One of the reasons why I’ve resisted seeing this movie so long after its initial release date is because I’ve had an image in my mind about the Manhattan Project for a long time that I didn’t want disturbed and it didn’t seem like this morose, melodramatic biopic was going to be able to make due on every detail I had laid out in my head. I didn’t think Christopher Nolan was up to the task of making the Manhattan Project horny as fuck.
I don’t know why I’ve developed this image of Los Alamos and the massive research juggernaut that led to the brutal and senseless killing of thousands, but I think probably as a child who watched a lot of History Channel documentaries, I at one point probably put down an alternate history book about WW2…
No, not that one…
Yes! That one! And saw some image like the dozens of young men and women who had avoided the draft by being really smart engineers or whatever, full of vim and vigor (the exact image of them diving into water in their swimsuits eludes me), wanting to hook up after a hard day of work splitting the atom (“splitting Adam,” “WoManhattan Project,” “The Big Bang”), and it stuck with me.
Here’s a clip from Weird History in which the members of the project engaged in “square dances and ragers” that I think illustrates the dynamic fairly well.
So, for as long as I’ve remembered, I’ve pictured this story as one of intense sexual attraction and some occasional scientific breakthroughs. In my head, when I direct the inevitable adult film adaptation of the project, we’ll gender bend all the biggest characters. Albert-a Einstein will have big, flowing white hair and General Groves will wear hers tucked up into her military issue cap until just the right moment. At some point someone is going to be riding the bomb like Miley Cyrus in the Wrecking Ball music video. By the way, if you search for an image of “sexy genderbend Albert Einstein” there aren’t any good hits, so I guess I’m wondering why Westwood Studios understood something so fundamental to the sex appeal of this story three decades ago and the rest of the world is still playing catch up.
So, there it is. I’ve laid out my case for why I’ve been so nervous to let this movie invade my head canon, and if that’s not why you went to see the movie, we don’t have anything else to say to each other. I’m sorry, this really isn’t something we’re going to agree about. I know there are other reasons to see this movie, but if verifying that Los Alamos was sexy af wasn’t at the top of your list, the measuring stick we used to assess the quality of this film is going to be too foreign for us to be able to communicate our aesthetic values.
How sexy was Boopenhumor anyway? Bestie described this as a movie that’s “80% Cillian Murphy’s eyes” and “light on science” and that this meant that she would, given the chance to see either this or Barbie in theaters a second time, would choose Heimerdinger. (Wife already has tickets to see Barb again next week.) After having sat through the entirety of this man’s life, I can say that reports of Barbenheimer’s sexiness are exaggerated. Florence Pugh, who in all respects is one of the most captivating and entrancing actors of our time has a decidedly unsexy role in the film. Her sexual scenes are wrapped up in shame, regret, and feelings of self-harm, and not even the good feelings of self-harm. Emily Blunt, the other love interest in this movie?? Is never portrayed sexually, and there are several other off-screen dalliances that we only hear about in passing. The way people talking about erotic emplotment in reactions to this movie made me think that there were some joyous romps, playful in their choreography, sprinkled throughout the biopic (“It’s actually more of a historical drama,” Friend soothed me while I was grousing about biopics generally before the movie), but Barbenheimie has a lot more in common with the awkward and loveless sex of Fleabag and Euphoria than it does with, say, the awkward and joyous sex of (checks his notes)–hold please, I have to go back pretty far to find one–ah, Fire Island.
I give this mad genius’s biography two Babadooks.
