A Hafu’s Take on Oppenheimer
In this blog, I share my thoughts on Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer and the response to this film.
The Lived Experience You Don’t Hear About
I grew up deeply cognizant of the ravages of the World War II era on Japan and the countries it colonized. Aside from survivors’ habits and stories that are universal, what struck me as uniquely Japanese were the annual remembrances of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagaski, which I watched on television with my grandmother every summer I spent in Japan.
What always struck me about these remembrances is that there was very little victimhood and animosity, with the notable exception of the Hiroshima Memorial Museum I visited in 2014. Instead these events reflected our famous stoicism and silence in the face of suffering.
I came to the viewing of Oppenheimer with this perspective. To see that Christopher Nolan chose not to portray any of the Japanese experience felt like the ultimate dismissal of a legacy a whole region of the world inherited.
Let us not forget that one of the results of colonization was that many people who died during the bombardment were also of Southeast Asian and Chinese descent, but chiefly among them, Korean. These unacknowledged victims have received a plaque or two at most at both the Hiroshima and Nagasaki memorials.
Oppenheimer’s Legacy Belongs to All of Us
If I could sum up this dismissal in one scene, it would be the beginnings of PTSD that Oppenheimer is alluded to having. Instead of envisioning Asian skin being melted off faces as the bomb is detonated, Oppenheimer hallucinates that the white faces of his colleagues are being melted off instead. White bodies superimposing Asian lives.
This was a deliberate choice Christopher Nolan has explicitly stated he made: artistic simplicity over visibility for the estimated 140,000 lives that were lost during the singular bombing of Hiroshima.
I strongly believe that Oppenheimer lost the right to have his legacy portrayed in a singular lens the moment he committed to an invention designed to murder people on a massive scale. His story belongs to all of us now, and should have been portrayed thusly.
Recognizing that this film could serve as either the most memorable or the sole exposure to the devastation caused by the atom bomb in Asia, it feels like a missed opportunity to promote empathy for diverse perspectives and raise awareness of the human toll of nuclear armament at a time our world is in dire need of both.
The Personal Chasm Oppenheimer Highlights
It has been telling to observe the widespread praise for this film in regions where allyship and inclusivity are fundamental values. The notable absence of critiques regarding the film's failure to portray the perspective of those affected by this history speaks volumes. To this I say:
I hear your omission.
It reminds me of a reality I’ve had to navigate as a direct descendant of a Japanese family in the United States. While the western world has irreversibly left their mark on Japan, the western world is not particularly interested in exploring our version of historical events.
This dichotomy - one side who is deeply cognizant, and the other who is not - is the chasm I’ve had to bridge mostly alone during my upbringing in the USA.
Bottom Line
Even with the rise of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI), there remains a dismissal and disinterest towards experiences we weren’t raised in.
Attention to this issue seems to rely on people demanding visibility. This is a barrier for genuine inclusion, representation, and allyship. In my experience, it is simply antithetical to the Japanese mindset to demand visibility for oneself.
In my opinion, genuine inclusion requires proactive reflection and preemptive action, rather than waiting for individuals to demand recognition. By adopting this approach, we can bolster bridges across cultural and national difference.
