Digger (2026)
The great and infuriating thing about film advertising is that it can conceal the true nature of the movie you think you will be seeing. I suppose that’s why we critics are often encouraged to avoid trailers, TV spots, and posters altogether. For better or worse, I have a feeling Alejandro G. Iñárritu was hoping for misdirection when it came to the promotion of Digger, his newest film. You may think you know what it’s about. At the very least, you may think you have an idea. You don’t. This will likely be 2026’s most divisive movie, for audiences and critics alike. Some will find it timely, audacious, and cleverly underhanded. Others will be put off by its intentionally misleading nature, and possibly be confused over what message is actually being sent. There’s no middle ground with this one.
The plot is structured in such a way that we’re intended to figure it out as it goes, so there isn’t much I can describe without issuing a spoiler warning. The safest way to go about this, I think, is to start with what Iñárritu presents at the surface level. In a similar vein to Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove, we’re shown an absurdist political satire, with global warming replacing the threat of nuclear war. Decades of oil drilling have warmed the air and oceans to the point that massive pockets of methane, once contained under permafrost and frozen seabeds, are being released. When a country-sized ice shelf breaks away from Greenland and threatens to plow into Scandinavia, all blame rests on aging, paunchy Southern oil tycoon Digger Rockwell (Tom Cruise); he has kept his business empire running, completely mindful of but never caring about its environmental impact. He only cares about his ailing cat, who’s barely clinging to life after thirty-plus years.
Obscenely wealthy, bombastic, narcissistic, and well-connected, with a mansion enshrining his repeated rape of the natural world, Rockwell seems to relish being blamed. It gives him the opportunity to formulate a responsibility-absolving narrative around the scientific facts of the climate crisis. Controlling narratives will take on greater meaning as the movie unfolds – and no, I can’t say any more than that. Pulling this off will require the cold manipulation of politicians and scientists. There are two key players, and I mean that in more ways than one. First, there’s the cancer-stricken President of the United States (John Goodman), who won’t take responsibility for the global catastrophe but will happily order the nuking of the ice shelf. And then there’s Rockwell’s head of environmental safety (Riz Ahmed), a climate scientist whose ability to control his anxiety diminishes in tandem with the state of the world.
At this point, I must remind you that Digger is designed to fool us. I must also warn you that the rest of this review will intentionally rely on vague wording, which I understand can be very annoying. I never actually said it was an absurdist political satire; I said we’re shown an absurdist political satire, just as we’re shown narrative techniques that call the film’s artistic merit into question. There’s cartoonish overacting, not just from Cruise but also from Goodman, with one scene in particular so erratic and loudly emoted that it comes off as farcical in the worst possible sense. In regards to Cruise’s dying cat, it’s as if the filmmakers weren’t even trying to simulate her realistically. She’s obviously a radio-controlled puppet, and a stiff, very jerky one at that. Why labor on something so technical if the end result wouldn’t have passed muster forty years ago, let alone now?
Rest assured, there will come a point where we can believe what we see. At first, it’s a matter of piecing together the information we get incrementally. Eventually, it will be directly explained – and that’s where you will have to decide if Iñárritu’s approach was brilliant or woefully misguided. Unlike Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), in which he intentionally blurred the line between fantasy and reality, he doesn’t leave Digger open to interpretation. He’s explicitly saying something. In part, it’s political in nature. But it’s not absurd. In fact, it’s deadly serious, and rooted in real-world issues both scientific and social. The film’s final shot makes this abundantly clear. I’m not sure I can say the same about the noises played during the end credits, which are just a little too rhythmic and unsettling to be mere natural ambience.
Protecting what remains of the environment, along with a monumental shift in humanity’s way of thinking, are important ideas audiences are encouraged to ponder. But they don’t represent the true meaning of the story. Even in the darkest of times, societies the world over have known the power of artistic expression. It can shock or entertain. It can explain the unexplainable, make sense of nonsense, give meaning to the meaningless. Just as it can repel people, it can also bring them together, if only for a few fleeting hours. Though not immediately apparent, this is something Digger celebrates. It’s a much deeper film than what has been promised, and I know not everyone will appreciate that. For those who are willing, I can only advise you to just go with it, to trust Iñárritu’s instincts as a filmmaker.
