There is nothing wrong with an inconclusive ending. Many popular films — some even cult classics, without a shred of doubt — have ended on a note that invites speculation many decades later. Think The Shining. Think Donnie Darko. Think The Inception. But what about an ending which is not really an ending, ambiguous or otherwise? One which builds its tension to claustrophobic levels in the first hour and then allows it to inexplicably dissipate in the next? A House of Dynamite — Kathryn Bigelow’s latest look at how we could be seconds away from being wiped out of existence in this age of nuclear weaponry — is that kind of film. As one review aptly noted about this film — A House of Dynamite is good... until it isn’t.
Streaming on Netflix after a limited run in US and UK theatres, A House of Dynamite is the kind of film one could call equity cinema — thought-provoking subject, rich ensemble cast and a plot that feels more relevant now than ever before. That it comes from Bigelow — the maker of films like The Hurt Locker and Zero Dark Thirty, who has firmly established herself for her dynamic, visual storytelling, critical theory and for fashioning narratives with complex characters in high-stakes situations — makes it a shoo-in during the award season. Though crafted competently for the most part, this is the kind of film that will ultimately leave you scratching your head.
With a running time of a little less than two hours, A House of Dynamite kicks off with a chilling message: “At the end of the Cold War, global powers reached a consensus that the world would be better off with fewer nuclear weapons.... That era is now over.”
Next, we are transported to a series of Situation Rooms in what is said to be the most powerful country in the world. What starts off as a regular day for its many players — all of who are tied to protecting the US from attacks of an annihilatory nature — quickly escalates into a war-like situation.
The scenario is this: a missile, probably a nuclear ICBM (Bigelow expands the acronym on screen as “Intercontinental ballistic missile”, like she, and writer Noah Oppenheim do for all the other jargon that follow) has been launched. The US’s sophisticated satellites — at one point, a key character screams in frustration: “Is this what we have paid $50 billion for?” — have failed to establish the origin of the launch or the perpetrator nation behind it. The GBI (Ground-Based Interceptor) has failed to counter it, and it continues to be inbound.
As seconds tick by, it becomes a certainty that the missile, unless it malfunctions, will certainly hit Chicago — killing 10 million Americans. The US going to crisis mode causes adversarial nations to react accordingly, and go on their own hair-trigger alerts. The country’s top defense brass advises a counter-strike without knowing the culprit, which could induce a full-scale retaliation.
The same play of events — about 20 minutes long — is followed through a number of Situation Rooms. The first is led by Rebecca Ferguson inside the White House, the second by the combatant commander (played by Tracy Letts), another by Secretary of Defense (Jared Harris). They all weigh the situation — going from controlled to panicked within minutes — even as they all look towards the President of the US (Idris Elba appears late into the film) for a decision.
The ticking time-bomb atmosphere is gradually built well and dialled up to 100, but playing out the same scenario through different Situation Rooms results in evaporating the tension. A House of Dynamite isn’t Rashomon, with each retelling spelling out contradictory facts; in Bigelow’s world, each reset simply shows the same story from different sides. It also has the effect of de-escalating any panic reaction the viewer might have — when we have been through the sequence once before, it is less harrowing on repeat. If the idea was to create extra tension by continually going back to zero and ramping up to 100mph, the end result is merely a series of deflations that keeps slowing the momentum.
What helps realise this squandered potential, but only to a certain degree, is the superlative cast. This is a film peopled with some formidable performers and they carry the shaky narrative forward as much as they possibly can. Until A House of Dynamite, as mentioned at the start, hurtles towards an ending which doesn’t feel like one. Its biggest crime? Basing Idris Elba on what is clearly Barack Obama, but making him sound like Donald Trump. We are well and truly doomed.
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