The release of new Netflix titles exploring nuclear tensions has coincided with a striking real-world development: Russia’s claim that it has successfully tested a nuclear-powered cruise missile with virtually unlimited range. The weapon, named 9M730 Burevestnik, has reignited global debate over the future of nuclear deterrence and the boundaries between fiction and reality.
Earlier this month, audiences were drawn into stories of geopolitical brinkmanship through the streaming platform’s releases — The Diplomat’s latest season and Kathryn Bigelow’s film A House of Dynamite (AHD). Though fictional, both productions introduced a common theme: a weapon capable of overturning the long-standing balance of global security. In The Diplomat, the storyline featured Poseidon, an underwater, nuclear-armed torpedo that Russia has long claimed to be developing. A House of Dynamite, on the other hand, focused on America’s vulnerability in the face of a hypothetical nuclear attack, so convincingly that the Pentagon had to issue an internal clarification defending the reliability of its real-world missile defence systems.
The cinematic coincidence turned uncanny when, soon after, Russian President Vladimir Putin announced the real-world success of the Burevestnik, describing it as a “unique weapon.” This cruise missile, powered by a nuclear reactor and theoretically capable of remaining airborne indefinitely, immediately drew comparisons with the fictional devices depicted on screen. The question quickly arose: had reality begun to mirror Netflix’s imagination?
Both the Poseidon and Burevestnik first captured global attention in 2018, when Moscow unveiled them as part of its “superoruzhie” or “super weapons” program. Of the six unveiled systems, only two — the Kinzhal and Zircon hypersonic missiles — have been used in actual combat. Independent verification of Burevestnik’s performance, however, remains limited. Many Western analysts view the project as more symbolic than practical, intended to signal Russian technological prowess rather than to provide a genuine strategic edge.
Despite limited public information, open-source researchers have pieced together a tentative understanding of Burevestnik’s design. Unlike conventional intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs), which travel in predictable arcs through space before re-entering the atmosphere, cruise missiles fly at low altitudes, skimming terrain to avoid radar detection. They are jet-propelled and steerable, but their low-level flight typically limits range and fuel efficiency. Burevestnik’s nuclear propulsion, however, potentially removes that constraint — giving it theoretically unlimited range and endurance. According to Russian military chief Valery Gerasimov, a recent test saw the missile travel roughly 14,000 kilometres in a 15-hour flight, far exceeding any conventional cruise missile’s capacity.
Still, experts remain unconvinced that this new weapon represents a revolutionary breakthrough. Most major nuclear powers, including Russia, already possess ICBMs that can reach any target on Earth. Moreover, history shows that ballistic missiles, not cruise missiles, tend to be more effective in overwhelming sophisticated defence systems. The recent Iran-Israel conflict underscored this when Iran’s barrage of ballistic missiles caused far more damage than its slower, low-flying cruise weapons.
In that context, the Burevestnik’s impact may be more psychological than strategic. Its subsonic speed makes it easier to intercept, while its nuclear propulsion poses immense technical and environmental risks. Western military planners also note that NATO’s evolving detection and interception systems could adapt quickly to counter such weapons.
Ultimately, the Burevestnik’s test underscores the return of Cold War-style signalling — an era when nations sought to demonstrate superiority through ever more dramatic military technologies. While Russia’s announcement has stirred unease, most defence experts agree that it does not fundamentally alter the global balance of power. Instead, it adds another layer of uncertainty to an already fragile nuclear order, increasing the chances of miscalculation or escalation.
In essence, Russia’s real-life test mirrors the cinematic tension of A House of Dynamite: a world where the illusion of safety can vanish in an instant, and where the pursuit of deterrence risks becoming a race toward self-destruction.
