Note: This review was originally published as part of our 2025 Venice coverage. A House of Dynamite arrives in theaters on October 10 and on Netflix on October 24.
If human life were to essentially grind to a halt tomorrow, would it be due to a) the itchy trigger finger of a military hothead, b) the low accuracy rate of even the best interceptor missiles, or c) some other cocktail of worst-case scenarios? These are some of the options being assessed in A House of Dynamite, Katheryn Bigelow’s first movie in eight years and a story as combustible as its title suggests. Idris Elba, Rebecca Ferguson, Jared Harris, and Jason Clarke all feature, but the star of the show is a single, rogue nuclear missile. This unseen, unexpected harbinger of doom is headed for Chicago and set to blow in twenty minutes––unless those in power can find a way to avoid catastrophe.
The story is split into three parts, each covering roughly the same half-hour, each told from a different pair of perspectives, and each basically ending with the same cliffhanger, which inherently brings diminishing returns. The first of these takes place in both the belly of the White House (where Ferguson, the standout, holds court) and a missile-launch base (where Anthony Ramos gives the orders). The second focuses on a gung-ho general (Tracy Letts), who suggests a pre-emptive counterstrike, and a nervous NSA advisor (Gabriel Basso, in a notable rebrand from playing JD Vance), who advocates for calm. For the clincher, we get a self-serving defense secretary (Jared Harris), about 10 seconds of Kaitlyn Dever as his daughter, and finally the president himself (Idris Elba). Various things don’t go to plan.
A House of Dynamite is written by Noah Oppenheim, the man behind Pablo Larraín’s excellent Jackie and the recent Netflix series Zero Day, a show that shares certain of Dynamite‘s less-effective aspects. The level of detail is impressive, yet the mood is occasionally light to the point of goofy, and goofiness can easily lead to farce––at one point, which drew a considerable laugh at the Venice press screening, a character attempts to rise to the historical occasion by quoting something he heard on a podcast. More often than not, however, Bigelow holds things together. She knows how to keep an audience on their toes and does so here with relentless efficiency––if anything, whatever respite the movie gives you will probably be spent worrying about the fragility of it all.
For a director whose more recent output has earned her a reputation for capturing the political zeitgeist in all its murky uncertainties, however, the bluntness of Bigelow’s latest comes as a shock. A House of Dynamite is a scarier, less preachy movie than the likes of Don’t Look Up, but it’s no less didactic or unsubtle in what it’s trying to say. The movie was also produced by Netflix and––though shot by Bigelow regular Barry Ackroyd and boasting some impressive sound design––carries the streaming giant’s unremarkable house style. While I’m aware that few will get to see it on a screen as big as Venice’s Salle Darsena, I struggle to think of a memorable image amongst its rooms, screens, video-conference calls, and drone shots. At her best, Bigelow is a true visual stylist––is it wrong to expect a little more? Regardless, A House of Dynamite is a ruthlessly effective thriller, nothing if not timely, and has the potential to be seen by a gazillion eyeballs. These are all good things.
A House of Dynamite premiered at Venice Film Festival and will open in theaters on October 10 and arrive on Netflix on October 24.
The post A House of Dynamite Review: A Ruthlessly Effective Thriller first appeared on The Film Stage.
