Digger ★★

Released: 2nd October 2026

Director: Alejandro G. Iñárritu

Starring: Tom Cruise, Riz Ahmed, John Goodman, Sandra Hüller, Michael Stuhlbarg, Jesse Plemons, Robert John Burke, Emma D’Arcy & Burn Gorman

Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s Digger trades in the director’s best and worst impulses. It’s an overindulgent mess of a film brought into context when paired next to Armando Iannucci’s interview with The Guardian about the world of satire. When asked about whether the creator of The Thick of It and Veep would venture back into that world, his response was frank: “Fiction is winning out because fact is no longer making sense”. As the end credits rolled on Digger, one wished Iñárritu had heeded those words. 

At its core, Iñárritu’s latest does have merit. Think Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove, Iannucci’s In the Loop or Adam McKay’s Don’t Look Up! (a low-bar example)—films that have stepped outside, sampled the Kool-Aid, and had their fingers on the pulse of the nation. A nation of which we’re all feeling the effects—incompetent clowns for leaders with a megalomaniac complex for self-destruction, where facts mean nothing. Rules don’t apply, only their own delusional hymn sheet to justify their selfish views as we ‘Hunger Games’ our way through a climate crisis. Here, that farcical energy is channelled into Digger Rockwell (Tom Cruise), a billionaire oil tycoon who made his fortune through backroom deals and contracts with President Compson (John Goodman) in exchange for drilling in Greenland. Problem is, the tons of leaking methane gas from years of extraction suddenly ruptures and explodes, causing an ice shelf five times the size of Washington, D.C. (aptly named Judy) to break off and drift towards a world-ending tsunami.

Digger is no different from Iñárritu’s previous films, where they were driven by fear and anxiety, be it self-worth (Birdman), identity and immigration (Bardo), or, in his latest, an unstoppable calamity towards humanity’s impending doom. Writers Sabina Berman, Alexander Dinelaris, Nicolás Giacobone and Iñárritu himself throw in the kitchen sink of wacky, philosophical ideas of living life on borrowed time. In holding a mirror to society, Digger resides in the dread, in the hope that the fear from watching such craziness could shift us out of the collective apathy to reverse course. Yet, the problem with Iñárritu’s take is that the method is so blunt that it bludgeons you over the head into exhaustion.

It’s a satire that plays too close to home, because as Iannucci said, “the fiction is winning”, and there’s no secret to who and what Iñárritu is aiming at. You can’t escape the shades of Trumpism and MAGA, the religious fanatics in politics, and even a throwback nod to the shoe-throwing incident involving President Bush. Iñárritu populates his film with over-the-top caricatures who spend their time either shouting, such as Digger’s half-sister (justice for Sandra Hüller’s wasted role), or representing American bravado and imperialism, as governed by a “shoot first, ask questions later” policy by Robert John Burke’s Fitzgerald. As wildly chaotic as it presents itself to be, hiding in a Kubrick-style glow of minimalist production designs of war rooms and stately homes, it carries the feeling of a director biting off more than they can chew. The satire meanders in the dark, struggling to find a punchline worthy of more than just a slight chuckle.

As the situation worsens, the film never feels comfortable going for the jugular at those aims. Its eclectic characters fumble through scientific facts provided by Dr Ganesh (Riz Ahmed) or collectively decide which country to blame for the apocalyptic ice shelf that absolves the United States. When the real world is no laughing matter, Iñárritu doesn’t provide the remedy. Its surface-level machinations coast along at the same speed between comedy and dramatic tragedy, gradually revealing a secret plot hiding in plain sight.

It’s a wild swing moment that’s supposed to bring this into coalescence. Jesse Plemons’ Kenny delivers a speech that breaks the fourth wall on Digger’s wider purpose. Admittedly, it gives Iñárritu more ground to play in – at least it refrains from being too conventional and simple. But even with the reveal, the film finds itself digging new holes, unable to keep up with the growing, labyrinthine story it has ushered in. And the biggest casualties are its characters, lacking depth and screen time to make use of this revelation.

Speaking of characters, Cruise does what Cruise does best. He matches Iñárritu’s ‘method in the madness’ energy, and in one particular highlight, shows glimpses of Digger’s potential. In his element, the actor performs a one-man show where he speaks his “truth” on the crisis – that, as much as Digger was doing it for business, it was necessary for our own freedom. There’s a dark cynicism to this moment that implies our own complicity in the chaos, and yet Cruise embodies a person lacking any moral fibre and accountability. It’s Iñárritu’s best moment, where the camera performs long tracking shots as Cruise comfortably riffs off long reams of dialogue. But it’s also a reminder of how the leading man is more than just the “Mission: Impossible” guy (no running included). Less Les Grossman from Tropic Thunder (if you include the prosthetics), but more of an actor returning to his dramatic roots. And yet, the best performance comes from Ahmed’s Ganesh, who is the only self-aware character who captures our sanity within the insanity. At least his character cares: every facial expression or verbal comeback cuts through the gaslighting dogma he is surrounded by.

There is a worthy idea within Digger that is rare for a major Hollywood film, but its shifting tones and surprises are not good enough to save it from being the soulless misfire that it is. It leaves you feeling empty, and maybe that is the point. Sheer cynicism has replaced any signs of hope. But that act is never brave enough, bold enough, nor clever enough to stick that landing. It’s a trick lost within its own chaos, and in the end, we’re the ones left with the eggs on our faces.