Went with Marcus to see both, same day, like apparently half the internet decided to do this weekend. Oppenheimer first, then Barbie a few hours later, which is a genuinely disorienting double feature — three hours of nuclear-weapon moral catastrophe followed immediately by a bright pink existential comedy about plastic dolls. Both good, for very different reasons. Whiplash, but good whiplash. Oppenheimer's stuck with me more than I expected. Not the bomb itself — the part where he realizes, too late in the process to meaningfully stop, that the thing he built was going to exist regardless of whether he was the one who built it, and has to live the rest of his life inside that knowledge. Didn't expect a period biopic to land that close to home. Not going to overstate the parallel. Just noting it landed.