Category: Netflix
How the right got Dave Chappelle wrong
For years, Dave Chappelle has been treated as a kind of honorary dissident on the right. Not because he ever pledged allegiance, but because he irritated the correct people. He mocked pronouns, needled sanctimony, and refused to bow. That was enough. In a culture addicted to easy binaries, irritation became endorsement. Chappelle was recast as the anti-woke jester, the last free man in a room full of rules.
“The Unstoppable…” puts an end to that fantasy.
The right’s long flirtation with Chappelle rested on a misunderstanding. He was never an ally. He was a contrarian whose targets briefly overlapped with conservative concerns.
As the Netflix special begins, Chappelle emerges on stage wearing a jacket emblazoned with Colin Kaepernick’s name across the back, a symbol doing more work than most monologues. It is declarative. Kaepernick, a distinctly mediocre quarterback who parlayed a declining football career into a lucrative role as a full-time political brand, has long functioned more as an abstraction than as an athlete. His protest became performative, his grievance a commodity, his kneel a credential. Before a word is spoken, the audience is told where power, sympathy, and grievance will be placed. Identity is not the backdrop. Quite the opposite. It’s the billboard.
Black and white
From there, the special settles into a familiar groove. Race becomes the organizing principle, the master key, the lens through which every topic is filtered and fixed. America is again framed as a racist hellscape, a uniquely cruel experiment, a place where whiteness looms as a near-mythical menace.
This is not observation so much as obsession. The fixation risks alienating white viewers almost immediately. Some in the audience likely sense it. Others — liberal self-flagellators by instinct — laugh along anyway, even as they become the punch line of nearly every joke.
Chappelle takes aim at Elon Musk, at Trump, at the culture of DOGE-era absurdity, but the jokes rarely travel. They circle. Musk becomes less a human eccentric and more a symbol of tech-bro whiteness run amok. Trump is reduced to a prop, wheeled on whenever the set needs a familiar villain. That might be forgivable — useful, even — if the material pushed somewhere unexpected. It doesn’t. For a comedian of Chappelle’s ability, too much of the set feels curiously unambitious.
Left hook
The most telling moment comes in Chappelle’s account of Jack Johnson. Johnson, the first black heavyweight champion, endured explicit racism. That history is real. That is not in dispute. What is striking is how Chappelle treats that history. Johnson becomes less a man of his time and more a stand-in for black people in the present, besieged by the same “demonic white man.”
And so Chappelle conflates Johnson’s struggles with with the lives of rappers T.I. and the late Nipsey Hussle — and celebrates all three heroes for opposing white America.
As BlazeTV host Jason Whitlock recently posted on X:
This comedy special exposes [Chappelle] as highly controlled opposition, the ultimate plant, a fraud. He pretends to be a fearless speaker of truth to power. It’s laughable. No one with a brain can witness the Charlie Kirk assassination and then argue/suggest that Nipsey Hussle, T.I., and Jack Johnson were/are the real rebels, the real threats to American hegemony. Dave quoted Jack Johnson as saying his life was dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure. He was a boxer with the worldview of a modern gangsta rapper.
Some kings?
And then comes Chappelle’s praise of Saudi Arabia.
Not cautiously. Not ironically. He recounts performing at a comedy festival in Riyadh, openly boasting about the size of the paycheck. He describes feeling freer speaking there than in the United States. Freer. In a society where speech is monitored, dissent is criminalized, and punishment still includes public canings and amputations.
The audience laughs on schedule, applauding with the enthusiasm of trained sea lions. I found myself wondering why.
There is something almost surreal about hearing a man who has spent years describing America as uniquely oppressive extol the virtues of a monarchy where speech is tolerated only when it is toothless. The contradiction is never addressed. It simply floats past, buoyed by bravado and bank balance.
This isn’t hypocrisy in the cheap sense. It is something more revealing — and easier to miss because Chappelle is such a gifted orator. His moral compass isn’t anchored to freedom, but to grievance. America is condemned because it fails to live up to an ideal. Saudi Arabia is praised because it pays well and demands little beyond discretion.
It would be easier if “The Unstoppable…” were simply bad. It is not. Chappelle remains a master of timing. His cadence still carries. The problem is less talent than trajectory.
RELATED: Dave Chappelle faces fierce backlash over criticism of US while performing in Saudi Arabia
Photo by Arturo Holmes/Getty Images
Punching inward
What once felt dangerous now feels dutiful. What once cut across power now reinforces a different orthodoxy. Chappelle no longer punches up or down so much as inward, tightening his world until everything is interpreted through race alone.
The right’s long flirtation with Chappelle rested on a misunderstanding. He was never an ally. He was a contrarian whose targets briefly overlapped with conservative concerns. When he mocked trans men in women’s sports, it landed during a moment of peak absurdity, when the subject was everywhere and ripe for satire. It was easy. It was funny. But it was never a statement of allegiance.
“The Unstoppable…” makes that clear. The jacket, the Johnson parable, the Saudi sermon, the relentless racial framing — all of it points in the same direction.
Comedy, at its best, unsettles everyone. It exposes what our certainties conceal. In this special, Chappelle appears more interested in confirming his own.
Unstoppable, perhaps. But no longer subversive.
Trump is right: Netflix’s merger would create a woke media monster
Popular entertainment has always shaped the public mind in ways politicians can only envy.
Percy Bysshe Shelley once called poets the “unacknowledged legislators of the world.” The idea surfaces memorably in the 1984 Best Picture winner “Amadeus,” where Emperor Joseph II appears more invested in micromanaging Vienna’s opera scene than governing his empire.
Modern technology has magnified that cultural power. Today, many young Americans absorb more of their moral instruction from Netflix than from teachers, pastors, or even parents.
Now Netflix wants to expand that influence dramatically by acquiring Warner Bros. Discovery, a media conglomerate that includes HBO, DC Studios, and franchises such as “Harry Potter” and “Game of Thrones.” The combined entity would control roughly a third of the streaming market and wield unprecedented cultural power.
Democrats understand that politics flows downstream from culture. Allowing Netflix to absorb Warner Bros. would give that worldview control over even more cultural territory.
The scale of the proposed merger raised concerns even for President Donald Trump, who warned last month that it “could be a problem” and confirmed his administration would take an active role in reviewing the deal.
Given the stakes, the question is not abstract. How does Netflix use the power it already holds?
Consider the company’s recent headline-grabbing film, “Queen of Coal,” described as the story of “a trans woman who dreams of working the coal mines” and must battle a town defined by “superstition and patriarchy.”
Inspiring stuff.
Or recall Netflix’s 2020 release of “Cuties,” a French film centered on 11-year-old girls twerking. The filmmakers claimed the movie criticized the sexualization of children. Perhaps that was their intent. Netflix’s marketing department missed the point entirely, replacing the original poster with one featuring preteen actresses in sexualized poses. Public outrage followed, and Netflix eventually apologized.
After George Floyd’s death in 2020, Netflix declared on social media, “To be silent is to be complicit. Black lives matter,” and then set about race-swapping characters across its catalog.
Zoom out further. A report by Concerned Women for America found that nearly half of Netflix’s children’s programming pushes LGBT themes.
Taken together, the pattern is unmistakable. Netflix uses its platform to advance a radical progressive agenda, and scrutiny only confirms it.
The company’s internal culture reinforces the point. Even by Big Tech standards, Netflix skews sharply left. In 2020, 98% of its political donations went to Democrats, compared with 84% at Apple and 77% at Facebook.
CEO Reed Hastings, Netflix’s co-founder and longtime chief executive, donated $7 million in 2024 to a pro-Kamala Harris super PAC and $2 million to California’s redistricting effort last year. In 2017, Hastings told fellow billionaire Peter Thiel that his support for Trump reflected such “catastrophically bad judgment” that it called into question Thiel’s fitness to remain on Facebook’s board.
Hastings has made clear that conservative ideas do not merely deserve debate. In his view, they disqualify those who hold them from serious consideration.
Then comes the revolving door between Netflix and Democratic power.
RELATED: Netflix wants a monopoly on your mind
Photo by Mario Tama/Getty Images
In 2018, Netflix signed a deal with former President Barack Obama reportedly worth tens of millions of dollars. The results included a slate of progressive documentaries and an apocalypse thriller featuring the line, “Trust should not be doled out easily, especially to white people” — a sentiment both racist and badly written.
Susan Rice offers another example. After serving as Obama’s U.N. ambassador and national security adviser, she joined Netflix’s board during Trump’s first term, left to lead Biden’s Domestic Policy Council, and has now returned to the company.
Democrats understand that politics flows downstream from culture. Allowing Netflix to absorb Warner Bros. would give that worldview control over even more cultural territory.
President Trump has signaled that he understands what is at stake. He has warned that the $82.7 billion deal must undergo rigorous antitrust scrutiny.
As Rep. Darrell Issa (R-Calif.) noted, the merged company would exceed the 30% market-share threshold traditionally viewed as “presumptively problematic” under antitrust law.
But Trump’s concern goes deeper. As an entertainer himself, he grasps the importance of the arts. That understanding explains his hands-on approach to reforming the previously ultra-woke Kennedy Center. It explains his plan to commission 250 classical sculptures for a National Garden of American Heroes. It explains his appointment of Jon Voight, Mel Gibson, and Sylvester Stallone as special ambassadors to Hollywood.
And it explains why he should not allow Netflix to build a woke media monopoly capable of doing more long-term damage to the country than any single election cycle.
Influencer exposes frightening terms of service at new Netflix attraction: ‘The right to AI-generate you’
Netflix says it may depict or portray your child’s likeness if you visit one of its venues.
The scary terms of service come from Netflix House, a new “free to enter” destination that has popped up in Dallas and Philadelphia simultaneously.
‘Our likeness is one of the only things we have left in the age of AI.’
Netflix House is described as a “first-of-its-kind, permanent, year-round home” for Netflix-themed games, experiences, and merch. While fans can enter for free, it may cost them perpetual rights to their name, image, and likeness if Netflix has its way.
In a viral video, content creator Rebecca Caplinger explained the frightening terms that Netflix listed on its help page for the venues. Therein Netflix notifies attendees that even their children will lose their NIL rights.
“When you visit Netflix House, we may photograph, record, depict, or otherwise capture the name, image, voice, or likeness of you, or in the case of parents or guardians, of any minor (‘your child’), as you engage with the Experiences, and/or other content offered within Netflix House,” the terms read.
The legal statement continues, stating that “anyone” authorized by Netflix affiliates will gain “irrevocable, perpetual, worldwide, non-exclusive right to photograph, record, depict, and/or portray you or your child” as well as use their “simulated likeness, name, image, photograph, voice, and actions, in connection with Netflix House operations (including, by way of example, for security or analytical purposes).”
RELATED: New Netflix movie reimagines fairy-tale villains as misunderstood — and it’s getting scorched online
Not only do Netflix House’s rules allegedly give Netflix ownership of content featuring you, it notes that any “user generated content” taken inside the venue still relinquishes its copyrights to Netflix perpetually and remains “non-exclusive” and “royalty-free” while having irrevocable licensing.
Caplinger noted that she first saw the terms of service in a TikTok video and had to check it out for herself.
“It’s real, and it’s worse than I thought it was,” Caplinger said, as she revealed she has a background in criminal justice and security.
“I don’t like what they’re doing. … When you walk in there, you’re giving them everything,” she added. “And you’re giving them the right to AI-generate you.”
RELATED: Culture’s great subversion machine has broken down at last
Photo by Richard Rodriguez/Getty Images for Netflix
“Parents should be f**king pissed,” Caplinger told Blaze News. “I am concerned that a lot of parents do not care about child safety online … hopefully it’s just a wake-up call.”
“I don’t think that any company or corporation should be trying to buy out your likeness, I think that it’s a bigger ploy,” the New Jersey resident went on.
She concluded, “Our likeness is one of the only things we have left in the age of AI, our human behavior. So basically you’re selling your human behavior to a robot.”
Blaze News reached out to Netflix to ask about customer concerns and whether or not it believes that simply entering a venue should mean people hand over their NIL licensing.
Netflix did not respond to the request for comment.
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Netflix wants a monopoly on your mind
Netflix has announced an $80-plus billion plan to buy Warner Bros. Discovery — a move that would give the streaming giant control of some of the biggest entertainment franchises in America. Executives celebrated the deal, promising consumers “more of what they love.” In reality, the merger would create a monopolistic monster. For millions of Americans already frustrated with Netflix’s ideology and influence, this feels like a bridge too far.
This isn’t some routine corporate merger. It is an attempt to build an unstoppable cultural behemoth. Netflix is already the largest streaming platform in the country. Absorbing Warner Bros. — one of Hollywood’s oldest and most important studios — would allow the company to tower over its competitors and control a massive share of American storytelling.
The Netflix-Warner Bros. merger would confer unprecedented cultural and economic authority on a company already mired in national controversy.
Antitrust concerns are obvious and bipartisan. Lawmakers in both parties have called the deal an antitrust “nightmare.” Consumers have already filed a class-action lawsuit arguing that the merger would gut competition. But there is another reason conservatives in particular are sounding the alarm: the cultural power Netflix has accumulated — and how it intends to use it.
The culture-war dimension
In recent years, Netflix has dominated the streaming world and, by extension, much of the debate over ideological influence in entertainment. The company has been at the center of national fights over gender, sexuality, race, and the politicization of children’s programming.
Elon Musk triggered a viral backlash when he urged millions of followers to cancel Netflix, accusing the platform of pushing a “woke agenda” into entertainment and slipping social messaging into children’s content. Musk tapped into a widespread, simmering frustration: the belief that major corporations no longer reflect the values of ordinary American families.
Netflix’s programming choices have not eased those concerns. The company has showcased transgender and nonbinary themes in children’s shows, celebrated DEI ideology internally, and proudly curated LGBTQ+ collections “for families.” Sometimes this yields unintentional comedy — like a new show about a transgender coal miner — but other times, the messaging feels more deliberate and invasive.
Now imagine giving the company control of Warner Bros. The concern isn’t only economic. It’s cultural. A combined Netflix-Warner empire would shape what stories get made, which values get promoted, and what kind of entertainment future generations will inherit.
What happens to theaters, communities, and creators?
Warner Bros. has long been a pillar of American cinema. Local theaters depend on major studios to draw families out of their homes and into shared cultural experiences — some of the last common spaces in American life. Netflix, by contrast, has built its kingdom on isolation: individual screens, algorithmic curation, the slow erosion of communal entertainment.
If Netflix takes control of Warner Bros., expect shorter theatrical windows, more straight-to-streaming releases, and a slow decline in the local theaters that hold American communities together. The result: fewer choices, weaker alternatives, and consumers trapped paying whatever the merged company demands.
Netflix insists this won’t happen. History suggests otherwise.
Creators and workers see what’s coming
Hollywood’s creative class understands the danger. Director James Cameron has warned that the merger would flatten artistic diversity and silence competing voices. Industry unions fear that a single corporation controlling both production and distribution will decide which projects get funded, which careers move forward, and which ideas make it to the screen.
A company with that much power can shape the entire pipeline of culture.
RELATED: Can conservatives reclaim pop culture?
Photo by Danny Martindale/FilmMagic
The government must stop this
Regulators have noticed. President Trump has expressed concern that the combined company would wield too much market power. The Department of Justice and consumer advocates are preparing for an aggressive antitrust review. Critics across the political spectrum warn that prices will rise, competition will collapse, and consumers will lose.
Americans want competition — not cultural empires run by a handful of executives who impose ideological agendas while claiming neutrality. They want storytellers who reflect a diversity of values and views, not corporate gatekeepers who see entertainment primarily as a delivery system for political messaging.
The Netflix-Warner Bros. merger threatens all of this. It would confer unprecedented cultural and economic authority on a company already mired in national controversy.
The Trump administration should block the merger.
Americans are tired of corporations that profit from their attention while ignoring their concerns. Allowing one company to dominate such a massive share of American entertainment would weaken the industry and harm the country.
The government must stop this power grab before the damage becomes irreversible.
Netflix buys Warner Bros. and HBO — here’s what it’ll control
Netflix announced a massive deal to acquire Warner Bros. Discovery Inc., a company that controls huge entities like HBO and CNN.
Which networks Netflix will control, however, is a bit complicated.
Warner Bros. put itself up for sale last month, and as Blaze News reported, was simultaneously being eyed for acquisition by Amazon.
‘Our mission has always been to entertain the world.’
Netflix has seemingly won the battle though, with a cash and stock transaction valued at $27.75 per share for Warner Bros. Discovery, totaling approximately $82.7 billion, which equates to an equity value of $72 billion after debt, according to CNN and Netflix.
The deal is expected to close in Q3 2026, which will give WBD a chance to conclude the separation of its company, which has huge implications in terms of which channels Netflix takes control of.
Split decision
In June 2025, WBD decided to split itself into two companies, WBD Global Networks and WBD Streaming & Studios. The split is expected to take effect in summer 2026, after which Netflix will take over the Streaming & Studios company.
RELATED: Netflix features trans teen kissing scene in kids’ cartoon — but it’s not the only one
NEW YORK – JUNE 10, 2007: Actor Ray Abruzzo attends an HBO screening of the series finale of ‘The Sopranos.’ (Photo by Evan Agostini/Getty Images)
This means Netflix will gain Warner Bros Pictures/Television/Games, HBO, streaming service HBO Max, TNT Sports (international), and studio New Line Cinema.
The acquisition also comes with the rights to some of the most highly sought after shows around, such as “Friends,” “Game of Thrones,” “The Sopranos,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and those in the DC Comic Universe. As well movies like the “Harry Potter” franchise will move to Netflix.
CNN not included
There were questions as to what it would mean for CNN should WBD be acquired by a different platform, but the news network will fall under WBD Global Networks and not move to Netflix.
The same goes for networks like HGTV, Discovery, TBS, the Cartoon Network, TNT Sports (U.S.), along with the rights to the NHL, NCAA, and Olympics in terms of sports.
Photo Illustration by Thomas Fuller/SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images
Shareholder service
Ted Sarandos, co-CEO of Netflix said, “Our mission has always been to entertain the world.”
He added that the combination of Warner Bros.’ library and Netflix’s catalogue will “give audiences more of what they love and help define the next century of storytelling.”
Greg Peters, the other co-CEO of Netflix, said the acquisition will “accelerate” their business for decides.
“With our global reach and proven business model, we can introduce a broader audience to the worlds they create — giving our members more options, attracting more fans to our best-in-class streaming service, strengthening the entire entertainment industry and creating more value for shareholders.”
Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav added that the sale to Netflix will “ensure people everywhere will continue to enjoy the world’s most resonant stories for generations to come.”
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How ‘Frankenstein’ was turned into a woke parable — and missed the real horror
Although there has been a long slew of adaptations, parodies, and spin-offs of “Frankenstein,” many fans of Mary Shelley’s famous novel were looking forward to the newest iteration by Guillermo del Toro, which just came out.
In the age of AI, gene therapy, and the modern aversion to death, the story of a scientist who gives life to a creature of his own design naturally resonates with most people. Moreover, a director who is known for his ability to craft fantastical narratives, gothic settings, and unworldly monsters seemed like the perfect fit for such a story.
What could have been a story of redemption and radical love is turned into one of violent horror and unavoidable tragedy.
But with such a tale from such a director at such a time, there was also a good chance the whole film could become an overwrought piece of woke propaganda. Would del Toro stay faithful to the source material, or would he indulge his worst tendencies and recreate “The Shape of Water” with Shelley’s basic premise?
Sadly, he opted for the latter.
Woke makeover
While showing his usual visual flare, del Toro and his writers nonetheless succumbed to transforming the romantic tale of man’s excesses and consequent fall from grace into a woke narrative of a marginalized victim suffering from an oppressive father figure. The monster is not a hideous abomination that goes on a killing spree to spite his creator, but is rather a misunderstood, sensitive outcast who deserves sympathy.
It is his creator, Victor Frankenstein, who is the real monster: Not only does he abuse his own creature, but he murders multiple people and lies about it.
In fairness to del Toro, he probably planned out the film a few years ago when such a script happily aligned with the woke spirit of the time. And he did win an Oscar for “The Shape of Water,” so he can’t be blamed too much for returning to the same formula. How was he supposed to know that this would all become tedious and unfashionable in 2025?
And yet for all that, it’s wrong to assume that the original novel lacked these themes entirely.
Original intent
While most fans and critics examine the science-fiction elements of the novel and the Promethean allegory of man’s creation running amok, an honest reading would show that the novel is first and foremost a Romanticist manifesto. The main character is neither Victor nor his creation but the Swiss Alps that provide the backdrop of every scene, monologue, and conversation. The main conflict is not Victor attempting to stop his monster from terrorizing his friends and family, but finding meaning and unadulterated joy in the world rendered cold and dull by Enlightenment philosophy.
Most importantly, the book’s main argument is the problem of loneliness and how it animates humanity’s darkest impulses. The movie actually deals with this idea somewhat, though the novel is fully based on it.
How else should the reader make sense of all three of the main characters (besides the Alps), who all suffer from profound loneliness? The first character to appear in the book is the ambitious explorer and scientist Robert Walton, who attempts to go to the North Pole. Besides detailing his progress to his sister in a series of letters, he also mentions his lack of a friend. This leads him to immediately take interest in the Swiss scientist Victor Frankenstein, who just happens to be in the Arctic, searching for his monster.
Frankenstein, in turn, also reveals his own introverted nature and consequent desolation.
RELATED: How Disney butchered ‘Snow White’ — and it’s worse than just wokeness
Manuel Velasquez/Getty Images
Even though he has good friends, a loving father, encouraging teachers, and a bride waiting for him, Frankenstein seems to reject their company. Either he feels unworthy of such friends, especially after the mayhem inflicted by his monster, or he desires full control in his relationships.
More than anything, this antisocial stance seems to be the main inspiration for creating his monster. Even though many naturally assume he was driven by glory, power, and morbid curiosity, Shelley hardly mentions any of that. Instead she details Victor’s loving upbringing and beautiful surroundings, only to have him forget all this and conduct a weird experiment of bringing a monster to life.
Then, of course, there is the monster himself, who is quite open about his loneliness and resorts to terror to have a companion. Abandoned by Victor, the creature roams the countryside, fruitlessly searching for a human being who can stand to befriend him. Long story short, this doesn’t happen, so he takes revenge on Victor for putting him in this situation.
Alone, we break
Read through the prism of loneliness, the novel makes a surprisingly compelling case not only for cultivating friendship but also for the kind of dysfunction that results from the lack thereof.
This is especially pertinent for audiences today who are forced to cope with the mass atomization of modern life.
In terms of their social life, most young people in the developed world often resemble Robert Walton, Victor Frankenstein, Frankenstein’s monster, or some combination thereof. They feel misunderstood, have few outlets for their thoughts and emotions, and respond in similar ways to the characters: They seek internet fame, indulge in darker temptations, and even lash out against a world that seems to reject them.
Much like the literary critics and adaptors who miss this larger theme in their analysis of the smaller ones that result, today’s social commentators who remark on the pathologies of the youth do the same.
At the heart of all this dysfunction is loneliness. And behind the social crisis lies a spiritual crisis.
Had Frankenstein abided by Christian teaching, he would accept his limitations and work to overcome his personal misgivings of befriending and serving others. Instead of trying to build a companion for the monster, only to dismantle it in a fit of rage, Victor could have loved his creation, much as God does. Instead of the monster basing his morality on Goethe, Plutarch, and Milton — which all promote epic struggles and titanic egos — he could have picked up the much more available (and readable) Gospels, which stress forgiveness and humility.
Then again, this is Mary Shelley’s story, and she was far from a devout Christian. Similarly, del Toro is also an atheist and likely shares the same outlook on the Christian demands of friendship, virtue, and human creativity.
What could have been a story of redemption and radical love is turned into one of violent horror and unavoidable tragedy.
Created for fellowship
Still, even if such Romantic secular humanism makes for better dramatic tension and suspense, it elides the deeper truth that comes out of the story: Man is not meant to be alone.
Victor’s real crime was not his ambition or curiosity but forsaking everyone around him. It wasn’t an abusive father that led him to this (as the new film suggests) but his willful ignorance of the Father in Heaven. As such, he creates a personal hell with its very own devil.
Even if Shelley and del Toro miss this point, readers and audiences should take heed and confront the problems of loneliness and nihilism in the world around them.
‘A House of Dynamite’: Netflix turns nuclear war into an HR meeting
Netflix’s thriller “A House of Dynamite” very much wants to teach us something about the folly of waging war with civilization-ending weapons. The lesson it ends up imparting, however, has more to do with the state of contemporary storytelling.
The film revolves around a high-stakes crisis: an unexpected nuclear missile launched from an unspecified enemy and aimed directly at Big City USA. We get to see America’s defense apparatus deal with impending apocalypse in real time.
It seems the best Ms. Bigelow, Mr. Oppenheim, and the team at Netflix can offer up is a lukewarm ‘nukes are bad, mmkay?’
Triple threat
“Revolves” is the operative word here. The movie tells the same story three times from three different vantage points — each in its own 40-minute segment. From first detection to the final seconds before detonation, we watch a bevy of government elites on one interminable red-alert FaceTime, working out how to respond to the strike.
This is the aptly named screenwriter Noah Oppenheim’s second disaster outing for the streamer; he recently co-created miniseries “Zero Day,” which features Robert De Niro investigating a nationwide cyberattack.
That series unspooled a complicated and convoluted conspiracy in the vein of “24.” “A House of Dynamite” clearly aims for something more grounded, which would seem to make accomplished Kathryn Bigelow perfect for the job.
And for the film’s first half-hour she delivers, embedding the viewer with the military officers, government officials, and regular working stiffs for whom being the last line of America’s defense is just another day at the office … until suddenly it isn’t. The dawning horror of their situation is as gripping as anything in “The Hurt Locker” or “Zero Dark Thirty.”
Then it happens two more times.
On repeat
In Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night,” Duke Orsino laments a repetitive song growing stale: “Naught enters there of what validity and pitch soe’er, but falls into abatement and low price.”
Or put another way, the tune, not realizing its simple beauty, sings itself straight into worthlessness.
And somehow, this manages to be only part of what makes “A House of Dynamite” so unappealing. Our main characters — including head of the White House Situation Room (Rebecca Ferguson), general in charge of the United States Northern Command (Tracy Letts), and the secretary of defense (Jared Harris) — offer no semblance of perspicacity, stopping frequently to take others’ feelings into account before making decisions, all while an ICBM races toward Chicago. From liftoff to impact in 16 minutes or less, or your order free.
Missile defensive
So thorough is this picture of incompetence that the Pentagon felt compelled to issue an internal memo preparing Missile Defense Agency staff to “address false assumptions” about defense capability.
One can hardly blame officials when, in the twilight of the film, we’re shown yet another big-screen Obama facsimile (played by British actor Idris Elba) putting his cadre of sweating advisers on hold to ring Michelle, looking for advice on whether his course of action should be to nuke the whole planet or do nothing. The connection drops — she is in Africa, after all, and her safari-chic philanthropy outfit doesn’t make the satellite signal any stronger. He puts the phone down and continues to look over his black book of options ranging “from rare to well done,” as his nuclear briefcase handler puts it.
And then the movie ends. The repetitive storylines have no resolution, and their participants face no consequences. The single ground missile the U.S. arsenal managed to muster up — between montages of sergeants falling to their knees at the thought of having to do their job — has missed its target.
Designated survivors — with the exception of one high-ranking official who finds suicide preferable — rush to their bunkers. The screen fades to black, over a melancholy overture. Is it any wonder that audiences felt cheated? After sitting through nearly two hours of dithering bureaucrats wasting time, their own time had been wasted by a director who clearly thinks endings are passé.
No ending for you
If you find yourself among the unsatisfied, Bigelow has some words for you. In an interview with Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, she justified her film’s lack of a payoff thusly:
I felt like the fact that the bomb didn’t go off was an opportunity to start a conversation. With an explosion at the end, it would have been kind of all wrapped up neat, and you could point your finger [and say] “it’s bad that happened.” But it would sort of absolve us, the human race, of responsibility. And in fact, no, we are responsible for having created these weapons and — in a perfect world — getting rid of them.
Holy Kamala word salad.
RELATED: Phones and drones expose the cracks in America’s defenses
Photo by dikushin via Getty Images
Bigelow-er
For much of her career, director Kathryn Bigelow has told real stories in interesting ways that — while not always being the full truth and nothing but the truth — were entertaining, well shot, and depicted Americans fulfilling their manifest destiny of being awesome.
That changed with Bigelow’s last film, 2017’s “Detroit,” a progressive, self-flagellating depiction of the 1967 Detroit race riots (final tally: 43 deaths, 1,189 injured) through the eyes of some mostly peaceful black teens and the devil-spawn deputy cop who torments them. “A House of Dynamite” continues this project of national critique.
But what, exactly, is the point? It seems the best Ms. Bigelow, Mr. Oppenheim, and the team at Netflix can offer up is a lukewarm “nukes are bad, mmkay?” This is a lecture on warfare with the subtlety of a John Lennon song, set in a world where the fragile men in charge must seek out the strong embrace of their nearest girlboss.
It’s no secret that 2025 carries a distinct “end times” energy — a year thick with existential threats. AI run amok, political fracture edging toward civil conflict, nuclear brinkmanship, even the occasional UFO headline — pick your poison. And it’s equally obvious that the internet, not the cinema, has become the primary arena where Americans now go to see those anxieties mirrored back at them.
“A House of Dynamite” is unlikely to reverse this trend. If this is the best Hollywood’s elite can come up with after gazing into the void, it’s time to move the movie industry to DEFCON 1.
