If you've ever wondered what the end of the world would look like with mood lighting and a cocktail program, here's your answer. Netflix's new Spanish series Billionaires' Bunker—from Money Heist architects Álex Pina and Esther Martínez Lobato—has debuted its trailer and poster, teasing a golden, hermetically sealed playground called Kimera Underground Park, where the rich hide from apocalypse and—predictably—each other. The series premieres worldwide on September 19, 2025.
I watched the trailer twice. First for the vibe: lux design, security theater, smiles like knives. Second for the tells: the basketball court nobody uses, the zen garden no one deserves, the therapist's couch that's going to see trench warfare. Gorgeous. Grating. Gorgeous again. That's the point—opulence as pressure cooker. And yes, the Trailer hints at a comedy nerve threaded through a thriller artery; it giggles, then it chokes. (You can watch it on Netflix's show page or via the official YouTube upload.)
Pina and Martínez Lobato aren't just revisiting class conflict; they're staging a family feud in a gilded oubliette. The series orbits two families with old wounds forced into close quarters while the world outside flirts with World War III. If The Platform sliced inequality vertically, Billionaires' Bunker tiles it horizontally—wide halls, wider wallets, no exits. The show runs eight one-hour episodes and is directed by Jesús Colmenar, David Barrocal, and José Manuel Cravioto, with scripts by Pina, Martínez Lobato, Barrocal, David Oliva, Lorena G. Maldonado, and Humberto Ortega. Produced by Vancouver Media, the cast features Miren Ibarguren, Joaquín Furriel, Natalia Verbeke, Carlos Santos, Montse Guallar, Pau Simón, Alicia Falcó, Agustina Bisio, and Álex Villazán.
A quick production note for the nerds (hi, it's me): this isn't a bottle show taped in a broom closet. The team built sprawling sets and treated the bunker like a city with shifting borders. Industry reports flagged the scale months ago; it reads on screen—hallways with the reflective sheen of a new iPhone, communal areas in seductive Bauhaus curves, surveillance monitors like secular confessionals. You feel the oxygen getting thin and the money getting louder.
The Poster—all sleek geometry and doomsday chic—lands like an invitation to a party you shouldn't attend but absolutely will. Key art has that Netflix gloss: minimal, menacing, meme-ready. (Vital Thrills has the “key art unveiled” rundown if you're collecting one-sheets.)
What sold me isn't just the premise; it's the tonal pivot. Pina's sandbox has always been mischief under discipline—operatic plotting with sudden acts of tenderness. Here, the dark-comedy undercurrent feels earned. The richest detail in the trailer isn't a prop; it's the micro-reactions: a smirk clipped into a wince; a toast that tilts toward threat. Somebody's cardio session is going to end in a confession. Somebody's wellness smoothie will be a weapon. Maybe mine.
Dates & essentials (confirmed):
— Global Netflix premiere: September 19, 2025.
— Series page w/ Trailer & Teaser: Netflix official listing.
— Creators / writers / directors / principal cast: as above, from production trade coverage. Cineuropa
Why this matters (beyond the shiny bunker)
Apocalypse storytelling is having a bourgeois moment—call it Catastrophe Couture. From Severance's antiseptic limbo to Triangle of Sadness's dining-room dread, the frame keeps returning to wealth as both shield and trap. Billionaires' Bunker threads that needle by locking privilege in with its own ghosts. No scavengers at the gates. No zombies. Just legacy trauma and non-disclosure agreements. The horror is social—polite, then not.
One last thing: I clocked a prop I can't shake—a wall of screens reflecting panic in immaculate 4K. Surveillance as self-portrait. It's funny, a little, until it isn't. The show seems ready to live in that jitter: the laugh that curdles on the inhale. Anyway. I'm in.
