Inside the Set of Netflix’s Hogan’s Hostages: Camp Al-Nudge Nudge, the World’s Most Absurd Underground Studio
Byline:
Trey Sandoval, SpinTaxi Senior Entertainment Excavator
“We descend so you don’t have to.”
LOS ANGELES, CA — On the surface, it’s just another abandoned meatpacking plant off the 710 freeway. Graffiti tags. One wild goat. The faint smell of pastrami and war crime. But 60 feet beneath East L.A., through a reinforced cargo elevator and past two decoy halal food trucks, lies one of the most expensive and bizarre production builds in Netflix history:
Camp Al-Nudge Nudge, the underground, fully immersive set for the streaming giant’s geopolitical satire Hogan’s Hostages.
A Sitcom Set… Beneath the Earth?
Yes. And not just metaphorically.
Netflix reportedly spent $88 million to excavate a faux Gaza tunnel network under East Los Angeles, complete with:
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14 winding corridors
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9 trapdoors
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3 functional podcast studios
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A goat-shrine tunnel dubbed “The Bibi Annex”
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And one fully operational Al-Jazeera-themed escape room for influencers
Designed to resemble the kind of labyrinthine Hamas tunnel system you’d see in security briefings, doomsday maps, or very nervous drone footage, the Hogan’s Hostages set is part sitcom soundstage, part live-action satire cave, and part active Mossad training simulator.
“We didn’t just want realism,” said production designer Tobias Uzi-Cobblepot, who previously built Succession’s panic rooms and one failed Star Wars hotel in Dubai. “We wanted hyper-ironic, ethically questionable immersion.”
Why East L.A.?
Netflix executives had scouted Morocco, Cyprus, a Jordanian salt mine, and even a decommissioned missile silo in Nebraska before settling on East Los Angeles, citing:
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Proximity to kombucha infrastructure
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Existing tunnel culture from Fast & Furious: Tokyo Drift
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“A certain vibe,” according to Netflix VP of Prestige Chaos, Gina DuPont-Mashallah
The area under the East L.A. meatpacking district was already a favorite for “gritty location scouts” and “meth dealers who think in set design.” With a few million dollars and the blessing of the L.A. Goat Owners Cooperative, Camp Al-Nudge Nudge was born—8 stories down and dangerously close to the Echo Park water table.
The Tunnel System: Form, Function, Farce
At first glance, the tunnels seem real—too real, some have said. Constructed from a mix of reinforced concrete, papier-mâché stolen from film school dumpsters, and emotionally unstable sandbags, the space is tight, dimly lit, and echo-prone.
Each tunnel is named, ironically, after failed UN resolutions:
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“Resolution 2334 Hallway” leads to the hostage kitchen
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“Resolution 194 Canteen” is the podcast studio with goats
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“Resolution Who Even Reads These Anymore?” is the make-up room, which doubles as a mock interrogation cell with lighting by IKEA
“It’s weirdly relaxing,” said cast member Phoebe Waller-Bridge, who plays Trish Newkirk. “Feels like a dystopian spa with Wi-Fi and ethnic tension.”
The Goat Factor
No modern war-set satire is complete without a goat.
Enter Bibi, the show’s breakout four-legged star, who spends most of her scenes chewing communication cables or symbolizing existential resistance.
To accommodate her, a separate “goat tunnel” was built, complete with:
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A personal groomer
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Halal snacks
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And a padded “rage room” for post-filming decompression
“She’s union. She’s armed. She’s emotionally unavailable,” said her handler.
One tunnel was briefly shut down when Bibi allegedly triggered a sprinkler system by bleating in Morse code.
Filming Underground: The Challenges
Filming a sitcom in a subterranean maze modeled after a militant tunnel complex was never going to be easy, say producers.
1. Humidity and Hubris
The tunnels maintain a stable 84% humidity—ideal for falafel storage, terrible for lighting equipment and morale. One camera assistant fainted after confusing a Hamas blueprint for a call sheet. Another developed temporary amnesia after a goat licked his neck.
“We lost three mics to steam from the fake hummus vat,” said sound supervisor Greggory “Boom Boom” Isaacs.
2. Tunnel Fever
After three weeks, the cast began experiencing symptoms of what psychologists call “Satirical Hostage Disassociation Syndrome (SHDS).”
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Lior Raz began issuing real Mossad orders to PAs.
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Mo Amer (Commander Klink) forgot he wasn’t running an actual compound and briefly declared martial law on the catering team.
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One background actor tried to defect to the goat’s tunnel annex.
3. GPS Failure
Due to the lead-lined ceilings (and general paranoia), GPS doesn’t work inside the tunnels. Several crew members got lost for two days. One re-emerged quoting Hadith and offering herbal tea made from set moss.
“We tried installing Apple AirTags,” said set security chief Reuben “Tunnel Daddy” Klein. “But Bibi ate them.”
The Rewards: Controlled Absurdity
For all the chaos, the underground set has become a creative playground.
• Sound Acoustics
The echo-chamber effect of the tunnels created natural reverb, making the satirical podcast scenes eerily authentic.
• Cinematic Tension
Lighting designers used headlamps, drone-mounted LEDs, and flickering Soviet-era desk lamps to build a Kafka-meets-CNN aesthetic.
“We accidentally created the vibe of a hostage-themed TED Talk,” said lighting director Sandra Al-Torchman.
• Actor Immersion
Actors report that filming underground helped them access the raw vulnerability of captivity… as well as their inner stand-up comic.
“When you’re surrounded by concrete, stale chickpeas, and one angry goat, comedy happens naturally,” said Donald Glover, who plays Kinch.
Security, Paranoia, and One Actual Spy
Due to the sensitive nature of the subject matter, Netflix worked with a private security firm allegedly composed of:
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Retired intelligence officers
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Disgraced screenwriters
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And two guys from the original 24 writers’ room
Still, one production day was shut down after it was discovered that a real foreign intelligence officer (posing as a line producer) had joined the crew “for research.”
“It’s a good sign when actual spies want to work on your satire,” said showrunner Dahlia Feigenbaum. “It means you’re doing something subversively correct.”
The Cultural Impact: Banned in 9 Countries, Worshipped in 1 Commune
Even before release, Hogan’s Hostages made headlines:
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Banned in Qatar for “making the goat seem too powerful”
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Flagged in Iran as “potentially Zionist, definitely funny”
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Bootlegged in Beirut and projected on the side of a UN building during Ramadan
Meanwhile, in a Brooklyn anarchist book co-op, fans have built a replica tunnel in the basement and hold live readings of Episode 4, complete with hummus tastings and anti-colonial interpretive dance.
Season Two: Bigger, Deeper, Dumber
Netflix has confirmed that the underground set will expand for Season 2, adding:
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A UN-funded gender studies department run by Bibi the goat
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A mystical escape tunnel that leads directly to a Tel Aviv gay bar (working title: “The Ceasefire Lounge”)
There are also rumors of a musical episode, requiring an acoustic amphitheater carved directly into bedrock and scored entirely by oud, synthwave, and screaming.
Closing Thoughts: Art, Escapism, and the Comedy of Confinement
Netflix has always chased the holy trinity of modern prestige content:
Controversy, Authenticity, and the Possibility of Lawsuits.
With Hogan’s Hostages, it may have achieved all three—underground.
“We live in an age where satire has to be more believable than press conferences,” said Feigenbaum. “We didn’t just build a tunnel set. We built a metaphor you can sweat inside.”
It’s funny. It’s claustrophobic.
It’s geopolitical catharsis with a goat who has a better agent than you.
Auf Wiedersehen, soundstage.
Shalom, subterranean sitcom.
As-salamu alaykum, concrete absurdity.
Hogan’s Hostages is now streaming from 60 feet below sea level. And yes—there’s a blooper reel. It’s mostly goats.