Empire gave 11 films a perfect 5/5 in six months. Perfection is cheap.

Dan Jolin has given Oppenheimer the maximum possible score on a five-point scale, which means he believes this film cannot be improved upon in any way. Not the pacing. Not the Rami Malek subplot that goes nowhere like a GPS with no signal. Not the fact that Emily Blunt's character exists primarily to drink and look disappointed, which is less a performance than my average Tuesday. Five out of five. Perfect. Flawless. The Platonic ideal of cinema. Bold claim, Dan.

The review itself reads like it was written in a state of post-screening euphoria — that dangerous 45-minute window after the credits roll where every film feels like a masterpiece and every critic feels like they just witnessed the birth of a new art form. Jolin deploys the word 'towering' in his opening paragraph, which is the film critic equivalent of a chef kissing his fingers. He describes Nolan's direction as 'masterful,' the performances as 'extraordinary,' and the sound design as 'immersive.' These are not insights. These are refrigerator magnets for film students.

What Jolin conspicuously avoids discussing is whether a three-hour film about nuclear physics needs to be structured like a courtroom thriller, or whether Nolan's obsessive non-linear editing actually serves the story or just makes simple scenes feel complex through obfuscation. These are the questions a 5/5 review should answer — because if you're going to claim perfection, you need to anticipate every possible objection. Instead, Jolin waves away complexity with superlatives, which is not criticism but fandom with a press badge.