

His worst fear of all: that the project would succeed and his name be forever associated with its success in bringing the world to its knees at Hitler's feet.

In November he began praying for divine intervention. He did not believe in God, but not knowing where else to turn and hoping that he was wrong, he prayed that God would give him wisdom. The following week he conceived in a dream, visualized with perfect clarity, the formulation for the Atomic Bomb. It was so perfect, so brilliantly conceived, and remarkably clever. He woke in a sweat. With his mind overstimulated he spent the rest of that night hastily scratching notes on scraps of paper. For three successive nights he worked out the details, occasionally catching fitful moments of sleep to sustain his strength.

On the fourth night, he saw clearly the two actions he must take. First, he must find a way to undermine -- without drawing suspicion -- the efforts of his fellow scientists. And second, he must find a way to communicate his findings to the American scientists whom he knew to be actively pursuing the same designs.

The first task was easy enough. He saw clearly that the labyrinthian formula was built on a series of equations which flowed with a counterintuitive divergence from logic at several critical points. How he had seen this so plainly baffled him. In presenting his discoveries to the group, he merely had to re-arrange the equation at two points and the system would forever fail to detonate. Once these two re-arrangements were made, no amount of re-evaluation would point to this particular detail as being faulty. All corrections of the misfire would focus on other areas of the formulation, with over one hundred million permutations. If all went well, it would be ten years before the mistake was discovered.

Though he intended to delay as long as possible the presentation of his conception, he knew he must be the first to present, lest the correct thesis be presented in regards to the critical path. By early spring of 1944 he saw that two of his young proteges were uncovering significant portions of the path and he was forced to the first task. On April seventh, he presented his findings with cool reserve and astounding humility. The team was ecstatic at the breakthrough.

The second task proved more daunting. He must find a way to communicate his findings to a team of American scientists that had assembled in pursuit of the same objective. It was well-known by Nazi intelligence who America's leading scientists were. There were well placed Germans among them. He must secretly make contact and pass along his discovery. So great was his fear of creating suspicions that he never once dared to speak to anyone of his intentions.

In June a secret memo crossed his desk requesting him to cease from all projects not related to the superbomb. An attachment for his eyes only mentioned that it was now going to be a race. The Americans appeared to be making serious progress. Time was not an ally.

Near the end of the attachment he noted a list of names, the names of prominent scientists with whom the German team was in direct competition. Among the names was a certain Robert Oppenheimer. It seemed as if the letters of his name leapt from the page and were branded into his consciousness.

"Oppenheimer," he said to himself.

"Did you say something, Herr Kurtweil?" one of his associates asked.

Kurtweil did not reply. Inwardly he vowed to make contact with Oppenheimer.

By late summer he realized that normal communication channels were closed to him. There was no way he would risk divulging his secrets, for there was no one he trusted. Yes, he knew there were malcontents among the ranks, but the magnitude of the stakes made it impossible for him to risk having such knowledge fall into the wrong hands, that is, Nazi hands.

According to a notation in his journals, on September 12, unable to find sleep, Kurtweil rose from his bed and dressed to go out, perhaps to a cabaret, perhaps for a smoke. When he opened the door he was startled to find a strange stooped man standing on his doorstep.

"What do you want?" Kurtweil said sharply.

"I have watched you, Herr Kurtweil. The destiny of the world is in your hands."

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I have come to help you. May I come in?"

Kurtweil was frightened. Did someone know? Had something in his manner betrayed him?

The man put his hand on Kurtweil's arm. "I know the solution to your problem."

Kurtweil began to stammer. He had not been sleeping. He had not had enough rest. He tried to pull back, but the stranger held him firmly.

When their eyes met, Kurtweil saw that he was not in danger. "Come in," he said with resignation.

They walked to the back of the house to Kurtweil’s study. It was badly lit so that the corners remained well cloaked in shadow, as were the recesses of his soul.

The man removed his overcoat. Kurtweil threw it over the back of a chair and gave him an ashen look when his empty hands fell to his sides.

"You understand my dilemma," Kurtweil said.

"Yes," said the man quietly.

They seated themselves and for a long time neither spoke.

"So what must I do?" Kurtweil said.

"You must learn the secret of dreams."

"What do you mean?”

"Dreaming is not a passive encounter with our unconscious, as Freud taught. Jung was more astute. Yet even Jung did not go far enough. I tell you truthfully, the power of the dream exceeds all known powers, and when you have mastered it, you can save the world."

"I don't understand."

"You are a great mind. Have you no imagination? You wish to communicate a great truth to another great mind. You are trapped by circumstance, by geography, by space and time. How is it possible to escape such bounds?"

"If I knew that, I would be..." He broke off.

"You would be... what?"

"God."

"Or...?"

"Or the devil."

"Think again," the man said.

Kurtweil stood up and walked to the window. He saw his face reflected in the glass, illumined as if a mask, his eyes dark hollows. When he turned again, he was alone. The man had disappeared.

From his pocket he pulled a hanky and dabbed at his forehead. He was sweating fiercely and felt a need to take in the night air. Had it been a hallucination? He had not been sleeping well. He had not been sleeping at all, it seemed.

He’d met Carl Jung once. They stood together on a balcony at a party in Geneva fifteen years before. "Consciousness is a portal," Jung had said that night. "When we pass through this portal to the other side, where do we go? When we return, where have we been?" Kurtweil, a practical man, was irritated by Jung at the time. But now, he wondered.

During a press conference in 1947 when he was appointed head of the Atomic Energy Commission, J. Robert Oppenheimer was asked how he solved the problem of pre-detonation and discovered the secret of the bomb. “If I told you the truth you would laugh, so I will only say that it came to me in a dream.”

“What kind of dream, sir? Did you see blueprints or something like that?”

Oppenheimer hesitated a moment, then replied, “Actually, it was someone else’s dream.” This cryptic reply is the only known public reference to Dr. Kurtweil’s second great achievement.

~ ~ ~

Author’s Note: I learned the above story in 1994 while teaching a class for senior citizens at University of MN, Duluth. That spring I’d written a series of articles on ethical issues in terminal health care and as a result had been invited to teach for an afternoon on the pros and cons of assisted suicide. One of the members of the class was a large man whose name now escapes me (I have it written in my notes somewhere, but for the sake of this story I will call him Mr. Jackson) who as a young scientist had been a member of the Manhattan Project. Being a writer I am always interested in a good story. I asked if he had plans for dinner.

Mr. Jackson told me that during the course of the project Oppenheimer had become a changed man. “It happened almost suddenly. Most of us attributed it to the fact that we had had a breakthrough and the Bomb was going to become a reality.”

“I had worked closely with Robert,” Jackson continued, “and sensed it to be something more, so we went out one night and I confronted him. He made me swear oaths of silence, then stated coldly that if the truth were made public he would be considered a lunatic and removed from the project. ‘I could be ruined,’ he said. As we all know the Project was a success and for a time Oppenheimer became a national hero. I’ve often wondered who else knew the source of his inspiration, or whether I was the only one.”

EN, 3-25-06

You can read more stories like this in my book Unremembered Histories: Six Stories with a Supernatural Twist.  Click on THIS LINK

Throwback Thursday: Stories About the Bomb

This week I've been watching Dunkirk, a powerful retelling of the near loss of the British army which would have undoubtedly resulted in the fall of Britain. Had that event occurred it is quite possible Adolph Hitler could have successfully conquered the world, for there would have been no impediment to Rommel's conquest of the Middle East oil fields, the primary objective of his North Africa campaign. And was it not the Turing Machine, a Brit breakthrough, that broke German code thus enabling the Allies to intercept messages and destroy Rommel's re-supply efforts? 

That moment in time (Dunkirk) was recently highlighted in the 2017 Gary Oldman film Darkest Hour. It's good to be reminded of how much of history is determined by singular moments and "little things." I think of here of the Ben Franklin quote that begins, "For want of a nail..."

And so... for Throwback Thursday I share this story about a little thing... with big consequences.

Stories About the Bomb
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED 2013
I don't think there's a one of us in the Baby Boomer generation who lived unaware of the Cold War and that dark shadow of potential nuclear winter. It's one of those things that was always out there, though each of us reacted differently to this ominous reality. I remember reading On the Beach as a young teen, which had already become a film in 1959 starring Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner among others. A vividly written story about the end of the human race makes an impression on one, especially if you permit imagination to enter in to suggest all the things you may never experience before you die. Yes, even then we had fledgling versions of a bucket list.

Many of us also read Hiroshima by the Pulitzer Prize-winning John Hersey, a story about six survivors of the bomb that shook the world, with images so vivid it will straighten your hair.

So it is that many of us write in order to process our life experiences. I once wrote a poem on this theme called Bad Break which attempted to capture a measure of this Cold War anxiety.

In part, this is where my story "Two Acts That Changed the World" came from, which is currently the opening short story in my short collection of stories called Unremembered Histories.

The second inspiration for the story comes from having been enthralled by the writings of Jorge Luis Borges, whom I consider a primary influence on all of the stories in this particular volume. Borges is the master of reality-bending hyper-real story-telling.

For what it's worth, consider this intro something like a movie trailer, designed to entice you to fork over a few bucks to see the flick. It's a buck-ninety-nine if you have a Kindle. For iPad owners you can also download a free app. It's also now available in print.

TWO ACTS THAT CHANGED THE WORLD

Of the dozen or so German physicists who had been assigned the task of building a super-bomb for Germany, Wilhelm Kurtweil more than any knew the consequences for humanity should the Nazis succeed in being the first to achieve this ultimate quest. Kurtweil had been a leading voice in German physics before the war, was now a respected scientist in the twilight years of a fabulous career.

For him personally, Nazism was an odious blight on the German peoples, but he had remained silent, hoping against hope that the dark season would pass and German character would rise above its brutal cancer. By 1942 he’d lost this hope.

The super-bomb project was in full swing. The Nazis already dominated Europe. England was about to fall.

His worst fear of all: that the project would succeed and his name be forever associated with its success in bringing the world to its knees at Hitler's feet.

In November he began praying for divine intervention. He did not believe in God, but not knowing where else to turn and hoping that he was wrong, he prayed that God would give him wisdom. The following week he conceived in a dream, visualized with perfect clarity, the formulation for the Atomic Bomb. It was so perfect, so brilliantly conceived, and remarkably clever. He woke in a sweat. With an over-stimulated mind he spent the rest of that night hastily scratching notes on scraps of paper. For three successive nights he worked out the details, occasionally catching fitful moments of sleep to sustain his strength.

On the fourth night, he saw clearly the two actions he must take. First, he must find a way to undermine -- without drawing suspicion -- the efforts of his fellow scientists. And second, he must find a way to communicate his findings to the American scientists whom he believed were actively pursuing the same designs.

The first task was easy enough. He saw that the labyrinthian formula was built on a series of equations which flowed with a counter-intuitive divergence from logic at several critical points. How he had seen this so plainly baffled him. In presenting his discoveries to the group, he merely had to re-arrange the equation at two points and the system would forever fail to detonate. Once these two re-arrangements were made, no amount of re-evaluation would point to this particular detail as being faulty. All corrections of the misfire would focus on other areas of the formulation, with over one hundred million permutations. If all went well, it would be ten years before the mistake was discovered.

Though he intended to delay as long as possible the presentation of his formulation, he knew he must be the first to present, lest the correct thesis be presented in regards to the critical path. By early spring of 1943 he saw that two of his young proteges were uncovering significant portions of the path and he was forced to the first task. On April seventh, he presented his findings with cool reserve and astounding humility. The team was ecstatic at the breakthrough.

The second task proved more daunting... 

Read the reviews here, and check it out: Unremembered Histories

Two Profound Actions

Short Story Monday.

When Paul Newman passed away last week I’d considered devoting a blog entry to the man, especially since our names are similar. (Paul and Ed both have one syllable, and both have the same number of vowels as consonants.)

The next day I decided out check out a Paul Newman flick that I’d not yet seen. Fat Man & Little Boy. Ironically, it was about the Manhattan Project, Robert Oppenheimer and the development of the bomb, the selfsame theme of the story which I had planned to publish here today.

Two Acts That Profoundly Changed World History

Of the dozen or so German physicists who had been assigned the task of building a super-bomb for Germany, Wilhelm Kurtweil more than any knew the consequences for humanity should the Nazis become the first to achieve this ultimate quest. Kurtweil had been a leading voice in German physics before the war, was now a respected scientist in the twilight years of a fabulous career.

For him personally, Nazism was an odious blight on the German peoples, but he had remained silent, hoping against hope that the dark season would pass and German character would rise above its brutal cancer. In 1942 he lost this hope.

The super-bomb project was in full swing. The Nazis already dominated Europe. England was about to fall.

His worst fear of all: that the project would succeed and his name be forever associated with its success in bringing the world to its knees at Hitler's feet.

In November he began praying for divine intervention. He did not believe in God, but not knowing where else to turn and hoping that he was wrong, he prayed that God would give him wisdom. The following week he conceived in a dream, visualized with perfect clarity, the formulation for the Atomic Bomb. It was so perfect, so brilliantly conceived, and remarkably clever. He woke in a sweat. With his mind overstimulated he spent the rest of that night hastily scratching notes on scraps of paper. For three successive nights he worked out the details, occasionally catching fitful moments of sleep to sustain his strength.

On the fourth night, he saw clearly the two actions he must take. First, he must find a way to undermine -- without drawing suspicion -- the efforts of his fellow scientists. And second, he must find a way to communicate his findings to the American scientists whom he believed were actively pursuing the same designs.

The first task was easy enough. He saw clearly that the labyrinthian formula was built on a series of equations which flowed with a counterintuitive divergence from logic at several critical points. How he had seen this so plainly baffled him. In presenting his discoveries to the group, he merely had to re-arrange the equation at two points and the system would forever fail to detonate. Once these two re-arrangements were made, no amount of re-evaluation would point to this particular detail as being faulty. All corrections of the misfire would focus on other areas of the formulation, with over one hundred million permutations. If all went well, it would be ten years before the mistake was discovered.

Though he intended to delay as long as possible the presentation of his formulation, he knew he must be the first to present, lest the correct thesis be presented in regards to the critical path. By early spring of 1944 he saw that two of his young proteges were uncovering significant portions of the path and he was forced to the first task. On April seventh, he presented his findings with cool reserve and astounding humility. The team was ecstatic at the breakthrough.

The second task proved more daunting. He must find a way to communicate hisfindings to a team of American scientists that would be assembling in pursuit of the same objective. It was well-known by Nazi intelligence who America's leading scientists were. There were well placed Germans among them. He must secretly make contact and pass along his findings. So great was his fear of creating suspicions that he never once dared to speak to anyone of his intentions.

In June a secret memo crossed his desk requesting him to cease from all projects not related to the superbomb. An attachment for his eyes only mentioned that it was now going to be a race. The Americans were indeed assembling their own team, and time was not an ally.

Near the end of the attachment he noted a list of names, the names of prominent scientists with whom the German team was in direct competition. Among the names was a certain Robert Oppenheimer and it seemed as if the letters of his name leaped from the page and were branded into his consciousness.

"Oppenheimer," he said to himself.

"Did you say something, Herr Kurtweil?" one of his associates asked.

Kurtweil did not reply. Inwardly he vowed to make contact with Oppenheimer.

By late summer he realized that normal communication channels were closed to him. There was no way he would risk divulging his secrets, for there was no one he trusted. Yes, he knew there were malcontents among the ranks, but the magnitude of the stakes made it impossible for him to risk having such knowledge fall into the wrong hands, that is, Nazi hands.

According to a notation in his journals, on September 12, unable to find sleep, Kurtweil rose from his bed and dressed to go out, perhaps to a cabaret, perhaps for a smoke. When he opened the door he was startled to find a strange stooped man standing on his doorstep.

"What do you want?" Kurtweil said sharply.

"I have watched you, Herr Kurtweil. The destiny of the world is in your hands."

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I have come to help you. May I come in?"

Kurtweil was frightened. Did someone know? Had something in his manner betrayed him?

The man put his hand on Kurtweil's arm. "I know the solution to your problem."

Kurtweil began to stammer. He had not been sleeping. He had not had enough rest. He tried to pull back, but the stranger held him firmly.

When their eyes met, Kurtweil saw that he was not in danger. "Come in," he said with resignation.

They walked to the back of the house to Kurtweil’s study. It was badly lit so that the corners remained well cloaked in shadow, as were the recesses of his soul.

The man removed his overcoat. Kurtweil threw it over the back of a chair and gave him an ashen look when his empty hands fell to his sides.

"You understand my dilemma," Kurtweil said.

"Yes," said the man quietly.

They seated themselves and for a long time neither spoke.

"So what must I do?" Kurtweil said.

"You must learn the secret of dreams."

"What do you mean?”

"Dreaming is not a passive encounter with our unconscious, as Freud taught. Jung was more astute. Yet even Jung did not go far enough. I tell you truthfully, the power of the dream exceeds all known powers, and when you have mastered it, you can save the world."

"I don't understand."

"You are a great mind. Have you no imagination? You wish to communicate a great truth to another great mind. You are trapped by circumstance, by geography, by space and time. How is it possible to escape such bounds?"

"If I knew that, I would be..." He broke off.

"You would be... what?"

"God."

"Or...?"

"Or the devil."

"Think again," the man said.

Kurtweil stood up and walked to the window. He saw his face reflected in the glass, illumined as if a mask, his eyes dark hollows. When he turned again, he was alone. The man had disappeared.
From his pocket he pulled a hanky and dabbed at his forehead. He was sweating fiercely and felt a need to take in the night air. Had it been a hallucination? He had not been sleeping well. He had not been sleeping at all, it seemed.

He’d met Carl Jung once. They stood together on a balcony at a party in Geneva fifteen years before. "Consciousness is a portal," Jung had said that night. "When we pass through this portal to the other side, where do we go? When we return, where have we been?" Kurtweil, a practical man, was irritated by Jung at the time. But now, he wondered.

During a press conference in 1947 when he was appointed head of the Atomic Energy Commission, J. Robert Oppenheimer was asked how he solved the problem of predetonation and discovered the secret of the bomb. “If I told you the truth you would laugh, so I will only say that it came to me in a dream.”

“What kind of dream, sir? Did you see blueprints or something like that?”

Oppenheimer hesitated a moment, then replied, “Actually, it was someone else’s dream.” This cryptic reply is the only known public reference to Dr. Kurtweil’s second great achievement.

~ ~ ~

Author’s Note: I learned the above story in 1994 while teaching a class for senior citizens at University of MN, Duluth. That spring I’d written a series of articles on ethical issues in terminal health care and as a result had been invited to teach for an afternoon on the pros and cons of assisted suicide. One of the members of the class was a large man whose name now escapes me (I have it written in my notes somewhere, but for the sake of this story I will call him Mr. Jackson) who as a young scientist had been a member of the Manhattan Project. Being a writer I am always interested in a good story. I asked if he had plans for dinner.

Mr. Jackson told me that during the course of the project Oppenheimer had become a changed man. “It happened almost suddenly. Most of us attributed it to the fact that we had had a breakthrough and the Bomb was going to become a reality.”

“I had worked closely with Robert,” Jackson continued, “and sensed it to be something more, so we went out one night and I confronted him. He made me swear oaths of silence, then stated coldly that if the truth were made public he would be considered a lunatic and removed from the project. ‘I could be ruined,’ he said. As we all know the Project was a success and for a time Oppenheimer became a national hero. I’ve often wondered who else knew the source of his inspiration, or whether I was the only one.”

EN, 3-25-06