Alejandro G. Iñárritu has never been particularly interested in making films that quietly disappear into the background, and Digger may be one of his boldest swings yet. An absurdist, visually audacious satire about power, ego, environmental catastrophe and the stories people construct around themselves, it is the type of ambitious studio filmmaking that deserves to exist. Whether audiences will actually enjoy what Iñárritu has constructed is another question entirely.
Tom Cruise stars as Digger Rockwell, one of the wealthiest men on Earth, an ageing oil tycoon whose relentless pursuit of profit has helped bring the planet to the brink of catastrophe. With climate scientist Ganesh (Riz Ahmed) desperately attempting to warn him of the consequences of his actions, Digger instead remains convinced that he can control the increasingly uncontrollable situation.
To say much more about Digger‘s narrative would undermine one of Iñárritu’s biggest gambits. Roughly 25 minutes into the film, he makes a choice that completely reframes what we have been watching. It is audacious, unexpected and initially rather thrilling. It also creates the movie’s greatest problem: once Iñárritu asks us to reconsider our investment in the story, it becomes increasingly difficult to become emotionally involved in certain aspects of what follows.
The less audiences know going in, the better, but Digger continues folding in on itself as Iñárritu builds an increasingly elaborate tapestry around its characters. It is fascinating on an intellectual level, but considerably less satisfying on an emotional one. The connections eventually revealed between Digger, Ahmed’s Ganesh, John Goodman‘s President Compson and the other figures populating this strange universe are clearly intended to deepen the film’s ideas about performance, power and culpability. Instead, they sometimes leave you wondering why you should care about any of these people in the first place.
That emotional distance might be intentional. These aren’t necessarily characters designed to inspire sympathy, and Cruise, Ahmed and Goodman embrace their uglier qualities with considerable gusto. But Digger becomes so preoccupied with what its characters represent that they don’t always register as people beyond the ideas Iñárritu wants them to embody.
The screenplay, credited to Iñárritu, Alexander Dinelaris, Nicolás Giacobone and Sabina Berman, can be particularly guilty of underlining those ideas. Satire this broad doesn’t necessarily require subtlety, but Digger so frequently reminds us what we are watching and seemingly instructs us how we should respond that it practically bruises its own intentions. Rather than trusting the absurdity to speak for itself, the film keeps returning to its thesis, occasionally turning provocation into explanation.
And yet, it’s difficult not to admire the sheer nerve of it all.
Iñárritu conceived the character following The Revenant, with the idea ultimately taking a decade to reach the screen, and that lengthy gestation is evident in just how densely packed the finished film is. Emmanuel Lubezki‘s cinematography and the film’s extravagant production design give Digger an imposing visual identity, whilst its constant shifts in tone and perspective ensure that even when the movie isn’t entirely working, it is rarely boring.
Then there’s Cruise.
After spending so much of the last two decades reinforcing his position as perhaps Hollywood’s most committed action star, Digger gives him the opportunity to remind audiences what an interesting character actor he can be. Buried beneath transformative prosthetics, Cruise disappears into Digger without relying on the physical transformation to do the work for him. The makeup may initially command attention, but before long it’s Cruise’s choices underneath it that prove considerably more interesting.
He’s grotesque, funny, pathetic and strangely magnetic, leaning into the theatricality Iñárritu demands without completely losing the humanity underneath. It’s the type of performance that recalls how exciting Cruise can be when a filmmaker asks him to surrender some of the movie-star control that has defined so much of his recent work.
Goodman is similarly terrific, attacking President Compson with an appropriately oversized energy whilst still finding flashes of something recognisably human underneath the caricature. Ahmed has the less immediately flamboyant role, but brings an increasingly fraught intensity to Ganesh that proves particularly effective. Sandra Hüller and Michael Stuhlbarg round out an ensemble stacked with performers seemingly delighted by the opportunity to operate within Iñárritu’s peculiar wavelength.
Whether audiences will be quite as delighted is another matter.
At a time when original studio films already face an uphill battle attracting theatrical audiences, Digger certainly doesn’t carry the air of an easy crowdpleaser. Its pivotal narrative choice alone is likely to prove a dealbreaker for some viewers, whilst its abrasive characters, political satire and deliberately unwieldy structure seem almost engineered to provoke wildly opposing reactions.
But perhaps that divisiveness is preferable to something safer. Digger takes enormous risks, and several of them simply don’t pay off. Its ideas can overwhelm its characters, its satire frequently strains from being overemphasised, and its emotional remove makes a lengthy journey feel even more demanding.
Still, ambition this unapologetic is worth acknowledging. Iñárritu has made something strange, confrontational and defiantly difficult to categorise, whilst giving Cruise his most interesting dramatic playground in years. Respecting those choices doesn’t mean you have to like all of them, and that’s ultimately where Digger lands: a film easier to admire than embrace, but one whose failures are at least the result of reaching for something genuinely daring.
TWO AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Digger is screening in Australian theatres from October 1st, 2026.
