Editor-in-chief Rhea Chalak explores how the latest Nolan blockbuster Oppenheimer (2023) appears as a derivative of the famous and revered Hindu text, the Bhagavad-gītā.

Oppenheimer (and Barbie, let’s not forget its noble companion) took the summer of ’23 by storm. Being the 12th movie Christopher Nolan directed, alongside starring a phenomenal, star-studded cast (I guess Cillian Murphy’s outwardly appearance did help motivate a lot of the attention, at least for me), it’s almost no surprise that people were obsessively talking about it. The movie itself is based on the book American Prometheus. Prometheus, the man in Greek mythology who gave humanity fire whilst defying the Greek Gods — this led to technological advancements for human civilisation, and for which he was condemned to eternal torment and torture. Prometheus represents one dedicated to the quest for scientific knowledge, even when placed at great risk. The film Oppenheimer further augments this analogy, showing the arc of Oppenheimer’s quest for knowledge till the creation of the atomic bomb, and then the self-incurred liver-eating-esque torture he suffers when he ruminates on the impact of his actions. 

Prometheus is a well-known (and at times, almost over-used) analogy in Western film and media. Even in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, she refers to the titular character as “the Modern Prometheus”. What I found more interesting was the allusion to Hindu mythology (maybe I am biased, being Hindu myself), especially with the scenes directly referring to the famous and revered Hindu text, the Bhagavad-gītā. The first time I’d heard of Hinduism referenced in modern Western media, not just the idea of spirituality (as is seen within the Beatles’ discography most popularly) but an actual reference to a Hindu text; was the song Entropy by Daniel Caesar. It starts off with an audio of someone speaking: 

Now, years later, I realise that was the voice of American theoretical physicist Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer himself, taken from an interview. Oppenheimer was first introduced to the Sanskrit language by Arthur W Ryder, who taught it at the University of California, Berkeley, and this naturally led him to the Bhagavad-gītā, which influenced him greatly. Apparently, Cillian Murphy read the text in preparation for the movie, so there is the assumption made that it has somewhat influenced the manner he plays his character or the role his character plays within the film as a whole. 

I grew up as and still pretty much consider myself a Hindu. It’s been a long time since I’ve read any of the texts I grew up with, especially the Gita, but they still occupy some space in the back of my mind and have influenced my mindset to a certain extent. Hinduism is different from Abrahamic religions in that there is no specific text or book like the Bible or Quran. There are two types of texts within Hinduism, Shruti (heard) and Smriti (remembered). Shruti texts are considered divinely revealed and only heard by sages during deep meditation. This includes texts such as the Vedas. I don’t really want to delve into something too complex and convoluted so I wouldn’t really get into that. If you really are interested maybe you could watch this video of a conversation between Deepak Chopra and Swami Sarvapriyananda.

On the other hand, there are Smriti texts, considered to have been written by humans, narrating events that presumably took place in real life. In recent years there has been some evidence here and there proving the reality of these events having actually taken place; however, I think these texts are more to provide guidance on the way life has to be led; more a metaphorical way of living rather than factual events to believe. The most popular ones are the Rāmāyaṇa, the story of Lord Rama, an avatar of the God Vishnu; and the Mahābhārata, the longest epic poem about familial rivalry and war, addressing ethical dilemmas, duty, and life; my personal favourite. The Mahābhārata includes the Bhagavad-gītā; the philosophical dialogue between Lord Krishna (another avatar of the God Vishnu) and Arjuna. This specific poem of their dialogue is the one Oppenheimer considered one of his favourites and famously quoted.

The Mahābhārata, directly translated as “Great India”, is the longest epic poem ever written, with about 1.8 million words. Considered to have been written by the revered sage Vyāsa, who viewed it as itihāsa (transl. history); the story revolves around the dynastic struggle for the royal throne of Hastinapur, between two factions of the royal family, the Kauravas and the Pandavas; and its culmination in the great Kurukshetra war. The tale does not have a specific time span, but the narrative spans generations and covers various stories that each play a role in the greater and grander ecosystem of the written story; conveying moral, ethical, and philosophical teachings that are intricate and heterogenous in nature. 

The Bhagavad-gītā, translated as The Song of God, takes place right at the precipice of the Great War, the event that the entire poem has been hurtling towards. It is a narrative dialogue between the Pandava prince Arjuna, and his friend, confidante, and charioteer Lord Krishna. Arjuna stares opposite at the enemy lines and sees the faces of all his relatives; he despairs imagining the violence and bloodshed that is about to ensue and becomes ensnared in a dilemma, wondering if he should renounce the war. This is where Krishna steps in with his advice; explaining how Arjuna should fulfill his dharma (duty) as a soldier; what he should accomplish in order to continue on the right path of virtue that is necessary to attain spiritual liberation from the cycles of rebirth, moksha (Hindus believe in reincarnation). Arjuna asks Krishna to reveal his universal form; Krishna obliges and manifests as a sublime, terrifying being. Arjuna as a soldier has a duty to fight this war; rather than mourning or rejoicing about the consequences of these actions, he should stay detached as his actions are incomparable to the greatness of the Supreme, Krishna, who is all-encompassing and has everything in the palm of his hands. Arjuna’s grief and despair are insignificant.

The Gita acts as a guide to living. The battlefield and war represent the struggles of life. Essentially, we are all Arjuna, staring at the suffering and pain that is before us that is necessary for us to go through and endure through fulfilling our dharma and staying on the virtuous path. One should do what is the right thing expected of them simply because it is right; not for the fruits it will deliver to you, and without the worry of what the results will be. The Gita delves into greater detail regarding these paths to attaining enlightenment and spiritual realisation, bringing together different strands of Hindu thought, and these details have also been interpreted differently by different scholars, religious figures, and individuals over the years. I love the translation done by poet and translator Mani Rao, with an excerpt as follows:

The reason I delve into all this mythology: to me, the film Oppenheimer seems to mirror the Bhagavad-gītā. There is no long-drawn, unresolved family drama. Neither is Oppenheimer royalty. There is no Supreme being in a human avatar. There is an actual war, however, - World War Two - similar to the Kurukshetra War. Oppenheimer appears to be the Arjuna in this story. He witnesses the destruction caused by Nazi Germany - he is the son of German Jewish immigrants - and takes it as his dharma and responsibility to develop the atomic bomb to stop the war. He quotes the Gita twice; once during an intimate scene with Jean Tatlock (played by Florence Pugh); while the other is right after the successful bomb test, when Oppenheimer sees firsthand the results of his and his team’s handwork. It seems that it is only after this moment of seeing the consequences of his actions that the words he is quoting transcend from being just pretentious spoken words to impress a girl into something more gutting and impactful. In the film (and in real life) he says: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds”. The literal translation of the Sanskrit is a little different:

The phrase “kālo'smi” literally translates to “I am Time”; there is a reminder of the mortality of mankind in the actual text and the insignificance of humans in the greater scheme of the universe. The translation to “Death” is not necessarily wrong; death is the result of succumbing to time. With age, everything is broken down into nothingness. 

Oppenheimer deviates from the actual text; in the role of Arjuna that he was playing, fulfilling what he assumed was the right thing (his dharma), he has literally created “the destroyer of worlds” (the atomic bomb). Being the mind behind the atomic bomb he views himself as Death. Towards the end of the film, he realises the chain reaction of his actions that will lead to nuclear warfare in the future of mankind, therefore becoming “the destroyer of worlds” to come. Unlike Arjuna, who was advised to stay detached from his actions and fulfill his righteous duty whilst remaining faithful to the divine, Oppenheimer is shown to be wracked by the guilt of his actions and the role he plays in the suffering of the dead - “I have blood on my hands”, he says later to President Truman.

There is no God or Krishna to guide Arjuna. Oppenheimer is both Arjuna and Krishna at once. He is mortal but also possesses that sublime, destructive divine power. (To be fair, though this technically deviates from the traditional text, there can also be an argument made on the idea that God is around us and within us. It is possible to be both Arjuna and Krishna because Krishna or the divine essence exists within us all.) The real manifestation of Krishna within the film besides his almost divine level of intellect is the insane god complex that Oppenheimer is consumed by, and his attempt to play God by creating such a destructive weapon. (Quoting the Bhagavad-gītā during a sex scene is nothing short of a god complex, in my opinion.)

I doubt Oppenheimer believed in reincarnation or used moksha as an incentive behind his actions, nor do I think Nolan was attempting to reinterpret the Gita with this film; rather it seems to be a way to rationalise or make sense of the way forward. This is probably exactly why Oppenheimer himself was so consumed by the consequences of his actions. Obviously, I don’t condone the use or development of the atomic bomb; yet at the same time, I understand his rationale and intention for its production. And after producing the bomb, he carried on his righteous duty by advising those in power against the weapon upon what he had learned. There is no spiritual or redemptive ending that follows the last scene; rather, Oppenheimer stares out haunted by the impact of his actions. Rather than a villain, Oppenheimer is simply a flawed human being attempting to fulfill his duty with harrowing consequences. The real villain of the story is not Oppenheimer, but rather war itself. The only source of respite one can offer is that this weapon would have been developed anyway; Oppenheimer had just done it first. 

Adapted from a post rhea wrote for her personal blog here.