by Tim Gordon
Kathryn Bigelow has always thrived at the intersection of adrenaline and politics. From The Hurt Locker to Zero Dark Thirty, her films dissect the fragile psychology of people forced to make impossible decisions in moments of global consequence. With A House of Dynamite, she returns to familiar territory and raises the stakes higher than ever.
The film imagines the unthinkable: a nuclear missile breaching U.S. airspace with less than twenty minutes before impact. Told in four sections, it unfolds like a ticking clock, each chapter offering a perspective inside the White House and across the military chain of command as officials scramble to act.
Written by Noah Oppenheim (Jackie, Zero Day), the screenplay dials up the tension immediately. Bigelow grounds the spectacle in unnerving realism, avoiding glossy disaster-film bombast for the creeping dread of systems stretched to their breaking point. The genius of the setup is its plausibility. For all the contingency plans and protocols, A House of Dynamite makes chillingly clear that when missiles are in the air, there may be no Plan B.
Bigelow incorporates tropes we’ve seen before in tense Situation Room debates, generals demanding action, clocks counting down, and leaders making impossible calls, but sharpens them until they sting anew. Her pacing, framing, and use of silence make the film relentlessly stressful. These aren’t clichés but rituals of power and panic, reframed to feel terrifyingly present.
Anchored by Idris Elba as the President, trying to project calm while visibly shaken, the ensemble cast is uniformly strong. Rebecca Ferguson provides steel and focus as Captain Olivia Walker. Jared Harris, as the Secretary of Defense, brings nervy precision, while Tracy Letts embodies the hawkish voice pushing for retaliation. Anthony Ramos, Moses Ingram, Greta Lee, and Jason Clarke each contribute urgency and specificity, ensuring no role feels wasted.
What sets Bigelow apart is her command of tension. She avoids spectacle for a slow boil, letting contradictions collide until the situation feels out of control. Stark, confined cinematography heightens the claustrophobia, while even wide shots of missile silos and command centers feel imbued with inevitability.
The third act wobbles under the weight of its ambition, introducing threads that don’t fully land, but the ending regains its footing with a jarring immediacy that leaves audiences shaken. It’s not a flawless film, but perfection isn’t Bigelow’s goal; it’s impact, and on that front she delivers.
The first woman ever to win the Academy Award for Best Director, Bigelow again proves why she remains one of cinema’s most commanding voices. She guides this ensemble with unnerving control, layering tension so meticulously that even small exchanges feel charged with history and consequence.
Eighty years after the U.S. first deployed atomic weapons, A House of Dynamite feels both timeless and urgently contemporary. It’s a sobering reminder of how fragile the systems we trust truly are, and how swiftly order can collapse under pressure. With its riveting ensemble cast and Bigelow’s sharp, unflinching eye, the film doesn’t just entertain, it unsettles.
Grade: B+