‘Mother’s got her phone’: ‘House of Dynamite’ is good about nuclear threat — and great about relying on smartphones | film

Since its release, “House of Dynamite” has raised its own repercussions over how accurately the film depicts the government’s immediate response to a nuclear attack of unknown origin. Could a missile launched from the Pacific Ocean reach Chicago in just 18 minutes? Is the decision to respond solely in the hands of the president?

In particular, the Pentagon challenged the film’s suggestion that interceptor missiles launched by the United States have only a 61% success rate in shooting down ICBMs, insisting that the true figure is 100% in the testing phase. (The non-profit Center for Arms Control and Nonproliferation puts it 55% lower than the film.)

However, one of the less controversial technological aspects of “House of Dynamite” – whether you are a nuclear expert or not – is the prominent role that cell phones play in the ongoing crisis. It serves as a touchstone throughout the film’s three-part narrative, helping ordinary viewers fully enter into an extraordinary situation. After all, whether it is an iPhone, Android or any other model, everyone now has their own hotline.

“House of Dynamite” is particularly original in portraying the smartphone, like nuclear power itself, as a dual-use technology – not in the strict sense of military and civilian uses, but as a technology we use in our personal and professional lives. The telephone serves as a tool for intimate human communication and as the ubiquitous avatar of business.

The personal aspect is on display throughout the film, with characters desperately turning to their phones to warn their loved ones of the impending attack. But the film emphasizes the centrality of phones in family life even before the characters learn of the missile launch.

Near the beginning of the film, for example, when Captain Olivia Walker (Rebecca Ferguson) leaves for her job monitoring threats in an operating room, she tells her young son: “Mummy’s got her phone.” Here the phone becomes a symbol of the bond between parent and child.

Later, we meet Secretary of Defense Reed Baker (Jared Harris) taking a condolence call during an early morning round of golf, regarding the recent death of his wife. “We’ve been fortunate to have had 33 wonderful years,” Baker tells the caller. The phone is a source of solace.

When we finally met the president (Idris Elba), he was in the Oval Office talking on a cell phone with his wife, who was on safari in Kenya. This scene highlights the device’s ability to connect two people, a husband and a wife, regardless of the distance between them.

By contrast, in other scenes, the phone appears as a blatant intruder into family life. This is demonstrated when Deputy National Security Advisor Jake Barrington (Gabriel Basso) and his wife interrupt while discussing their future during a traffic jam on their way to work.

The subversive power of the phone is most clearly demonstrated when North Korea’s National Security Agency national intelligence officer, Anna Park (Greta Lee), is alerted about the launch while attending a civil war reenactment with her young son. With a bit of notice, her voice can be heard on the line amid the gunfire, explosions and other battle sounds from the re-enactment. Park also turned away from her son to take the call.

However, there are limits to the blurring of boundaries between the dual nature of the mobile phone, especially for high-ranking government officials. This is highlighted when Walker and Berrington are shown, separately, abandoning their devices at security screening as they enter the White House complex. Later, Walker deposited her phone in a safe room before entering the operating room.

However, the flip side of the phone—as an extension of human connections—asserts itself again when Walker later breaches security protocol by smuggling her phone into the operating room so she can warn her husband to evacuate Washington in case he also becomes a target. The moment goes back to her earlier reassurance to her son about having her phone with her.

For all the evidence House of Dynamite provides about the crucial role cell phones play in our lives, they can’t heroically save the day. This is shown very poignantly when Baker calls his daughter in Chicago but gives her no warning as there are only minutes left before the city is wiped out. Instead, he tries to ease the tensions in their relationship, and is happy to learn that she is in a serious relationship.

This feeling of futility also resonates more widely. In a scene that evokes the famous hotline between Washington and Moscow during the Cold War, Byrington negotiates with the Russian foreign minister in the emergency bunker beneath the White House. Cell phones have been replaced by more traditional phones. But this tense exchange brings no relief or resolution to the bleak scenario.

Far from inventing to avert disaster, the telephone in “House of Dynamite” becomes a symbol of human limitations. Real events indicate that a mobile phone in the wrong hands would be more likely to lead us to a nuclear crisis than a nuclear crisis. Consider President Trump’s recent post on the Truth Social app in which he announced that the United States would resume nuclear weapons testing after three decades on an “equal footing” with Russia and China.

Russia responded that it would follow suit if any country resumed nuclear testing. US Energy Secretary Chris Wright later clarified that the test would not include actual nuclear explosions but rather “system tests.”

If a president used his cell phone in such a reckless manner in a nuclear thriller, audiences might find it hard to believe.