[Rating: Minor Rock Fist Down]
In Theaters Friday, October 2
There’s a reveal at the end of the first act of Digger that won’t be discussed in this review, except to say that it fails to deepen the narrative in any meaningful way, and actually proves how shallow a movie it is. The story of an aging oil man whose hubris and greed lead to a catastrophic global calamity, the movie by co-writer/director Alejandro G. Iñárritu feels about three decades too late in its arrival and a lifetime away from relevancy. Tom Cruise and a game supporting cast do their best to lift the effort up and out of the tired/expired messaging pond where it languishes, yet there’s little they can do to help.
Iñárritu opens his film on a groggy “Digger” Rockwell (Cruise) waking up next to his beloved 30-year-old cat, Maggie, which he treats with more care and urgency than a call from his Greenland oil platform team. That team explains that a crack has opened up on the ice shelf where they are drilling, and it has widened into a chasm that threatens to send a massive ice flow into Europe’s northern coast. U.S. President Compson (John Goodman) summons Rockwell to explain the problem and present a solution, and while the oil man has plenty to offer on the former, he’s got little on the latter.
Rockwell is often flanked by his lead environmental scientist, Ganesh (Riz Ahmed), who is quick to soliloquize about how all of these apocalyptic developments are the consequence of humanity’s fossil fuel hubris: to the astonishment of no one (audience included). As Digger proceeds into its second and third acts, revealing its party trick and second narrative level, the ponderous meditation on the folly of greed and unchecked capitalism smother the audience like so many iceberg tsunamis. Iñárritu and the script try and sell this messaging as dynamic truth telling to power with a meta flourish, yet there’s little to dissect here that hasn’t already been examined elsewhere (and without all the smug posturing on display, here).
The central thesis of Digger is rooted in a collective admission of guilt about the state of the environment, and humanity’s willingness to leverage long-term needs against short-term amenities. It doesn’t spoil anything to say that the crescendo of the narrative is a version of the “greed is good” monologue reworked for the climate change era. And while Iñárritu and Digger do demonstrate the fallibility of this ethos, it will likely elicit little more than a shrug from 2026 audiences who are experiencing this tragic, deliberate, not at all secret catastrophe on the regular.
The other pillar of the narrative concerns itself with society’s need of a focal point for its anger and blame, and how Rockwell becomes the sort of sin-eater of humanity. It’s perhaps the most challenging aspect of the film, and veers into a discussion about certain elements of the plot that would lead to spoilers. This element is part of the larger gimmick of Digger, and while it doesn’t help the movie come together in a satisfying way, what it is going for with this particular aspect is at least somewhat creative and interesting.
Even so, it is an uphill battle for most of the 129-minute runtime, because the overall viewing experience of Digger is just not a pleasant one. The oppressive sound design featuring constant drips, clock ticks, and creaks serve a narrative purpose, sure, but they also create a deliberate sense of unease and discomfort that make for a terrible time. The exaggerated costume and makeup work also give the whole effort an off-putting flavor that Iñárritu runs towards with open arms, pairing it with enough tight close-ups and Dutch angles to make a person dizzy with dread.
It all reeks of a production that is so sure of itself, so convinced of its clever construction and messaging, that it never took a beat to consider if any of its bits were landing. There’s a scene where the main characters joke about women being excluded from the circles of power, but Digger also frames every female character as a nagging shrew causing problems for the male leads. Even worse, the movie lampoons climate indifference while making an unapologetic environmental rapist the center of attention, then just sort of throws the whole unpleasant mess in the lap of the audience like it’s some kind of moral hot potato.
Cruise does well in a role that’s actually asking him to act again and not just hold his breath or hang onto the sides of things way up off the ground. He enjoys a level of nuance and character duality that Goodman and the rest of the cast don’t enjoy for reasons that can’t really be explained without giving too much away. It should suffice to say that it’s nice to see Cruise put in real, dramatic work once again, though seeing him in yet another role positioning him as the most important person to ever live is as exhausting as ever.
Although Digger wants to be Dr. Strangelove with its attempts at biting social satire and apocalyptic foreshadowing, it has much more in common with 2021’s Don’t Look Up: another movie that felt compelled to explain reality to its audience. Cruise does decent work in the eponymous role, yet even his return to real acting can’t save a stale story and fumbled conceit from the rising tide of its arrogance any more than Rockwell can save those around him: shovel or no.
“Obvious Child” is the debut novel of Warren Cantrell, a film and music critic based out of Seattle, Washington. Mr. Cantrell has covered the Sundance and Seattle International Film Festivals, and provides regular dispatches for Scene-Stealers and The Playlist. Warren holds a B.A. and M.A. in History, and his hobbies include bourbon drinking, novel writing, and full-contact kickboxing.
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