A House Of Dynamite: A 50 Billion Dollar F@#&ing Coin Toss?

I love watching films by certain filmmakers because you know that, regardless of the story, they’ll be well-made. One of those is Kathryn Bigelow and her latest A House of Dynamite, written by Noah Oppenheim. And while the production is expectedly solid, we shall dive into the screenplay.

When a lone intercontinental missile is headed toward the U.S., with 19 minutes to respond, we track 3 departments and how they deal with the response. The urgency is real. The script is structured so we see it from 3 vantage points (here’s looking at you, Rashomon): the White House Situation Room, the military command center, and the President, giving us a sense of the key perspectives on the crisis.

One thing that works well is the procedural realism (or at least perceived realism, because hey, we have no idea what actual realism in this situation looks like), but it feels real. And that’s great.  Alerts, radar feeds, chain of command, nuclear-launch protocol, DEFCON levels—all feel appropriate and create a sense of “this could happen” rather than “this is some serious sci-fi.”

But therein lies the rub. Because once we establish the premise (missile incoming, a few minutes to respond), we essentially re-witness the same crisis three times, just from a new viewpoint. This makes the first third the strongest, and that is never a good thing, because, as we all know, stories need to escalate. Unfortunately, in A House of Dynamite, by the second and third passes, you start thinking: “Incoming missile, 19 minutes. OK, got it. What now? Because the new perspectives don’t add enough new information, escalations, or stakes to justify the repeat. Some call this a stagnation of momentum. I call it flatlining.

There are several potential solutions for this: (a) use the first round as a set-up and cut it shorter so that additional information may be released during rounds 2 (build) and 3 (payoff). Or (b), show the difference of the events unfolding from the different vantage points (here’s looking at you, Rashomon), because it may not be the same story from various points of view. Or (c) intercut the 3 groups of characters, so that we can see their reactions to the escalation and raised stakes. And yes, I know this would alter the strict 3-vantage-point-in-succession concept, but who cares… is the goal to stick to a preconceived structure or tell the best possible story? Methinks we know the answer to that.

The screenplay tries to humanize the crisis by adding personal elements: a mother working in the Situation Room, a defense secretary worrying about his daughter, a guy planning to propose —in other words, people who are more than their titles. These bits help tether the high-level threat to something somewhat personal. Overly dramatic exploitations usually feel dull and gratingly false, but this felt like it missed panicked calling to your loved ones, more explicit expressions about what’s going on, that sort of stuff. The characters were too controlled, and granted, they are highly classified, but damn it… a missile is hurling towards their loved ones; they’d be demon-dialing their family and friends. This made the high-functioning officials feel a little idealized and unrealistic. Everyone knows what the protocol is, everyone acts honorably under tremendous pressure—but that leaves fewer messy, human flaws to latch onto. A screenplay about crisis and chaos begs for some more personal breakdowns, confusion, and human failure. A bit more than a guy vomiting in the end.

The other element that raised a question was the lack of Plan B. After the intercept fails, everyone goes from action, action, action to waiting, waiting, waiting. There’s no Plan B? Really? We're not expecting Slim Pickens riding a bomb, but something. Fighter jets? Evacuations? Plus, that waiting period would have been ideal for raising the personal stakes and showing some of that personal panic, chaos, and confusion.

Things that were great (besides Rebecca Ferguson and Idris Elba and frankly the entire cast): presenting the “menu” of response options to the president. Like it's a fast food order. Brilliant. And the line: “So it’s a fucking coin toss? That’s what $50 billion buys us?” Best line in the film. Banality meets absurdity in the best of ways to underscore the underlying theme...if this were reality...we'd be proper f'd. 

And finally, the ending. The screenplay remains ambiguous about key outcomes. Bold choice. This is not Independence Day. We don’t find out who launched the missile. We don’t see whether the U.S. retaliates. We don’t know how it all ends. It’s intentional because identifying a villain would give us an easy answer, but the writer wants the following question to hang in the air: Are we living in a world with this kind of risk? 

A House of Dynamite is a tight screenplay. With some tweaks, it could have been even tighter. But even so, the tension remains high enough that we are not taken out of the story. In a world that could very much be ours, sticking with open-ended discomfort rather than providing a neatly packaged, clean resolution seems to be the point. And a brave choice at that, as it will no doubt bug the living daylights out of the neatly-packaged-clean-resolutions crowd.

Writer: Noah Oppenheim

Director: Kathryn Bigelow