“As a filmmaker you’re looking for gaps in the culture, pop culture at least; you’re looking for things that haven’t been addressed in movies,” Mr. Nolan said, “And Dunkirk, for whatever reason, has never been addressed in modern cinema.”

In person, Mr. Nolan, 46, exudes the intelligence and focus that inform his meticulously plotted films. He grew up in Chicago and London, but his accent, mien and look — floppy schoolboy hair, trousers, blazer and Oxford button-down — is British all the way. His blistering success — his nine films have pulled in billions of dollars — has also meant that he is now an old hand at sit-down interviews. While he was not at all perfunctory in our chat, there was a faint air of, “Right, let’s get on with things.” He is also, not surprisingly, a rather serious man, and did not exhibit a shred of either the British tendency to self-deprecate or that Hollywood tic of trying to win over and charm.

Mr. Nolan did allow that the run up to the release of “Dunkirk” had left him somewhat of a nervous wreck.

“It’s terrifying, it’s the worst, yeah, I hate it, I hate it,” he said. “You make the film for an audience, you want to get it out there in the widest way possible, and the broadest way possible, but it never gets any easier.”