hen a society collapses, where do the billionaires go? In Billionaires’ Bunker, the new Spanish thriller series from Money Heist creators Álex Pina and Esther Martínez Lobato, the answer is: down. Deep underground into a luxury shelter built to preserve wealth, power and the illusion of control in a world on fire. But what happens when you seal off the rich and powerful together with their secrets, grudges and paranoia? Netflix’s eight-part series attempts to find out.

Set in the opulent, high-tech confines of the Kimera Underground Park, the show introduces us to two billionaire families who take refuge there as the threat of nuclear war looms. From the first episode, Billionaires’ Bunker establishes a stylish yet tense atmosphere — part psychological thriller, part social commentary and part mystery box. It is Succession meets Lost, with a dash of Severance in its tone and sense of isolation.

The show’s central premise is timely and potent: in an age of climate catastrophe, pandemics and geopolitical instability, the notion of the ultra-wealthy buying their way out feels uncomfortably real. From doomsday preppers to tech moguls investing in bunkers, this isn’t just speculative fiction — it’s a dramatised distillate of fears rooted in reality. Billionaires’ Bunker leverages the anxiety and tension well, using an enclosed setting to explore themes of privilege, guilt, denialand moral decay.

The ensemble cast is led by Max, recently released from prison and reluctantly returning to his powerful family as they descend into the shelter. His outsider status allows the viewer a grounded perspective on the moral rot of those around him.

Opposite him is Minerva, the enigmatic administrator of Kimera, whose icy professionalism and ambiguous motives give the show its cool, unsettling edge. The two families, each with their own skeletons, rivalries and traumas, become the battleground for personal and philosophical clashes.

The series excels in its early episodes, establishing intrigue through cryptic rules, questionable leadership and vague inconsistencies in the world outside. The viewers, like the characters, start asking: is the threat real? Are they safer underground? Or is this a prison for the wealthy? These questions make the first half of the show, driven by a strong sense of paranoia and claustrophobia, compelling.

Visually, Billionaires’ Bunker is sleek and effective. The production design of the bunker itself is stunning; clean lines, cold lighting and a sense of curated perfection that slowly becomes oppressive. The contrast between the supposed comfort and the mounting psychological tension is smartly used.

Cinematographer Migue Amoedo, also of Money Heist fame, gives the series a polished, cinematic look that supports the suspense without becoming sterile.

The show’s biggest flaw emerges as it progresses: for all its atmosphere and thematic weight, the writing falters. Characters begin as archetypes (the guilt-ridden son, the ruthless matriarch, the manipulative administrator), but not all of them evolve beyond those roles. Dialogue, particularly during emotional confrontations, sometimes slips into melodrama or cliché, undermining the complex moral terrain the show attempts to explore.

From doomsday preppers to tech moguls investing in bunkers, this isn’t just speculative fiction — it’s a dramatised distillate of fears rooted in reality.

The mystery element, compelling at the beginning, becomes increasingly convoluted. Instead of deepening organically, twists are introduced rapidly and with uneven payoff. What begins as a taut, intelligent drama veers into more sensational territory in the latter half. Some of the plot developments feel more like narrative gimmicks than earned revelations.

That said, performances are strong across the board. The cast, though mostly unfamiliar to international audience, brings intensity and nuance to roles that sometimes lack depth on paper. Max’s internal conflict and Minerva’s controlled detachment are particularly watchable. A few secondary characters, especially Asia, a teenage girl whose disillusionment mirrors the audience’s, bring fresh energy and perspective as the series unfolds.

The show’s moral and philosophical undercurrents are its most compelling elements. Billionaires’ Bunker asks questions worth sitting with: what does safety mean when it is bought; is survival ethical when it is exclusive; and at what point does the illusion of control become another trap? These are rich themes and while the show does not always answer the questions with subtlety, it raises them in ways that resonate long after the credits roll.

Billionaires’ Bunker dramatises how psychology and social issues intertwine when privilege collides with crisis. The series highlights the psychological defences of the ultra-rich—denial, paranoia and entitlement—as they retreat underground to preserve their survival while the rest of the world supposedly collapses.

Within the bunker, social issues like class inequality, exploitation and mistrust become magnified, showing how wealth cannot shield people from power struggles, anxiety and moral corruption. The illusion of safety exposes how privilege fosters a distorted reality, where billionaires cling to control through fear and manipulation. From a psychological perspective, the confined space acts as a pressure cooker, revealing how group dynamics, egoand survival instincts can fracture even the most luxurious of sanctuaries, making the show both a critique of social inequality and a study of human behaviour under imagined apocalypse.

Billionaires’ Bunker is a series that nearly matches its ambition. It is a bold attempt to blend psychological drama with social critique, packaged in a gripping, high-stakes thriller format. It doesn’t always land cleanly — occasionally, the writing slips and the plot twists strain belief — but it remains a visually engaging, thematically provocative ride.

While not as tight or emotionally precise as Money Heist, Billionaires’ Bunker is a worthy entry in the growing genre of “dystopia for the rich.” It is best enjoyed not for airtight plotting, but for the questions it asks about wealth, survival and the walls we build — literal and metaphorical — to keep the world at bay.

The writer has a degree in psychology with a minor in mass communication. She can be reached at ukmaryam2@gmail.com