Digger (United States, 2026)

Spoiler Alert! Starting with the second paragraph, there are spoilers, so proceed with caution.

Ambition is a great quality for a filmmaker, and Alejandro G. Iñárritu has always possessed it in abundance. With Digger, his vision is singular and was sufficiently compelling to coax Tom Cruise out of his comfortable leading man persona and into unflattering old-age makeup (not that this is the first time Cruise has done something like that). However, a movie needs something more than an intriguing set-up and an artistic pedigree, and that is unfortunately where Digger stumbles. The film has an ax to grind and a message to propagate, but it is buried under material that is often inert and sometimes downright boring. Getting through the entirety of Digger is a chore, and the final revelation isn't really worth the effort required to reach it.

The film is constructed as a play-within-a-film. This isn't exactly a new conceit, but Iñárritu doesn't come right out and let viewers know what's going on. It's less straightforward than Birdman in that way. Early in the proceedings, we aren't entirely aware that what we're watching is a dress rehearsal for a play, despite some obvious fakery (such as an animatronic cat and clouds elevated using poles). Digger progresses by switching back and forth between the stage production and the "reality" around it, and the balance—or lack thereof—is part of the problem.

Tom Cruise stars as actor Curtis Markson, who in turn is playing multi-billionaire oilman Digger Rockwell on stage. Digger is a self-absorbed narcissist in the twilight of his life. Unmarried and childless, he is surrounded by sycophants, and the only creature he truly cares about is his dying thirty-year-old cat. When Digger is alerted to a major environmental disaster related to one of his oil expeditions, he reacts with nonchalance. By the time a mammoth iceberg has broken loose and is on its way to Europe, he is tasked by the ailing President Compson (John Goodman) to help find a solution. There is, of course, none to be found, and then another iceberg is discovered—this one headed for Alaska.

Between acts, Curtis is consumed by a personal crisis involving his missing daughter. Distracted and frantic, he cannot locate her. Her proximity to a "Category 6" hurricane bearing down on Jamaica complicates matters, leaving him to fear that her flight out of the country may have crashed. Curtis is also irritated by the liberties the play, titled Fossil Fools, takes with factual events, leading him to clash with the director, Hannah (Sophie Wilde).

With Fossil Fools, Iñárritu appears to be attempting to satirize a satire. The play is meant to be a comedy (although not a funny one) that skewers big business's prioritization of profits over people and the consumer-driven obsession with oil that allows corporations to get away with such tactics. The stage production is intentionally broad and bad, replete with overacting and ripe dialogue. Iñárritu adopts a theme similar to Mel Brooks in The Producers, embracing the tendency of audiences to occasionally celebrate wretched material. One can read Digger as a commentary on entertainment choices wrapped around "second-level" environmental messaging. The problem is that Fossil Fools is neither engaging nor entertaining. It is a slog, yet rather than just showing clips or excerpts, Iñárritu forces us to watch the whole damn thing, which absorbs about ninety minutes of the film's 128-minute running time.

During the breaks between acts, we spend some time with Curtis only to discover that there isn't a lot there. He isn't terribly interesting, and Iñárritu neglects to provide him with much of a backstory. One of the producers, Kenny Rockwell (Jesse Plemons), is a big fan. As for Curtis himself, he has a wife and a missing daughter... and that's about it.

For Cruise, this is an opportunity to play against type and do some serious(ish) acting. He's working somewhere between Magnolia and Tropic Thunder. While he is mostly unrecognizable, the truth is that there's nothing in this performance likely to cause a swell of critical praise. The supporting cast—which includes John Goodman as an unhinged U.S. President, Michael Stuhlbarg as his V.P., Riz Ahmed as one of Digger's flunkies, and Sandra Hüller as Digger's sister—is full of capable actors. However, only Ahmed and Goodman are asked to do much, and that "much" mainly consists of chewing on scenery.

The Dr. Strangelove inspiration is hard to miss. It's more of a vibe than anything specific, but I can't imagine anyone who has seen the Kubrick classic making it through Digger without drawing a connection. Furthermore, intentional or not, there seems to be a little of Charlie Kaufman's Synecdoche, New York in the proceedings as well—which, at least in my opinion, is not a good thing.

Throughout Digger, I found myself groping for something to latch onto—a character to relate to, a narrative thread worth following, or some attempt at world-building that didn't feel half-assed. But there is really nothing here. We get an intentionally awful satire that drags on forever and the poorly realized story of the lead actor starring in it. Digger is not bad in the same way an overbudgeted, overstuffed commercial production is, but that doesn't make it any more worthwhile. Iñárritu's reliance on a structural twist is evidence that the movie cannot stand on its own narrative or thematic merits. It is best avoided, except as a soporific.

Digger (United States, 2026)