Tom Cruise Hits Rock Bottom at the Box Office with the Underappreciated Digger
DIRECTED BY ALEJANDRO G. IÑÁRRITU/2026
If you knew the world was on the verge of environmental collapse and you had the power to save it, what would you do? That is the seemingly obvious question initially presented in both the film and trailer to an ad nauseum. Perhaps it is the repetitive nature of the promotional material, or the seemingly glaringly blatant purpose of the film itself. Regardless of the reason, Digger is now the latest victim of a relentless onslaught of less than favorable reviews and brutal box office numbers. Even the combined star-quality of Tom Cruise Oscar winning director Alejandro G. Iñárritu cannot seem to dispel the dark cloud that has settled over this project. To be fair, this film is practically impossible to dissect properly without delving deep into spoiler territory. It is the film’s pivotal reveal that elevates the material from a middling political satire to be just shy of a bizarre masterpiece.
The titular character’s introduction is as enigmatic and weird as Digger Rockwell (Tom Cruise) himself. We watch this oil tycoon lovingly cuddle his corpse-like cat (a very well-done animatronic puppet I must say) in bed as he dodges calls from various associates with no pretense of a valid excuse. With an exaggerated Texan drawl and an even more exuberant personality, Rockwell is more cartoonish than flesh-and-blood man. His seemingly unflappable attitude devolves into a gradual sense of impending panic as outside influences seep in. A standard call with one of his employees is the harrowing moment that sets to stage for the impending cataclysmic events at hand. His oil-drilling operation in Alaska has managed to crack a glacier, which is an issue Digger initially tries to laugh off as scientific mumbo-jumbo and threatens his underling into keeping under wraps. The situation becomes frighteningly real when Dr. Ganesh (Riz Ahmed) reveals that an explosion at the site has caused a section of the glacier to separate and go barreling straight for Europe’s coastline. Unable to turn away the disaster lurking at their doorstep, Digger hosts an emergency meeting with President Compson (John Goodman) and his trusted cabinet to discuss their options. As these pathetic men uselessly shout and flex their non-existent muscles, their oblivious allies across the pond await the fallout to ultimately decide their fate.
Nothing is subtle in Digger, least of all the characters themselves. There is a joyous element in witnessing Cruise in a role that does not require him to crawl across planes mid-flight over a mountain range or even fly one. Do not be mistaken, this is perhaps his most over-the-top role since the brief stint that was Les Grossman – prosthetics and all included. Digger is grandiose in every way, which makes the entire outlandish performance slightly addictive to watch. This is perfectly shown in a moment when Cruise delivers a rousing ten-minute monologue with that outrageous Southern accent and a plethora of lewd gestures while clambering about the room with frantic energy. If nothing else positive is to be taken away by some audiences, it will be difficult to dismiss the substantial work that Cruise is putting in here. There are perhaps unintended (or cleverly planned) intricate layers to the intention behind Cruise’s casting. A good percentage of viewers will grasp the irony of selecting one of Hollywood’s titans that has a reputation for falling shy of achieving the pinnacle of awards recognition throughout his considerable career. Regardless of intent, it adds depth to the material. Perhaps there is a chance that Iñárritu can do for him what he once did for Leonardo DiCaprio back in 2016. The stage belongs to Cruise, but a talented cast provides substantial support. As the high-strung Dr. Ganesh, Ahmed is an interesting foil to the boisterous oil tycoon. Even his rigid moral compass crumbles into near crazed ramblings as Ganesh dragged deeper into a world violently unlike his own. Goodman brings the bizarre as President Goodman, effortlessly matching – and occasionally surpassing – Cruise in sheer volume and lunacy. Michael Stuhlbarg, Sandra Huller, and Emma D’Arcy round it all out with solid performances.
If it was not evident in the loud performances, Iñárritu is not even attempting to be indirect with his craft. You will find little delicate subtext here – and that may be exactly what works in Digger’s favor. The relevance of the material is incontestable as evidence of climate crisis progresses at an accelerated rate around the globe. There was once a time when a cataclysmic natural disaster like this would strain the limits of incredulity. In the modern age, this is practically prophetic. Watching these grown men wield their power with the same delicate touch as a toddler learning how to color with crayons teeters between humorous and irritating to downright bone-chilling. Satirical work is not known for being delicate to its subjects, but Iñárritu takes a notably aggressive approach to the material. Few are spared in his vision, least of all those who wield the influence and knowledge to engage in preventative action. Admittedly, this approach borders on righteously egocentric, and the absence of tact occasionally buries the lead nearly too deep to recover. Fortunately, Digger survives its director’s overbearing presence.
SPOILERS FOLLOW…
Nearly a third of the way through the runtime, Iñárritu weaves in an entirely different narrative. After a lengthy back-and-forth between Cruise and Goodman, a buzzer sounds and a booming voice calls “cut”. The exaggerated accents fade away, and the true vision behind Digger comes into focus. The cast is pulling double-duty as a motley theatre troupe rehearsing before their big opening night. The play being produced is known as “Fossil Fools”, which is a satirical piece based on the historical events that led to the present environmental dystopia. Cruise is actually Curtis Markson, a seasoned actor juggling his own family drama as the impending performance looms closer. As Iñárritu travels through the veil between the fictional play and reality, more details gradually emerge about this futuristic society. By the third act, the curtain drops.
As the play approaches its climax, the tense emotions boil over. Markson struggles to understand the underlying motive behind Rockwell’s madness while his director (Sophie Wilde) argues that their intent is to humiliate these horrendous men from beyond the grave. Their clashing ideologies over the material escalates into an on-stage screaming match. This is the precise moment Iñárritu drives the nail into the coffin – or blows up the glacier so to speak. Their debate is cut short by a hovering investor, who reveals himself to actually be Digger’s nephew Kenny Rockwell (Jesse Plemons). His presence is minor, but Plemons commands the screen instantly as Kenny recounts his first experience witnessing “Fossil Fuels”. He admits that both parties are correct in their comprehension of the text and that all things can be true at once – these were cold calculating men who also happened to be reckless fools playing carelessly with their political power. Both are correct, and then Kenny asks the resounding question, “Now what?”. These catastrophic events have come and passed, and these men have reckoned with their respective makers. What remains are the bones of a world left scarred by their actions – or rather inaction. When the stage play concludes with Digger’s suicide, the entire audience erupts in thunderous applause and rousing cheers. This is catharsis on a grand public scale. Art is not a savior or a miracle solution, but a vessel through human connection blossoms. For a brief instant in time, a solid sense of community conquers the hopelessness.
END OF SPOILERS
For a film that markets itself as an absurd black comedy, Digger ends on a drearily realistic note. It is no shock that this will not be easily digestible by the general populace. What might have initially felt like a top-tier example in creating Oscar-bait is an actual well-rounded picture that lands key culturally relevant chords. Iñárritu strikes them each with a heavy hand and leaves little wiggle room for dramatic interpretation. Not only is the message abundantly clear but it’s loud. These farcical powerful men are puppets for a more compelling discussion on performance and perception versus authenticity and reality. How much do we as a society let pass under the guise of carefully crafted media and foolish public personas until the danger is already on our shores? Iñárritu sacrifices delicate artistry to sound a warning cry on global passivity. Perhaps this is where the widespread discontent stems from – it is always difficult to stare your own failures in the eye when they are so glaringly apparent. The curtain falls, the lights turn on, and this brilliantly structured metatextual satire concludes with the same resounding question: now what?