Digger is not Dr. Strangelove, though it will inevitably draw comparisons to Stanley Kubrick's Cold War farce from nearly 70 years ago. Like Strangelove, it is big, broad, silly, and desperately bleak.
Yet unlike Kubrick, director Alejandro González Iñárritu is a sentimentalist at heart. Even in its bleakest moments, Digger believes in the healing power of art to preserve us when everything else fails. Whether that works depends entirely on your worldview. In the past week, I've gone either way, depending on the news cycle.
Digger stars Tom Cruise, who hasn't been this good since Magnolia. In fact, it wouldn't be outrageous to say this is the best performance of his long, illustrious career. He is an underrated actor to begin with, as comfortable with bleak drama as he is with big action, though few will acknowledge his incredible range for what it is.
Here, Cruise is as vulnerable as ever, completely devoid of egotism, though he plays a character built from nothing but. Digger is possibly the most malevolent villain of Cruise's career; a childlike ID let loose with unlimited funds and zero oversight. He is every oil baron, oligarch, and aging tech bro rolled into one.
One day, his illegal oil site in the Antarctic triggers the final act of the inevitable climate catastrophe. Even as his head scientist, Ganesh (Riz Ahmed), tells Digger the cold, hard facts, his innate nature is to shift blame and put on a show.
Cruise, unrecognizable beneath heavy makeup and a perversion of a folksy drawl, channels his star power into a breathless performance. It is easy to hate Digger, and even easier to hate how easily recognizable his worst tendencies are. He is bigger than life, but only just, as we've come so untethered as a society that even the broadest satire isn't broad enough.
Even as the film leaps into the unexpected (and it's best to know as little as possible going in), Cruise remains a constant. He could retire tomorrow, and Digger would remain a perfect encapsulation of a fearless, uncontested career of the last global superstar. This is the kind of performance superlatives are made for.
It's only understandable that the rest of the film can't measure up. Make no mistake: it does try, and it gets quite close. It feels like a cliché to say this is the "Dr. Strangelove of our time" when so many other films have already drawn that comparison. But in terms of structure, style, and poignancy, few can compare with Iñárritu's angry polemic. After all, even Kubrick's masterpiece falls apart at the end.
The third act is where things come undone, and Iñárritu's magnificently broad slapstick unbuckles as it tries to make one final point. I admire that it even tries. After all, what is left to say? Whoever runs this world has already chosen to let it all burn, and we're left decorating the deck chairs on the Titanic. Any coda feels too small, and every pointed finger a hypocrisy. When the marketing campaign for Digger uses generative AI for a cheap laugh, it is difficult to accept its holier-than-thou attitude even as a gag.
But the road to disappointment can still entertain, and that's precisely what Digger does. It is a sumptuous feast for the senses, brilliantly performed, and often very, very funny. John Goodman delivers a monologue about a tumor so hysterically in poor taste that it had me wheezing with laughter. Digger's cat looks and behaves like Mitch McConnell. Riz Ahmed is the heart of the film as the put-upon scientist standing in for us all.
Then, just as it could go out on a high note, Digger switches gears and refuses the easy way out. I admire it so much for its willingness to make a fool of itself. The choice doesn't quite work, and I can see why some will loathe the result. But I love big swings, even those that don't connect.
Digger will face a judgmental choir of those who feel it is the work of disconnected elites making fun of a dire future. I think it's a surprisingly earnest attempt at laughter to avoid the tears. Either way, it is a fascinating coping mechanism.
