Tom Cruise’s Digger is a disaster – I couldn’t wait for it to be over

I don’t mind admitting that Digger was one of my most anticipated films of the year. 

From the moment I watched the wonderfully weird trailer, featuring Tom Cruise prancing around in an old man mask with a half-dead cat puppet, I was all in. 

It was with a certain glee, then, that I swaggered through the West End last night to watch the film, certain I was in for a treat. 

So did I dig it? In a word, no. 

In other words, I thought it was a borderline disaster that mightn’t wipe out Northern Europe but will certainly scupper any chances Cruise may have had of taking home an Oscar. 

Directed by Alejandro G. Iñárritu of The Revenant and Birdman fame, the film follows Digger Rockwell (Cruise), a wealthy cat-obsessed oil baron whose greed inadvertently causes the collapse of the Arctic ice shelf.

As the colossal glacier approaches the European mainland, threatening a cataclysmic flood, the terrified tycoon attempts to first fix his mistake before eventually framing himself as the world’s saviour.

Oh, and along the way he has to deal with the only man who dares speak the truth to Digger, the scientist, Ganesh (Riz Ahmed) and the President of the US (John Goodman) is about to die from ‘cancer of the asshole’.

Sounds exciting, right? Maybe a bit amusing?

Well, that’s only half the story. I can’t get into specifics for fear of upsetting the spoilerphobic people reading this, but let’s just say there’s an added metatextual element to the film which introduces ideas around legacy and the ability of the wealthy to control not just their own image but the way history perceives them.

And I’m sorry, but if you read that and got a bit lost, then you’ve basically had the same experience I did while watching the film, which, if I were being charitable, I’d call ‘a bit of a slog’.

But I don’t feel like being charitable to this pretentious, pompous and smug jumble of half-baked ideas. 

Still, I could forgive the film for its sweaty attempts at sophistication if it was entertaining or the least bit funny (and god almighty does it try to be funny), but it’s not; it’s just irritating. 

Watching this film is like listening to your dad’s middle-aged mate tell you why Queen are the best band in the world. Yeah, his pre-rehearsed speech has its moments, but for the most part you’re just nodding along, hoping to God it’ll all be over soon.

Even now I’m bored trying to remember the details of its toothless and on-the-nose satire about the perils of trusting gazillionaires; that’s about as deep as a half-drunk cup of tea and just as tepid. 

And the real rock in my shoe is that the metatextual element gives Iñárritu the perfect out for making a bin bag full of rubbish, because if you point out that this is bad art, well, guess what, that was by design. 

Now it’s easy to be mean about Digger (fun too), but I didn’t hate everything about it. I think Cruise gives a really good performance, and it’s lovely to see him remember that you don’t have to put your life at risk to make a movie.

Admittedly, his performance definitely has the whiff of ‘I desperately want an Oscar,’ which I think may disqualify him (the Academy hates desperate Oscar bait; just ask Bradley Cooper), but will probably get him a nomination, and I can forgive Cruise that indulgence considering how much energy he gives the character. 

I also enjoyed the slightly arch and grotesque world that Iñárritu builds around his morally bankrupt protagonist, even if it is all artifice and no real substance. 

Still, would I recommend this film? Nah, it is Dig-meh. 

Digger digs its way into cinemas on October 2.