Melinda Sue Gordon / Universal Pictures / Courtesy Everett Collection
The mysterious sanctuary tucked away in the Jemez Mountains was only known as Box 1663 in the mid-1950s. The mission of its 13,000 residents was to create “the device”. Living there was a challenge. “It’s a prison camp for eggheads,” whispered one scientist.
As a young journalist, I decided I had to find a way to visit Los Alamos, even though I knew it would take time – maybe years. I finally made it in 1956 (details below). And I revisited it this week while watching Christopher Nolan’s new epic Oppenheimer, a brilliant, gripping film that received unqualified critical acclaim.
Viewers around the world will discover not one film, but two with contrasting themes – one a gripping heroic thriller about the dawn of a troubled nuclear age, the other a gripping if talkative political drama steeped in Cold War politics.
Cinema lovers will be delighted by Nolan’s succinct, if choppy, scenes that depict the intrigues of a pioneering quantum physicist. Some will rejoice in the performance of Cillian Murphy as the “Most Important Man Alive,” an intellectual who reads TS Eliot, listens to Stravinsky, learns Sanskrit in two weeks, and adores Picasso paintings.
Others may be stunned by the unexpected appearances of Rami Malek and Josh Hartnett, who are among those science wizards, or the unflappable Robert Downey Jr. as a devious bureaucrat, or Matt Damon as the general in charge of everything. Emily Blunt and Florence Pugh make excellent supporting roles.
As I watched the three-hour film, I was inevitably swept up in memories of my own visit to Los Alamos and my encounters with its haunted and self-doubting residents.
As a new reporter for the Wall Street Journal, I had heard rumors that Los Alamos was quietly opening up to outsiders offering non-political credentials. My editors at the Journal were skeptical about my mission. “No one will talk to you,” they guessed. “Besides, what’s the story?”
They gave in. The guards guarding the gates seemed friendly, if confused. “I don’t understand why you are visiting us,” explained one.
“It’s not a very interesting community.”
But within hours I knew he was wrong. Virtually everyone I met had a PhD or equivalent. They were young and talkative – but careful when I used their names.
“Basically, we are servants of the government,” explained a young scientist. “They looked after us during the difficult war period but offered us meager accommodation distributed according to status. You had to be lucky to fulfill their vision of a really big hit.”
Most of the apartments were dormitories. Older scientists were assigned houses, but chimneys or carports were available only to the most important scientists. Many houses lacked a kitchen.
Trailer in Los Alamos, NM Doreen Spooner/Getty Images
“I love my customers, but I hate my business,” explained a young woman who ran a clothing store. “It’s impossible to get a loan because the bankers know that one misstep can get you kicked out of town.”
Secrecy was everywhere. “Before the bomb was dropped in 1945, there were constant rumors about spies,” said a local resident. “Some locals suspected ‘the device’ was really the bomb, but what kind of bomb?” said one resident. “Only Oppenheimer himself seemed to appreciate that Los Alamos was toying with the future of humanity. But everyone was okay with the dirty little secret.”
During the war years, a silent debate raged among scientists in the community as to whether the bomb should ever be dropped. The war with Germany was over. Would Japan capitulate anyway, a debate scrupulously explored in Nolan’s film.
Some of the leading scientists believed that Los Alamos should have been closed after Hiroshima and Nagasaki for symbolic reasons, but the Atomic Energy Commission and its allies insisted there were more important things to do.
As Nolan’s film makes clear, Oppenheimer himself was committed to the goals of nuclear control and cooperation. He envisioned a worldwide peace movement.
As a reward for his extraordinary performance and loyalty, he was stripped of security clearance. He would no longer have access to the universe he created – an absurd decision that was later reversed.
Oppenheimer realized midway through his career that he had contributed not only to the development of battlefield weapons, but also to instruments of terror and mass destruction.
Had Openheimer’s colleague Albert Einstein written the film, one would likely have argued that Oppenheimer lost his soul when he first combined the tools of quantum physics with the menacing politics of the arms race.
“The tragic mistake of Los Alamos was to fool scientists into believing they could play God,” a physicist told me at the time.
The film draws much of its information from American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer, a book by Kai Bird and Walter J. Sherwin.