I recently finished watching A House of Dynamite (2025), Kathryn Bigelow’s new Netflix political–nuclear thriller starring Idris Elba, Rebecca Ferguson, and Jared Harris. Written by Noah Oppenheim, it’s a film that drops you right into the nerve centre of a world teetering on the edge.

A single, unidentified nuclear missile is detected, heading for the United States. What follows are 18 excruciating minutes replayed through the eyes of the military, the intelligence community, and the President himself.

The title, as Idris Elba’s President remarks in a line quoting the writer Norman Cousins, is “a reminder that we all live in a house of dynamite pretending the fuse isn’t lit.”

I said finished because the time I started watching it was different from when I actually finished it. I paused several times, not because the story was slow, but because my heart was pounding too fast. I even stepped outside at some point just to breathe. When I returned, the whole thing had gone from a regular movie-watching time to an experience that pressed down on my chest. And just when I feared the worst and hoped for the best at the same time, the film abruptly ended, leaving me to imagine the rest.

Trust me, the rest was unimaginable. Maybe that’s why the writers left it open-ended, because the only way to picture how it could end is if the real thing ever happened. And may it never.

A Lit Fuse

It’s a film about being caught off guard, about decades of preparation humbled by one unlucky miss, about systems that fail precisely when they’re needed most, and about the crippling paralysis that descends when too many decisions have to be made in too little time.

Picture this: in the Pentagon’s command post, alarms blare and screens flash red; in Fort Greely, Alaska, officers are frantically recalibrating interceptors; in the White House Situation Room, no one can confirm where the missile originated. And somewhere beneath all that chaos, Secretary of Defence Reid Baker, upon being evacuated, makes a brief, faltering call to his estranged daughter, a goodbye disguised as small talk, before walking out, removing his security tag, and leaping to his death. A silent protest against the unimaginable failure of a system built on the promise of control.

The world’s most powerful military was suddenly clueless, helpless, and frightened. The Ground-Based Midcourse Missiles failed to intercept. Communications collapsed. And for once, no one, not even the president, knew what to do.

Lessons from A House of Dynamite

1. Life happens behind the scenes, often beyond our awareness

As you go about your normal day, unseen forces are at work deciding the quality of your life, sometimes even whether you live or die. The ten million Chicagoans who would die upon impact never knew that in those seventeen minutes, their fate had already been sealed. We live each day unaware of how fragile everything is. In one of the film’s most moving moments, Secretary Baker calls his estranged daughter, just to hear her voice, but never manages to tell her what’s coming. And she, on the other hand, doesn’t realise that it is the last time they’ll speak. That’s how close and how distant life and death can be.

2. The weight of leadership is real

President Elba’s character once thought the nuclear football was purely symbolic, a deterrent, not a tool to be used. Until the day came when the impossible sat right in front of him. That’s what leadership often is: facing the nightmare you prayed would never arrive. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.

3. Crisis reveals what training conceals

Everyone in those command posts saw and heard things they had never faced before. The alert rising to DEFCON 1. The intercepts failing. Systems collapsing. Designated survivors being whisked away under uncertain orders. In moments like that, training turns to instinct and instinct turns to fear. The calmest people are often the ones who know there’s no playbook for what’s unfolding.

4. Fortune is rarely fair, and luck is never logical

When FEMA’s new deputy was evacuated as a designated survivor, someone muttered, “She’s barely been here a year.” But in that chaos, it wasn’t merit that mattered, but luck. Life is like that. The day that tests your fortune doesn’t ask how long you’ve been around; it simply asks whether your name was on the list.

5. We can’t be too prepared, but we can be grounded in hope

All the systems, budgets, and simulations failed. What remained was faith and the trembling belief that maybe, somehow, it wouldn’t all end in fire. Preparation can take us far,, but hope carries us the rest of the way. And maybe that’s the lesson the movie wanted to leave us with: that the world may be wired for destruction, but we’re wired for hope.

Watch it and watch it again!

A House of Dynamite serves as a mirror held up to a world that pretends to be safe because it’s uncomfortable to imagine otherwise. It’s unsettling, brilliant, and brutally honest. It’s the kind of film you don’t just watch but survive.

So, if you’ve seen it, watch it again, this time, with intent. Watch for the silences between orders, the faces behind the screens, the fear behind the protocol. And if you haven’t, find it on Netflix, and prepare to be moved, disturbed, and awakened. Because, in truth, we all live in a house of dynamite.