I've heard of this dude who rents himself out to do nothing. Most of us have, though we probably don't recall his name or what he looks like even after watching the documentary. The concept is so simple yet brilliant, inciting a reaction no different from looking at contemporary art we don't understand—I could've done that.
Yet, we didn't. And this man did. Morimoto has been hired over 4,000 times since the inception of his service in 2018. He gained 100,000 followers within the first year of advertising himself via a tweet. You're not alone in finding his success bizarre; the man himself was equally befuddled. Thus, his retrospective purposes to find an answer. So upon seeing his non-fiction title on stands, I wanted to get a glimpse into his mind. What I didn't expect, however, was the insights doing nothing could reveal.
Aligning with his mantra to "do nothing", Morimoto has actually not written the book himself. Engaging a writer and editor to keep an objective angle, all he did was respond to their questions and watch them develop it. Surprising, given his past life in academia and freelance writing.
Besides stemming from demoralising "jokes" his former employer made towards him, his take on jobs itself makes you reconsider the peculiar dynamics we have at work. Japan is infamous for its toxic corporate culture, but there are some aspects that apply to all modern offices. We are largely defined by our occupation, but our performances are often not judged solely based on competency. Rather, how personable we are as well. To the people who matter, at least.
It's more common than anticipated that people rent him purely to tell him something extremely confidential. Sensitive subjects you would share with their loved ones instead. Somehow, the degree of separation—Morimoto mostly sees his clients once—and his lack of advice fulfills seemingly basic human needs to A) voice it out, B) feel heard and not judged. As friend or family, we are inclined to help solve the problem at hand. Yet, many of his clients usually arrive at a solution without his contribution going beyond nodding.
In fact, it's more intriguing when it's not about getting a secret off your chest. Such as clients who just want to rave about their favourite band. It's fascinating breaking down why you can't necessarily do this with a friend. There are expected parameters for conversation; because veering too far from a mutual interest could potentially bore your companion.
This specialisation extends to activities as well. In his words, "When someone asks me to go with them to a restaurant, a computer game tournament or pop concert, I think that rather than having nobody at all they could ask, it's more a matter of not having a friend for that specific purpose. Unless a friend shares a particular interest, inviting them to come along might feel like asking a favour and thus puts you in their debt."
Occupying the liminal space between 'friend' and 'stranger', he liberates the client from these committal customs. Almost like a situationship minus the sex—you get the convenience of company without needing to spend the required time and expenditure to first build a friendship; and no obligations to continue contact. It begs the question: Are we as transactional in our personal relationships?
One of the biggest revelations was the fact that Morimoto does this for free. It is his strategic decision not to invoke a fee to avoid a dynamic dictated by money, where service satisfaction could become based on how "customers" can "get their money's worth". It's interesting to see how involving finances alters the levels of expectation.
Though living off his savings and only charging for travel expenses, he has received remuneration over the years. Sometimes, even for no reason at all. When asked how it compares with being a shrine offertory box, Morimoto is certain about the difference. People who throw coins usually expect a blessing; in his case, the sheer act of giving is what allows people to feel good about themselves. By merely existing as an available recipient, he has done his job.
What Morimoto calls being "zero spec", or having absolutely nothing to offer, is of itself his unique selling point. It prompted him to think: "A baby has a completely zero spec -it can't do anything by itself- but with the love and care of its parents and others, it lives. As I looked at our child, I kept thinking how wonderful that was. And I began to wish everyone could live like a baby does, behaving just as they wanted".
It is true that demands to contribute professionally and personally are ingrained later in life, and the freedom we were born with fades away. In some way, Morimoto has escaped this fate. It makes me wonder how many of us can.
One popular request and logical driver for his business model are activities you can't quite do alone. Or more likely, can't quite be seen doing alone. This leaves us with the questions: Why do we feel conscious of how people we don't know perceive us doing something alone? Or, what makes certain activities weird to be done alone in the first place?
Highly self-aware (probably because it was not directly authored) and funny in deadpan ways, the overall tone of the book is consistent with his branding. The short and easy read is ultimately not so much a book about doing nothing, but why humans need someone to do nothing with.
Rental Person Who Does Nothing
Time to go back, way back. The year is 2000 and Ridley Scott’s Gladiator is storming cinemas. With Russell Crowe as its hero and Joaquin Phoenix as a bad dude, the historical epic—a vengeance story featuring some brilliant sets—swept the box office, awards shows, and school classrooms for end-of-term viewing forevermore (I believe I have seen the first 35 minutes of Gladiator about seven times). Was it inevitable that we would get a sequel? To a film which earned over USD400 million and won Oscars for Best Picture and Best Actor? Perhaps the only surprise is that it has taken 24 years for Gladiator II to enter the arena: this sequel was not built in a day.
Maybe Ridley was waiting for the right lead. He seems to have found one in Normal People’s Paul Mescal, a very fine actor who carries social media trends and fashion movements on his well-turned shoulders, to take up Crowe’s mantle. Mescal plays Lucius, who has been living in northern Africa with his wife when the big bad Roman army come knocking. After the city of Numidia is conquered, a widowed Lucius is ferried to Rome where he is put in a ring with some (remarkably terrible CGI) baboons. Impressed by Lucius’ willingness to bite monkeys, human trafficker-cum-politico Macrinus (Denzel Washington) coaches Lucius into the Colosseum where he is forced to fight sharks, rhinos and personal demons. Around him, Rome burns: twin emperors Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger) are running roughshod over the senate, leading Lucilla (Connie Nielsen) to plan an insurrection with her husband General Acacius (Pedro Pascal).
No surprises with how any of this unfolds (even fewer surprises if you have seen the first movie), and the straightforwardness of the plot makes it clear that audiences should simply behold the spectacle. In the most talked-about staging at the Colosseum, the arena is flooded in a recreation of the Battle of Salamis—a sea battle between the Greeks and the Persian navy for those not paying attention during classical civilisation—and Lucius must fight against against some (remarkably terrible CGI) sharks. In another, Lucius fights a Roman atop a rhino. None of this is any match to Lucius, who does not seem afraid of these challenges at any point, even for a single second. Macrinus attributes that success to Lucius’ “rage”, though the star gladiator is also cunning and smart, which adds to his appeal.
With his aquiline features, Mescal certainly looks the part—which becomes a welcome visual gag involving a statue that shares his likeness—and has the jacked arms and legs and shoulders to boot (a result we can attribute to Mescal’s training regime and four prescribed ready-made meals a day). Mescal’s Lucius has the vibe of a man who has never willingly made a joke in his entire life, which is fine, but a sense of humour—this is a ridiculous movie—would not have gone amiss. If he struggles to sustain a leading man performance – well, it’s a two hour plus movie, and the script is uninspiring.
Hechinger and Quinn have the juiciest roles here as the demented brothers whose grip on an empire is crumbling at an alarming rate (what the plot lacks in originality, the pacing makes up for in lunacy). Geta is the more strategic brother, while Caracalla is suffering from a sexually transmitted disease which has now begun to affect his brain as well. Washington just about takes the entire film as Macrinus, who ascends to the most powerful men in Rome in a matter of days. It’s a giddy, ridiculous rise, and Washington’s performance matches that. (The same cannot be said for all the supporting cast, who occasionally read lines as though their scripts were typed out in Latin.)
And Scott sure knows how to deliver what an audience wants. His direction is frenetic, and the film works well as a Roman soap opera. There are moments of real tension in this corrupt Rome, like when Acasius is welcomed by the emperors on his victory lap through the city streets. As the general moves from the hollering crowds to the hush of the emperors’ enclave, from public mania to private menace, there are emotional stakes that are largely absent from the arena. Scott pairs that with a fun, gossipy undertone throughout; servants hide in bushes, whispers spread through crowds. Even the sillier aspects—an anachronistic newspaper, a pet monkey in a frilly outfit—are enjoyable swings, which seem to say: not everything has to be taken too seriously.
It’s a shame that, among all that campy drama, the emotional impact is minimal: the story is simply so obvious, Lucius’ virtues so pure, and his journey to success so unchallenged that the ending arrives with a shrug, rather than an imperial thumbs up.
Originally published on Esquire UK
Beware: this article features Joker: Folie à Deux spoilers.
What’s black and white and red all over? Joker: Folie à Deux, the desaturated sequel to Joker, which is currently undergoing a public beating. A measly weekend haul of $37.8 million in the US! A CinemaScore rating – based on audience surveys – of D! Both are probably very unfunny to Warner Bros executives.
It seems unlikely, even given a healthier international haul of $80 million, that Joker: Folie à Deux will live up in any way to its prequel which earned a billion dollars (a billion dollars!) and netted Joaquin Phoenix an Oscar for Best Clown (sorry, actor). But you know who might have the last chuckle? Todd Phillips.
You could not accuse the director, so adored for 2019’s Joker and currently being pilloried for ruining that film’s legacy, for phoning it in. In the latest episode of Esquire’s Freeze Frame, Phillips is insightful about his film, which charts Arthur Fleck’s (Phoenix) stint in Arkham Asylum as he prepares for trial and learns to live alongside his Joker alter-ego.
Phillips goes deep on the casting—Steve Coogan’s ghoulish journalist, Brendan Gleeson as a manipulative asylum guard, Lady Gaga’s dour take on Harley Quinn (who goes by the name of Lee)—to one of the movie’s prevailing themes, which he calls the “corruption of entertainment”.
He is talking specifically about the scene in which Coogan’s character interviews Arthur about his misbehaviour in the previous film (he murdered five people). The low-rent journo clearly trying to get a rise out of our beleaguered anti-hero, who cannot help mugging to the camera.
As Phillips says, “In the States, often we put trials on television. We’ll put a murderer like Arthur on TV and sell adverts during the interview. We’ll have presidential elections with graphics that make it look like a wrestling match. If everything is entertainment, what is actually entertainment?”
Good question! Clearly not Joker: Folie à Deux, according to Joker fans. They were not keen for a courtroom drama. Or Lady Gaga in her least Lady Gaga-like role. Or the downbeat ending where Fleck is—spoiler alert—stabbed by a fellow asylum patient known as “Psycho” (well, he is not nicknamed “Cuddly”).
Does the film have the verve of its prequel? Bar a few arresting sequences—like when the asylum guards’ grey umbrellas appear multicoloured from Arthur’s perspective—it certainly doesn’t have Joker’s element of surprise (unless you were expecting a villain origin story under the influence of Scorsese). The musical aspect is intriguing, but Phillips and his cast have been adamant that this film is not one, and I am inclined to agree: musicals should feature some peppier tunes and fewer renditions of “Oh When The Saints Go Marching In”.
The best part of this film, in this writer’s superhero-averse eyes, is what it attempts to say about fame. Arthur, who had become a hero to losers (on and off-screen), in the first movie, finds himself at a crossroads in the second. He’s more famous than he could have dreamt—his trial is being televised, his burgeoning romance with Lee makes the front pages—but more tormented than ever before.
His lawyer, played by Catherine Keener, is trying to persuade the courtroom (and Arthur himself) that he has a split personality and needs better treatment (does that exist in Gotham?). Meanwhile, his lame fans wait outside the courtroom, worshipping a version of Arthur that exists—sometimes? In the past? Certainly, when Arthur takes the stand, to the applause of his adoring fans, Joker is absent. The man stammers to an expectant room, completely sans braggadocio.
“Folie à Deux” (maybe the best thing about this film is the title?) refers to a joint psychosis. Sure, that could refer to Arthur and Lee. But more compelling is the delusion shared by Arthur and his fans.
This week, I watched The Franchise, a brisk TV comedy from Armando Iannucci and Sam Mendes, about the making of a doomed superhero movie. The series is an entertaining look at how Marvel fodder is churned out: decisions by far-off committees, pandering to intense fans, overworked CGI departments.
You end up with ugly, boring mush, even if you have helicoptered in an arthouse European director. Watching that show, I found myself warming to Joker: Folie à Deux: it is clearly beyond redemption for many thanks to its weird perspectives, but at least did not commit the sin of not having one at all. Maybe a few jokes next time?
Originally published on Esquire UK
Nearly a year after its release, I’ve seen virtually no marketing for the PlayStation Portal. Yet, it's selling like hotcakes. I had to find out what I was missing out on. Is this a product of the Sony propaganda machine, or something worth buying? After a month with PlayStation’s newest handheld, I’ve seen how it impresses, and where it disappoints.
But first, let’s talk about the PSP, the PlayStation Portable. In 2005, Sony released its first handheld console, and since then it's become a classic. It was the first portable device that promised console-quality 3D games on the go. It was celebrated for its library (and how easy it was to hack), even when it failed to live up to this promise. Nearly two decades later, and 12 years after its successor the PlayStation Vita, Sony has re-entered the handheld race. Just not the way you might think.
Sony released the PlayStation Portal into an era where the dream of taking your PC and console games on the go is fully realised. Devices like the Steam Deck and ROG Ally do that very thing, and they do it quite well. It would make sense for Sony to release a competitor, one where you can play PlayStation exclusives like Final Fantasy VII Rebirth and God of War: Ragnarök anywhere you are. But Sony didn’t do that... They made this instead.
At SGD295.90, the PlayStation Portal is a great value for the tech, but it’s use-case is remarkably limited. I wanted to love it, and as a piece of hardware I do, but I fear my streaming issues aren’t an isolated incident. If you want to pony up for a Portal, I recommend you do it only if you have a vast PS5 library and scorching fast home internet.
The Portal is a dedicated remote play device that takes the form factor of a PS5 DualSense controller. Imagine cutting a DualSense in half and splicing a screen between each half. That’s exactly what this is. Using PlayStation’s remote play feature, you can stream any game you are playing on your PS5 directly to the Portal, as long as you are on the same Wi-Fi connection. That caveat is a big deal.
As a piece of hardware, the PlayStation Portal impressed me. The 8-inch touchscreen is roomy (not too big) and supports gameplay in 1080p at up to 60 frames per second. It’s a great controller in the first place, and now there’s a pretty damn good screen in the middle.
Most of the impressive (and gimmicky) features of the DualSense carry over to the Portal—including its advanced haptic feedback, adaptive triggers, built-in microphone, and overall ergonomics. The two things it’s lacking are a speaker and a touchpad. The lack of a microphone is mostly no biggie—even though I tested the only game that actually uses the controller, GOTY 2024 contender Astro Bot.
The real fumble with this device is that the touchpad is replaced by an unreliable touchscreen interface. Tap the screen and two transparent squares will pop up to represent the left and right sides of the touchpad. In theory, these work.
In practice, they don’t. The Wired reviewer noted this made Alan Wake 2 unplayable. I didn’t even try to stream a game that was graphically intense over my internet. But in my time delving into Sony’s library of PS1 and PS2 titles, I found that the touchpad is often used as the start button in these emulated classics. On the Portal, this doesn’t work. When playing Ape Escape (which I was inspired to finally play thanks to Astro Bot), I was unable to switch gadgets because the start menu was inaccessible. In later levels, this makes things unplayable.
I had other hardware nitpicks (the Portal doesn’t support Bluetooth headphones), but on the whole, that’s not where my main concerns about the Portal’s usefulness lie. In fairness the next part isn’t even Sony’s fault. The PlayStation Portal is a letdown… because of my internet.
Bandwidth is the lynchpin of the PlayStation Portal. How much you have of it determines your experience with the console. Me? I have good enough internet for working and gaming online with no trouble, but I don’t have a connection that I would call fast, nor would I consider it all that stable. This was the Achilles’ heel of my time with the Portal.
In my month with the Portal, I’ve tested good-looking PS5 games including Ghost of Tsushima, Spider-Man: Miles Morales, Demon's Souls, and Astro Bot. I also spent time with PS4 games The Last Guardian and God of War. In almost every case, the opening minutes of streaming were a disaster. Often, I would switch a game I was playing from the console to the Portal and would be greeted with pixelated, laggy gameplay. Typically, this would get worse before the game paused altogether, then booting me out and forcing me to reconnect. Only after reconnecting did some games perform.
When the streaming works smoothly, it is inconsistent from game to game. Higher-intensity titles didn’t stream as easily as less graphically demanding games. I had more luck getting the PS4 games to run smoothly after the initial hiccups. Ironically, the games that streamed the best were remastered versions of PSP and Vita games like Final Fantasy VII spin-off Crisis Core and the PS4 version of Gravity Rush. High-speed titles like Insomniac’s Spider-Man games or shooter rogue-lite Returnal never quite feel right on the Portal. Online shooters would certainly be a no-go on my Wi-Fi. Sorry, Helldivers.
Another streaming flaw I encountered almost instantly was the inability to stream “streamed” content to the Portal. In language that doesn’t use the form of “stream” three times in a phrase, that means no Netflix, no YouTube, etc. It also means that if you have access to the PlayStation Plus library of games that are only available via cloud streaming, they won’t run on the Portal. A bit of a disappointing oversight.
Overall, some games I accepted taking a graphical hit (and occasional hitches) on, and many others I would rather play on my TV.
The use case for the PlayStation Portal is niche, for sure. If you have one TV in your home that’s often used by others, it is an appealing offer. Especially for the same price as a pair of Sony’s gaming earbuds. Chances are if you are paying for fiber internet already, the price isn't a big deal.
Still, playing the Portal feels limited and tethered. Not being able to leave the good Wi-Fi zone of your house makes it not in competition at all with what Nintendo and Valve have put out there. I also found that seemingly small quibbles like the lack of touchpad or Bluetooth support were more detrimental than they sound. All the small things. True care, truth brings.
That said, these are the types of setbacks you’d expect from a first-generation device. Even if the Portal was flawless, though, it still wouldn’t solve the nation’s inadequate bandwidth infrastructure. Without any improvements on that front, another PlayStation Portal would be a sequel that wouldn’t make much sense. For now, the current model’s effectiveness depends on your access to Broadband.
Originally published on Esquire US
It just feels so wrong. you take a single, gorgeous amaro—which probably has a semi-secret recipe perfected and handed down through generations—and shake the absolute hell out of it with ice in a cocktail tin. Isn’t that a sin against the liqueur gods? These bittersweet liqueurs, primarily from Italy, should be sipped room temperature or slightly chilled following an epic dinner and used in fancy aperitivo cocktails, right?
The original shakerato, the caffè shakerato, has been a fixture in Italy for decades. A bit of coffee, sugar, and ice, shaken and strained, results in something like an NA precursor to the espresso martini. At the historic bar Camparino in Milan, this same technique is applied to the classic amaro Campari. The method has slowly taken off in the United States among cocktail nerds, and it coincides with the broader rise in popularity of amaros. It’s easy to see the appeal: They typically have a lower ABV than whiskey or tequila, and Gen-Z loves a less boozy or NA cocktail. Plus, they’re authentic. If White Claw is practically digital, nothing feels more analogue than an amaro. And amaro labels look cool, dude.
Can you really call an amaro shakerato a cocktail when a cocktail has, by most definitions, at least three ingredients? Well, when you think about the make-up of amaros— mixtures of various sweet, bitter, and herbaceous ingredients—that’s pretty much what cocktails are. They are, in many ways, the original bottled cocktails.
What happens when you shake an amaro is the same thing that occurs when you shake any drink with sugar content: You dilute and chill the drink while everything aerates, emulsifies and integrates. The most important aspect to making a successful shakerato is the aeration. You need to shake it harder than you’ve ever shaken anything before and with less ice (or no ice). That is what will give you your fluffy head.
The technique works differently with every amaro—generally speaking, the higher the sugar content, the foamier the crema. We’ve tested a bunch and picked a few of our favorite amaros to shake (at right). You can experiment with drinks that blend two amaros together, like, say, the Ferrari—a combination of Fernet- Branca and Campari, more commonly served as a shot but, we think, much better in shakerato form.
Perhaps you’ve never liked amaros. Some people find them syrupy, almost medicinal. Chances are, though, that you’ll be won over by the shakerato. The technique softens and lengthens the amaro’s flavours to create an altogether different taste profile—one that provides a refreshing surprise. Love Negronis and espresso martinis but want something different? Again, the shakerato is the answer. It may never be as popular as those drinks, it might never become a TikTok trend, but being an under-the-radar classic has more cachet anyway.
There is no one way to make a shakerato, but there are some guidelines you can use to get the aeration and emulsification right. I find that the simplest thing to do is to shake the amaro with just a few cubes. This makes it easier for the air to mix into the drink. Use a Boston shaker or a martini shaker. And shake it hard. Like as hard as you can, for about 10 seconds. Do it enough and you’ll know when it’s got the right consistency. Then strain it into a glass.
A lot of pros do something called a reverse dry shake, which will give you a more robust crema. After you strain, return the contents to the shaker, shake some more, and then pour it into a coupe. It’s a simple enough cocktail for your party guests to shake on their own, too.
Originally published on Esquire US
I've been wearing smartwatches and fitness trackers around my wrist for years, but I’d never worn an Oura Ring before. I hadn’t considered myself much of a “ring guy,” but I admittedly wasn’t a watch guy before I started wearing an Apple Watch. Now I can’t go a day without it. After wearing my Oura Ring Generation 3 for more than two months, I can almost say the same thing about the tiny sleep monitor that currently lives on my finger at all times.
As a sleep tracker, the Oura Ring 3 is remarkable. As a fitness tracker, it’s not bad, could be better. As a piece of wearable tech, it’s comfortable to wear constantly and consistently, even in bed.
Let’s get straight to it. Does the Oura Ring do enough to replace a smartwatch? No. I think it serves an entirely separate function. To answer the trickier question of “Is an Oura Ring right for you?” it depends on what you’re looking for in a wearable health tracker.
If you want extensive amounts of data about your sleep and daily health tracking, as well as an accurate step counter, yes, it is. Want all that in a package that doesn’t look techy whatsoever? An even better reason to choose one. If you want a completely smart device that will show you texts, calls, and reminders and, most important, tell you what time it is, buy a watch.
My Oura Ring journey began like any other—with a sizing kit. After you choose your make and model, Oura will send you a box of ring sizers ranging from sizes 6 to 13. They recommend you wear the smart ring on your index finger, but—due to a Little League–related accident in my youth—I’ve found it most comfortable to wear on the middle finger of my non-dominant (left) hand. Indecision frequently haunts me, so I was initially worried that my chosen size (11) would be too tight or too loose, but after weeks of everyday wear, I can safely say I don’t think about it too much anymore.
Once your device (it feels strange to call something this small a “device”) arrives, it’s time to download the app. The setup process is pretty easy and the onboarding is gradual. Certain data, like stress levels, resilience, long-term trends, and reports tabs, are inaccessible on day one. To start, I primarily relied on the ring for sleep and restfulness data. In this way, the Oura Ring puts its best foot forward.
Oura offers several style and finish options for your ring. You can opt for Heritage, the original design with a raised plateau segment, or the fully rounded Horizon. Each has a selection of metal finishes to choose from. In terms of tech, the rings are all identical. No plus or pro offerings, just one ring to rule them all. Each Gen 3 has three sensors on the inside of the ring that use biometrics to track daily functions, including heart rate and blood-oxygen levels.
About a month into my time with the ring, I went on a family vacation and multiple people asked me if my Horizon Oura Ring was a wedding ring or an engagement band. That’s how slick it is. It’s that normal looking. The fact that it’s so high-tech and looks like any other SGD450 ring made it easy to incorporate Oura into my daily routine.
Since you are supposed to wear it all the time yet it’s also an electronic device, one of my first questions was “When will I charge my Oura Ring?” The answer: during showers. The ring itself is waterproof up to 330 feet; that means swimming is no problem, and the same goes for doing the dishes, washing your hands, etc. This is meant to monitor you at all times, remember? That makes it a great choice for swimmers who want to track their workouts.
Every morning, I wake up to see how I slept and to confirm the previous day’s activities, then I slip my ring off to shower and back on before I start my day. It ends up fading into the background of my busy life. Sometimes I’ll check the app to see my daily stress levels, but generally I only think about my Oura Ring in the morning and at night.
While heart rate and blood-oxygen sensing are the newest features of the Oura Ring (only available on the Gen 3), sleep tracking is the most impressive feature, and it has only improved with each iteration. This is where the form, factor, and function fully align to accomplish something a smartwatch has yet to do: provide accurate, seamless data about my sleep health.
At first, I felt the insights were a bit obvious. But I soon realised that I trusted the data, since it reflected how I was actually feeling in the form of a score. Now I wake up each day, ready for my scores to tell me how I slept, not the other way around. Even knowing simple information, like when exactly I fell asleep and precisely how many sleep minutes I get per night, feels like a breakthrough in understanding my body. And that’s just scratching the surface.
The main thing I gravitate toward is the scores. Each morning, once the ring determines I’m fully awake, I will get scores from 0 (typically above 50 if I slept at all) to 100 that rate both my sleep and my readiness for the day. I cannot emphasise how much I love these stupid numbers. Seeing a high readiness score can reinforce a feeling that I’m going to have a good day, while a lower sleep score is an excellent validation of why I feel like shit. In fact, this is where the sleep tab of the app truly comes into play. Broken-down stats on REM and deep-sleep time, or my overall sleep efficiency, allow me to quickly compare each night’s sleep with my norm.
Eventually, the app will start providing a Resilience rating. Mine currently reads “solid,” but with proper self-care, I can raise that to “exceptional” over time. This aspect is actually quite vague and difficult to engage with, but another Oura Ring wearer I spoke to called it her favourite feature. To each their own.
The health data is impressively accurate for a device like this, but it’s not perfect, especially the further your health is from the baseline of what’s expected. An example: I was born with a congenital heart condition, a bicuspid aortic valve, so I have a very strange-sounding heartbeat. My heart also has to pump twice as much as most people’s to produce the same blood flow. The point is, I already have a reason to be suspicious of how accurately the Oura Ring can monitor my heart health, confirmed by its rating of my “cardiovascular age” as thirteen years older than I am. Do I have the heart of a man in his early forties? Maybe, but I’m sure plenty of forty-year-olds have stronger hearts than I do.
The issue is, if I were unaware of my condition, this would be concerning. And everything that the Oura app can recommend is general, lowest-common-denominator health advice. Eating fruit and working out won’t actually do anything substantial for my cardiovascular readings. This is all to say, you are probably never going to get life-saving data from this thing. The most it can do is help you get better sleep and exercise more, which can admittedly feel life-changing.
In terms of general health tracking, like daytime stress and heart-rate data, the Oura Ring and app are very comprehensive. It’s easy to get lost in the sauce, and every week I swear either I’m gaining access to new features or the app is being updated. The amount of information here can be a little overwhelming.
When tracking my activities and exercise, the Oura Ring 3 has advantages and downsides compared with the smartwatches I’ve used. As a pedometer, it’s more accurate at tracking my steps and daily calorie burn than my smartwatch. It also provides way more data than I’ve ever gotten from my Apple Watch, but it’s worth mentioning that I don’t subscribe to Apple Fitness+. For this review, I received Oura’s subscription to test out all of the ring’s features, but there will be more on how that works later. Just know that for now, I was very impressed by the amount of fitness data provided. But when it comes to workout tracking and recognition, the ring lags.
This is one of my favourite features of the Apple Watch. When I start an elliptical workout or a bike ride or even a long walk, it will accurately identify it 95 percent of the time and ask me if I want to record the workout. As a result, I always have digital records of all my workouts on my phone, fully automated. Its tech wasn’t always this accurate, but Apple has invested a lot of time and money into it. I can’t say the same for Oura, unfortunately.
For starters, having to open the app to retroactively confirm and log my workouts is one more step than I’m used to taking. Beyond that, I found the functionality often lacking. Once, my Oura Ring correctly identified a forty-minute elliptical workout. More commonly, though, it will misidentify it as (maybe?) a walk, as it does most non-running workouts. Most days, I have to confirm four or five walks in my exercise log, meaning the ring doesn’t know the difference between a trek to the subway and a short hike.
Up front, an Oura Ring will cost you from approximately SGD450 before tax, depending on which style and finish you choose. The newer Horizon models will generally run you slightly more than the OG Heritage design, and fancier finishes like Brushed Titanium, Gold, and Rose Gold will add to the price tag. While that’s not nothing, I live in a city where a cup of coffee rarely costs less than five bucks. Four or five hundred dollars for something you will use every day is reasonable compared with, well, the state of everything else.
What really irks me is the subscription model that’s tacked on to that. After an included free month of fully featured access, Oura begins charging SGD9 per month for access to in-depth sleep insights, heart-rate monitoring, body-temperature readings, blood-oxygen readings—pretty much everything you would use it for.
It isn’t so much the cost that frustrates me (it’s fairly affordable compared with direct alternatives like Apple Fitness+) but rather the dread of that payment hanging over my head every month until I want to stop using the device—all to use its basic functions. What baffles me is how fundamentally useless the Oura Ring 3 is without a subscription. It just feels like another company trying to bleed its users dry when we’ve just invested hundreds of dollars in a product. You’ll have barely unlocked access to all the features after one month of use, making the free month feel like even more of a “lite” version of the true experience than is advertised. A free year would’ve at least been a compromise.
I really, really like the Oura Ring Horizon Gen 3. I like how it looks and how much of a conversation starter it has proved to be. Most of all, I like how it’s confirmed something I’ve always known but never had the data to prove: I get a pretty healthy amount of sleep. My bedtime is way more consistent than I expected. Even a small insight like this has started to change how I think about my sleep and, by extension, my mood and energy levels.
Even as an Apple Watch user for several years, I’ve found a way to slot the Oura Ring into my life and teach me something new about myself. That’s something I can’t say about most products I try. If I ever take this thing off, it’s either because I’m taking a shower or my subscription has finally lapsed.
PROS
CONS
At Esquire, we’ve been testing and reviewing the latest and greatest products for decades. We do hands-on testing with every gadget and piece of gear we review. From portable monitors to phone cameras, we’ve tested the best products—and some not-so-great ones for good measure.
To review this Oura Ring, I tried it out for many weeks before even sitting down to start writing. Plus, I spoke with other Esquire staff members about their past and current experiences with the product to get the fullest picture possible.
Originally published on Esquire US
Just when I thought we'd hit capacity on mid-tier consumer headphones, Sonos made its long-awaited entrance. We've already got classic brands like Apple, Beats, Bose, Marshall, and Sony. We've got luxury plays from Bowers & Wilkins, Bang & Olufsen, and most recently Dyson. Consumer headphones are a multibillion-dollar industry (Statista values it at SGD24 billion globally), so there's a lot of money to be made off our active-noise-cancelling obsession, and there have been a lot of shitty attempts to enter the market.
So, did Sonos do it right? Do the brand-new Sonos Ace headphones move me in any way? Surprisingly, yes. After a couple months of testing, I think these are some of the best headphones available. At SGD699, they're good for music listening and travel, but they're best in class for at-home TV watching.
PROS
CONS
One thing: Sonos Audio Swap. Everything else that's great about these headphones—active noise cancellation, spatial audio, lossless streaming—other headphones do just as well. Audio Swap establishes these as TV-watching headphones, a category where they face little to no competition.
When you have a Sonos soundbar, Audio Swap uses the HDMI connection to pull hi-fi sound from the TV and share it with the headphones via Bluetooth. (Currently, this is only available with the Sonos Arc, but the brand is promising compatibility with lesser soundbars as soon as possible.) For flat living, it's great. My girlfriend and I are both guilty of holding unpredictable late-night movie-watching hours long after the other has gone to sleep.
Normally, there are two options. 1) Movie watcher tells sleeper to wear earplugs and get over it. 2) Movie watcher respectfully turns the sound down so low that the dialogue is impossible to hear. Sonos Audio Swap is the fix we've both craved. The Dolby Atmos spatial audio makes it feel as if you're listening on a proper surround-sound system, but it's all within your own head.
Full transparency, though: This is not a new concept. You can already stream TV audio to a pair of spatial audio-equipped headphones with Apple TV 4K and a pair of AirPods Max. The difference is that the Sonos home-entertainment ecosystem takes it up a notch.
See, since Sonos is already deep into home audio, the Ace has been built into that infrastructure. The most obvious example is in the TrueCinema technology. At the time of this writing, the software is still being worked on for a consumer rollout, but I got a little taste at an exclusive Sonos media event. TrueCinema will use the room-mapping capabilities of the Sonos soundbar to determine what your movie-watching experience sounds like in various positions around the room.
Then it shares that information with the headphones, so when you're sitting on your sofa, the audio sounds exactly the same as when it's coming from your soundbar. And if you walk around the room, the spatial audio centre doesn't move with you, so you get a different listening experience. Sonos is trying to replicate what it sounds like to watch TV without headphones while wearing headphones. An ambitious goal that I think will pay off big.
Yes, they're amazing for travel, music, podcast or audiobook listening, and everything else. But pretty much all the headphones in this price range are. When you're comparing any of these models, you have to dig deep to find differences.
As for me, I split the category into two (a bit arbitrary) subcategories: music headphones and podcast/audiobook headphones. Bose and Sony are podcast/audiobook headphones, because they have the best active noise cancellation. So is Bowers & Wilkins, because its bright house sound is good for dialogue. All-rounders like Bang & Olufsen, Apple, and the Sonos Ace are music headphones. (Beats are in their own bass-heavy category.)
The best compliment I can give the Sonos Ace is that they're the best competitor to the AirPods Max, which I love. The sound is full, from bottom to top. On the low end, you get deep bass and those rich low-mids that make you feel the music. In the middle, it's true to life. On the high end, you get crisp treble and vocals that cut through the rest of it. As expected, Sonos hit all the notes it needed to.
And how do they stack up to the AirPods Max in terms of usability? About the same. They connect quickly, and the Sonos app lets you play with EQ settings. They look good in either white or black. The headband is sturdy, with stainless-steel interior components, and smooth when adjusting. The case is fine. To be nitpicky, I think the recycled plastic feels a bit cheap. But the case itself is sturdy, slim, and great for travel.
Speaking of travel, that's where I think these would overtake the AirPods Max for me. They're ever so slightly lighter but feel just as substantial. The case is hard and about the size of a book, so it's easy to slip into a crowded carry-on without worrying about damaging the headphones. But the biggest win is that Sonos includes a USB-C-to-3.5mm jack in the case. That means no dongles or stupid pretravel purchases. From day one, you're good to go with in-flight entertainment.
If you've already got a Sonos home audio system, or have grand ambitions to get a Sonos home audio system, buy a pair. If you're a frequent flyer who's always wanted a pair of headphones with a better travel case and an included 3.5mm adaptor, buy a pair.
The music performance is great, but it's not miles better than the other options out there. What I can say for a fact is that Sonos Ace headphones are the best home entertainment headphones on the market. If you can drop the money on both these and the Arc soundbar, there's not a better home audio setup available. If you're not interested in sitting at home watching TV through your headphones, maybe play the field.
PRO: Easily the best headphones for watching TV and movies
CON: For music, podcasts, or audiobooks it's not clear cut—on-par with AirPods, in my opinion
Originally published on Esquire US
The Wolverine and Marvel Jesus save the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Six years after the events from Deadpool 2, Deadpool's (played by Ryan Reynolds) peaceful existence as a civilian comes to a halt when the Time Variance Authority recruits him to help safeguard the multiverse. When he realises that his own universe is at stake, he ropes in Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) (and a host of other familiar faces) to fend off the threats of Paradox (Matthew Macfadyen) and Cassandra Nova (Emma Corrin).
If there’s ever a remedy for the Marvel Cinematic Universe slump (causes: Jonathan Major’s scandal; the pandemic; run-of-the-mill storylines) Deadpool & Wolverine is it. First, it’s a great buddy movie. Reynolds and Jackman are pals in real life and you can taste the chemistry between them in the film (Antman and Wasp, please take note). Second, it’s actually fun and it's a lot to do with the wanton fan service. Deadpool & Wolverine exemplifies what a summer tentpole movie should be.
(The fourth wall-breaking helps, sure. But poking fun at the character and actor, who plays them (“Who is your dialect coach?”), as well as at any of Disney's sacred cows. It's a wish fulfilment of sorts that someone else is voicing what EVERYBODY ELSE IS THINKING.)
Third, I'm kept guessing, which is great because I'm very hard to surprise. While there's a narrative through-line of Deadpool and Wolverine trying to save the day, there are moments that cause you to do a double-take. Like the gall that they revealed X-23 as one of the characters appearing in the final trailer. If they are gonna do that for a promo, imagine what they will do in the main film.
Lastly, Corrin’s portrayal of Cassandra Nova is great. It's such a great deviation from your usual villain tropes. Cassandra Nova is equal parts camp and menace with their character and I, for one, would like to see more of Nova.
The thing about fan service, it might get too gratuitous; especially to those who aren't fans. Take the Deadpool Corps. A travelling band made up of multidimensional Deadpools? Great, sign me up. Can't wait for the hi-jinks. But in the end, it feels like the presence of the Deadpool Corps came about because someone in the writer's room opined, hey, wouldn't it be cool if we have this big battle scene involving dozens of Deadpools? and then fail to justify how it moves the story forward.
And wouldn't it be great if Cable or Domino made an appearance? But, we suppose, there's only so much the budget can be stretched.
Dogpool. That's it. Just look out for the face that launched a thousand Titanics.
Oh, you want more? Fine.
Cameos. Loads of them. Even the voice actors.
Or and, as usual, stay until the credits end.
Deadpool & Wolverine is now out in theatres.
An unnerving horror that is upset by its own marketing.
Agent Lee Harker (played by Maika Monroe) is tasked to solve a series of murders from the 1990s where the patriarch, without any provocation, kills his own family and then himself. Aside from the MO, the only thing that ties all these cases are the cryptic letters left behind, and the name that signs them off: Longlegs.
The best sort of horror films are the ones that still stick around after the credits roll. In the company of Hereditary and The Silence of the Lambs, Longlegs cling to you like cigarette smoke. It's palpable; the atmosphere that director Osgood "Oz" Perkins conjures up. He withholds information—scenes are played out in areas where light struggles to take root; bits and pieces of Longlegs (Nicolas Cage) are hinted at or glimpsed in most of the movie. You're kept on tenterhooks before the inevitable tug.
Monroe, who found her sure footing in It Follows, plays the mousey agent Lee Harker. The detective seldom makes eye contact and is a bit of an odd duck but her anxiety is evident, especially whenever she deals with her religious mother played by the captivating Alicia Witt.
You won't get all your questions answered in Longlegs. That might be frustrating to have a lack of closure on certain issues but that's the appeal of the movie. That violent acts sometimes occur without rhyme or reason. In the movie, the Satanic Panic is given weight as the devil (or some paranormal simulacrum of Old Nick) is the entity pulling the strings. Or is it just a convenient bogeyman to point a finger at? We'd never know but, again, it's this sort of uncertainty that lingers.
Longlegs also features a well-trod theme: how children survive their parents. Whether how parents raise their kids is intentional or well-meaning, we bear the marks (or scars) of our upbringing. Real life seem to have spilled over into Longlegs: Perkins is the son of Antony Perkins and his father's homosexuality being kept a secret inspired the film. Cage based his Longlegs performance on his mom, who was a schizophrenic and severe depressive. The hair, the white face, the incoherent utterances, Cage's performance is unforgettable. But on the other side of that same coin...
...Cage's performance may not ellicit the proper reaction from moviegoers.
During my screening, a few patrons started giggling when Longlegs appeared on the screen. Is it from how over-the-top Cage's acting is? Or from nervousness? We don't know but it took the rest of us out of the movie. Then, again Cage's portrayal was egged on my Perkins' directions so maybe the director knows something that we don't.
In what is seen as the ballsiest marketing move ever, Longlegs' production house and distributor, NEON, ran a campaign that did better than "show-not-tell"—they didn't show Longlegs. Instead, they ran clips to set the tone. One such marketing stunt involved Monroe's heartbeat that spiked when she first met Cage in his Longlegs persona. While it created buzz, it also set the bar for how scary the film is unrealistically high. I enjoyed Longlegs and think the movie is in a league of its own but when it is set against NEON's marketing highfalutin claims, I was a tad disappointed.
In short, don't buy into the hype.
Kiernan Shipka, who was in Perkins' The Blackcoat's Daughter (another atmospheric horror), returns here as the only known survivor of Longlegs' crimes.
Longlegs requires multiple viewings to fully pick up on the bits of easter eggs and clues. Like the "cuckoo" that Longlegs utters. There's a theory that "cuckoo" refers to the real-life behaviour of the cuckoos, who lay their own eggs in other bird's nests and trick the host into raising the cuckoo's young. Whether that's the reason for Longleg's "cuckoo", it just adds another layer of lore to the movie.
Also, there's little information about the film's composer, Zigli. He's an almost-unknown to the music scene and all that is known about him is, according to Milan Records, that the composer described himself as a “humanoid vessel for the delivery of sounds and songs.”
Longlegs is now out in theatres.
There's no doubt saunas are great. According to history and thanks to the Finns, we've been doing this for over 10 thousand years. There's just something about heat that soothes the bones and psychologically eases the mind.
Know what's better than a sauna? Applied heat. (Ha, bet you thought I was gonna say a sauna from home. I'll get to that). When the heat is not just in the air—we get enough of that here in eternal summer city—but in direct contact with whatever ailing body part needs it.
This is not just an old person thing, though sauna's marketing could afford to do better. Apart from natural pain relief, heat therapy encourages cardio-like effects, a metabolism boost, and even anti-aging. I recall using salonpas (another one that could do with a better rep) patches for muscle relief as a teen due to high intensity training and injuries.
That's kinda what the HeatPod Sauna Blanket 2 reminded me of. A warm embrace, enveloping the entire body. It's convenient enough that a spa experience can now be brought into your home, but setting up is quite nearly plug and play.
You unroll the double-side zippered bad boy, scooch in and turn on the magic. It's really commendable how quickly the Blanket can get to the temperature set. The second generation being an enhanced version of the previous year's, it currently achieves a maximum temperature that's higher than major competitors at 85°C.
Another meaningful improvement (don't you just love a company that takes feedback seriously) is on the user experience. Not only are controls simpler and sleeker, preferred settings can be saved on a "remember last mode", since we are such creatures of comfort. Precise adjustments can be made easily, but swiftly too, with long presses to bump every 5°C in either direction.
One huge benefit is its design. The quality of its construct looks and feels premium, and more crucially, is easy to clean. The evenly-distributed zero-EMF carbon fiber infrared heating coils are wrapped in SGS-certified vegan leather, which is a breeze to wipe down.
The accompanying pillow and footrest are equally sweat-proof, but honestly, the most useful accessory would be the towel insert. The breathable 100% waffled cotton is custom to the parameters of the HeatPod, like an inner glove that feels more comfortable on the skin.
Essentially, it's a heated sleeping bag. Inside its roomy 180x190cm, you are practically expected to fall asleep. More so after sitting in a cold office the entire day, which is why the end of session alerts are great to safely take that snooze. Plus, given how it folds up nicely in a carrier, you can literally bring this hot nap with you anywhere. Heck, bring it to said cold office.
The zip runs along three sides—top, right, and bottom; which allows it even more varied possibilities. A heated mat should you want to splay out completely, or share the space atop the bed as a heated mattress.
Still, it would be great if it could extend halfway down the left too, just so the arms have the option to stick out naturally rather than overhead. Especially when the port is wired to the bottom left (something I keep forgetting is on the underside as well when flinging the HeatPod open).
Apart from that personal preference, it is tough to find fault with the device. The portability and privacy is truly something you can't get from conventional saunas. Now if only our climate could be perpetually much colder, this would be perfect to enjoy regularly.
The HeatPod Sauna Blanket 2 retails from SGD799.
The song you're listening to heralds the birth of psychedelic symphonies, predating The Beatles by a staggering 130 years. Hector Berlioz, the French composer who wrote "Symphonie fantastique" (French for "fantastic symphony") in 1830, offers one of the earliest musical depictions of a transcendent journey. Celine creative, artistic and image director Hedi Slimane stumbled upon this masterpiece at just 11 years old and was instantly captivated.
Berlioz's composition vividly captures the torment of unrequited love and obsession. Regarded as an "immense instrumental composition of a new genre", "Symphonie fantastique" showcases Berlioz's unmatched orchestration skills, impressing critics with its avant-garde essence. Transitioning seamlessly to Slimane's fashion narrative for Celine's Winter 2024 menswear collection also titled "Symphonie Fantastique", the collection boldly revives tailoring, epitomising the designer's pure sartorial essence.
The fit: Bold and cutting-edge, the garments featured in the film embody Slimane's unmistakable design language in menswear. Embracing the iconic "I" line silhouette—reminiscent of 1960s tailoring with a nod to 19th-century Anglomania—the collection exudes timeless sophistication. Frock coats, three-buttoned suits, and intricately hand-embroidered waistcoats are meticulously crafted from sumptuous fabrics like silk, cashmere, and vicuña. Throughout, matte black, satin, and lacquered finishes dominate, infusing each garment with an unmistakable sense of opulence and refinement.
Standout pieces include iconic motorcycle jackets with cropped hemlines, elegantly paired with 1970s flared bottoms as well as pinstriped peacoats transformed into militaristic uniforms. As with every collection, embellished accents adorn a number of garments, adding a captivating touch. Well-dressed cowboys take the lead in ballooning denim and multi-pocket button-down shirts for more casual proposals from the collection.
The details: Silver hardware embellishments on leather jackets inject that signature Slimane edge into the garments. They create a striking contrast to the refined aesthetic of the collection, all the while maintaining the rebellious spirit of Celine. Wide-brimmed hats and square-framed sunglasses further punctuate the collection's distinctive style.
Three exceptional looks: An embellished golden coat catching the sunlight; a sleek mandarin-collar jacket; and a pin-striped coat accentuated with a velvet collar.
The takeaway: This collection vividly embodies storytelling. Each piece reflects Slimane's current fascinations, meticulously crafted in every detail—from the setting and casting, to the music and garments.
View some of looks from the Celine Homme Winter 2024 collection in the gallery below.
(Editor's Note: This was originally posted last year but we've re-up this write-up due to Oppenheimer's Oscar sweep.)
Get sucked in by the drama and Cillian Murphy's stare.
Now this is a story all about how / the world got flipped turned upside down / with a bomb from the Manhattan Project cadre / here's the life of Oppenheimer (and his thousand-yard stare).
Christopher Nolan isn't making films, he's creating an experience. For his latest trick, he presents the biopic of the father of the atomic bomb, J Robert Oppenheimer. Adapted from American Prometheus written by Kai Bird and Martin J Sherwin, the film chronicle the famed theoretical physicist's life, from student life at Cavendish Laboratory in Cambridge to being the director of the Los Alamos Laboratory to getting his security clearance revoked due to tenuous communist ties.
It seemed strange for Nolan to take up a profile like Oppenheimer (played by Cillian Murphy). Especially, when it's shot in Nolan's preference for the IMAX experience. There are no action scenes, nothing that befits the movie being shot on large format film stock—IMAX 65mm and Panavision 65mm film—(there was an estimated 17.7km worth of finished film stock) but Nolan sees it apt to highlight Oppenheimer on such a scale.
It's quite amazing how it all came together. There's nary a dull moment throughout the film's three-hour running time thanks to Nolan's deft direction, stellar ensemble and immaculate sound engineering. Not content with a linear re-telling of Oppenheimer's life, the film jumps back and forth to key moments and not only that it switches between the perspectives between Oppenheimer and Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr), a senior member of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission (AEC); one in colour and the other in stark black-and-white, respectively.
The sound and music for Oppenheimer is something to behold. Faithful to the physics, the sound follows after we see the explosion. This is also true during a storm, where we see the flash of lightning, followed by the boom of thunder. When the first nuclear weapon test started, the expected sounds of the explosion were sidelined by Oppenheimer's breathing as he saw the conflagration of fire and billowing smoke. In the theatre, we sat transfixed by the near-silence of the explosion before the sound kicked in.
In his second time working with Nolan, Ludwig Göransson took Nolan's advice in using the violin as Oppenheimer's central theme. Göransson said that the stringed instrument could go from "the most romantic, beautiful tone in a split second to neurotic and heart-wrenching, horror sounds".
The best example is the nuclear explosion at Trinity (the codename of the site where it took place). We were at the edge of our seats in the lead-up to the experiment. Which is weird because all the historical accounts said that the experiment went off without a hitch. But how it was edited and soundtracked, you hope the experiment will be successful.
Cillian Murphy, who is well-known for his tenure in the TV series, Peaky Blinders, puts on a defining performance as Oppenheimer. Demonstrating the complexity of Oppenheimer with nuance would hobble a lesser actor but not in Murphy's hands. With Murphy, Oppenheimer comes across as a sympathetic Frankenstein (the doctor not as most erroneously would assume, the monster), a man who witnessed the mysteries of the atoms with awe and, later in the film, as a nuclear shade who is now the self-appointed martyr for ushering in the Atomic Age.
Furthering adding to fleshing out Oppenheimer, Murphy went on an intense transformation by reading up on the Bhagavad Gita, a Hindu religious text that Oppenheimer would quote from and going on a diet that reduced him to his character’s stick-thin frame.
Downey Jr gives one of the better performances of his career as the embittered Strauss, who has a fractious relationship with Oppenheimer. Driven by ambition, Downey Jr displays a man who is an imposing figure in America’s nuclear program but dwarfed by his pettiness against a slight from Oppenheimer. Emily Blunt plays Oppenheimer's wife, Kitty, and she holds her own in this movie. Her deathstare towards her husband's ex-colleague or her bemused reaction during an interrogation, Blunt conveys the hidden pillar of strength in Oppenheimer's marriage.
I'm just glad that Murphy is back to playing the lead for a major film. To my limited memory, the last movies that he headlined were Sunshine and 28 Days Later.
Because there's something mesmerising about the way he stares at you; as though vacant but yet arresting at the same time. I'm pretty sure if there was a short film of just the camera pushing in slowly into Murphy's haunted mien, people would pay money to see it.
I mean, look at him. Now imagine if this was in colour, you will DIE IN THOSE POOLS OF BLUE.
Seven words: NOT SEEING CILLIAN MURPHY'S DONG ON IMAX.
I'm joking. Mostly. I'll explain.
This is Nolan's first R-rated movie and it includes Oppenheimer's love life with Jean Tatlock (played by Florence Pugh). Nolan felt that the intimacy between Oppenheimer and Tatlock were necessary to showcase the couple's connection. There were rumours that this might show full frontal nudity from both actors but, alas, nothing from Murphy. Not even a bare buttock. (We are all about having male actors go the full monty on the big screen. CHILL IT WITH THE DOUBLE-STANDARD, HOLLYWOOD.)
I get that Nolan doesn't want to shy from Oppenheimer's intimate moments but it felt gratuitous. Instead of the sex scenes, maybe it would be nice to have more insight into Tatlock's life and motivations. The character does not seem fully fleshed out and even Emily Blunt's Kitty barely escaped this bare-bones characterisation.
The number of established actors that are part of this cast. Aside from the marquee names like Matt Damon as Lieutenant General Leslie Groves and Florence Pugh as Jean Tatlock, there are other notable faces to spot. Personalities like Jason Clarke as Roger Robb; Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence; Dane DeHaan as Kenneth Nichols; Benny Safdie as Edward Teller; James Urbaniak as Kurt Gödel; Jack Quaid as Richard Feynman; Olivia Thirlby as Lilli Hornig; Casey Affleck as Boris Pash; Kenneth Branagh as Niels Bohr; Gary Oldman as President Harry S Truman and so on.
The only notable person not in the cast is Sir Michael Caine. Having appeared in all of Nolan's production since Batman Begins in 2005, this is the only film that doesn't feature him.
Also, don't forget the end-credit scene that sets up the Oppenheimer sequel. JK.
Oppenheimer was out in theatres and now lives rent-free in our collective heads.
