It’s my favorite time of year! No, not (just) the dawning of spring but gala season! From personally
participating in several in support of the organizations and charities that are
near and dear to my heart or front and center for the “fashion shows” on
Hollywood’s red carpets that lead to every arts & entertainment celebration
imaginable from the Grammy’s to the NAACP Image Awards, it’s a time for seeing
and being seen. And the largest “runway”—in the form of the 96
th Academy
Awards stage—comes alive this weekend. That’s why in addition to being a gala
lover, I’m also a self-proclaimed cinephile, which means I try to see the most
buzzed about Oscar-nominated films before their big day. Enters Oppenheimer.
Let me say, I’d heard the 2023 epic biographical thriller
film—written, directed, and produced by Christopher Nolan and starring Cillian
Murphy as the American theoretical physicist credited with being the
"father of the atomic bomb" and his role in the Manhattan Project—was
worth its hype. No, not just from critics whose opinions I rarely let influence
my own movie-going desires but from family whose opinions I highly trust as
many of our interests are similar.
But I
also knew at 180 minutes, I would need to set aside time for this viewing. And that time would be Thursday
night when I finally turned down the lights, curled up under a
blanket on my couch, and settled in for this cinematic experience of anxiety-inducing
highs and melancholic lows, all crescendo’ing into an ending that unfolded in a
“The Usual Suspects” style of storytelling. It ended, the credits rolled to the
backdrop of an ominous orchestral score and I watched. Sat—shook. I woke up the
next day still shook. And the irony is that what shook me had nothing to do
with the major themes of the blockbuster: the perils of war; living with the
consequences of your decisions; being surrounded by wolves in sheep clothing; or
even the danger of succumbing to self-aggrandizing behavior. No, what left me
in deep perseveration was a scene so subtle, yet so profound, that in my opinion
the entire movie hinged on its existence and, in the end, was what truly threatened
the course of history: an assumption. No, not of the mathematical variety rooted
in theory and calculations but a simple assumption rooted in basic human
insecurity and pride.
I won’t provide any spoilers, but I’ll just say that the
reveal not only stopped me in proverbial tracks and caused me to take inventory
in ways I may have let such behavior impact my decision making, but also led to
a re-commitment
to do a better job in
allowing myself to be, well, wrong. Now, let me say this can be more difficult
than you think for some of us for one very important reason: intuition. For while often unexplainable, it is God-given, real, and we all inhabit some modicum of it. But it
is not a perfect science, and it is subject to error. Yet, some of ours may be much stronger than others, which is why leaving that
margin for error is indeed something I struggle with primarily because I am my
grandmother Sallie’s grandchild (IYKYK :-). For if you’re a person whose intuition has
proven accurate
way more often than not, it can lead to, dare I say, an
arrogance that can block both growth and meaningful understanding that not only makes us better communicators but, ultimately, better human beings.
And it is in that inability to hold space for such where disagreements,
broken relationships, and failed opportunities to learn may emerge. There are no
absolutes in anything but the truth and, often, the easiest way to dismantle an
assumption is just to ask those questions that need to be asked that removes
all doubt and subsequently sets us and our counterparts free. Yes, sometimes we
fear what the answer will be for what it may reveal about others or ourselves, but that truth will always outweigh living suspended in doubt. For
if one of the principal characters in the movie had asked one simple question instead
of assuming that he knew instead, the legacy of J. Robert Oppenheimer would have
unfolded in a much different way. Dare I say,
history may have unfolded
in a much different way.
For this (and sheer excellent storytelling, directing, and acting), I say give Oppenheimer its flowers.
But, as multi-hyphenated entertainer Issa Rae once said, I’m still rooting for
everyone (and everything) black (shoutout to “American Fiction,” which I loved). However,
if we don’t emerge victorious in some Academy categories because we’ve been
defeated by this powerhouse, I won’t be (too) disappointed. I’ve seen it and it was
worth its weight in, well, plutonium
😉
But don’t get it twisted: I'll keep my proverbial Oscars-protest-picket sign in my closet dusted off and ready to go for next year because Hollywood is always gonna Hollywood, if you
will. This year, however, I’m trusting they’ll at least get it right in the Best Picture category.Photo Credits: N/A
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