The position of director, not only in Hollywood but worldwide, has been predominantly taken by the male of the species. It’s no surprise then that men win all the awards and accolades in that, and many other categories.

So much so that it wasn’t until 2008’s The Hurt Locker, that the first woman – Kathryn Bigelow – received the Oscar for direction.

Since then Bigelow has been fairly quiet behind the camera, having filmed only two further films, with the last one being 2017’s Detroit.

Her latest, coming eight years later, is this, the politically-charged A House of Dynamite.

It has been a fairly quiet time for the United States of America – until now. On the surface at least it remains the same, but an incident peaks the interest of the army surveilling the skies.

A missile appears on their radars, and they calculate its trajectory, which is for US shores. They follow protocol, and put the news on the chain of command.

They attempt a few interception procedures, but as the hours pass, the missile becomes a serious threat to a US destination, but what should they do about it?

Bigelow has built somewhat of a name for herself as a particular type of director but this is less action, and more reaction.

It is an exhausting amount of shots within scenes, of various actors, including Rebecca Ferguson, Tracy Letts, Jared Harris, Jason Clarke, and Idris Elba as the President, all reacting to the development of the news in close-ups.

There is a palpable tension from the film’s direction, that’s built upon the fact that the missile’s origin is all too vague, not being associated with one country which makes it all so mysterious.

But this one-sidedness drags out way too long, and results in a number of single responses to it, with the broader picture never really seen.

And with the narrative going in an inescapable direction, the finale is woefully flat, having the same kind of impact of a dud bomb.

Even its title evokes something explosive, its ending equates to a passing puppy relieving itself on the fuse, so that we see nothing, leaving us all with a great sense of displeasure.

Bigelow films it with an action eye, with tense close-ups and many shaky-cams, but instead of there being bang being detonated, it’s all whimper.