The “Digger” Complex: Satirical Deconstruction Through Nihilistic Cynicism and Movie Stars [Spoilers]

A Discourse for the Ages

Now that Digger is out into the world, it has unleashed a bevy of online discourse. Everything from masterpiece to worst of the decade, to box office bomb to a predicted 10 year revisionist reclamation – everyone has something to say about Digger. And no two opinions seem to match, the hives on each side of the line drawn in the sand growing in equal measure. But unlike more recent sparks of internet fury like Primetime, Digger feels different. Not because we have any less to say about it, but because unlike its controversial counterparts, Digger has very little to say for itself.

Iñárritu and co. have devised a film purposefully devise but almost completely absolved of its wake. Rather than intelligently leaving us with decades of interpretative takes from its own interior ambiguity (think Mulholland Drive), Digger retreats to its artifice with such impenetrable fervor it becomes impossible decipher despite having one, singular statement shouted at us over and over and over again. It’s not actually that deep, but that’s also kind of the design and ultimate allure of Digger. It is exactly what Peter Griffin means when he’s says The Godfather “insists upon itself,” and with a smug wink and a pretentious superiority, Iñárritu looks down on everyone else from his ivory tower of disdain for – well, everything.

Comps and infinite Cynicism

The comps of Asteroid City, Dr. Strangelove, and Don’t Look Up (a movie I like quite a bit and don’t entirely understand the hate for) are all fair and valid, but there’s something else to Digger, something more nihilistic and abrasively cynical that sets the film apart from its inspirations. It is by no means better than most of them, but again, it leaves viewers puzzled and frustrated by design. As if Iñárritu doesn’t want us to look into the mirror as a means of reflection in hopes of correction. He wants us to look into the mirror, shatter it, and then admit that we will never be better than we are right now. That humanity – no matter how hopeful they may be of a brighter future – is incapable of doing so and undeserving of it entirely.

Now to be fair, I’m all for the brutal nihilism of irresponsible billionaires destroying everything without consequence. The deconstruction of satire through a purposefully stilted satire of its own and a cynicism of art as a voice of change is right smack in the middle of my cinematic wheelhouse. Which is why I can’t bring myself to hate Digger, at least not entirely. I have always been one to admire ambition and at the very least respect massive swings even if they miss more than they hit. And this is a prime example of what I’ve been championing for more of in cinema. But if all you have to say is that billionaires are bad and we deserve everything that happens to us because of our own enabling, then I’m not sure there’s enough meat on the bones to warrant such desperation grasping at profundity.

I Didn’t Say It, I Declared It

We know this. We all know this, and whether we admit to ourselves or not it is the world we live in and are most likely stuck with for the foreseeable future. So Digger exists in this strange ether of messaging and purpose; we hear you and agree but also, do you not have anything else to say about it? Screaming “THE END IS NEIGH!” at an audience for 2+ hours even if there’s some truth to the statement isn’t the most enjoyable movie going experience. On top of that, it insists on talking down to its audience. As if Digger doesn’t believe that audiences agree or get it so it chooses to assault us with it with big, bold monologues and repetitive plot devices. This nullifies the effectiveness of its reveals and again, allows Innauritu to turtle up and fortify himself behind his devices.

Digger is insularly, and disappointing when you finally blow a hole in the impenetrable Helms Deep to find that there’s no actual treasure buried. It’s so proud of its deconstructive nature, it’s metatextual language of movie stardom, Oscar bait, cinema as a solution to the world’s problems and more that it often forgets itself. It becomes so enamored with Fossil Fools – the play that is being put on that we are actually watching – that it forgets to let us in. It’s reveal that they are making a play that is purposefully bad and goofy and over the top is fine, but its when that reveal is given to the audience and film’s overall inability to bring itself out of it in any meaningful way that holds it back.

That’s Not How the Force Works

That, and the fact that for a satire it is painfully unfunny. But we’ll come back to that point in a bit. Digger is so laser focused on the premise itself that it accidently reveals it too early. At least, too in full. It never gives us the opportunity to figure it out on our own or guide us through with subtle notions that something else is afoot beneath what we are seeing. The challenge is that when it is revealed, it also reveals that it’s all the film has in its pocket. Once Digger is revealed to be a bad play about real life events that destroyed the world, the next hour and half is just watching that same moment on repeat. It would be like your favorite stand up comic having a 90 special and within the first 30 minutes of their set they hit you with their punchline for their closer. But then, instead of delivering a disorganized set list, they repeat that punchline for the next hour.

That’s just not how stand up works, but it’s also not how the conceit of a play within a satire should work, either. It’s a bold swing that only works if you swing at a pitch. And it for a second, it DOES work. Digger’s reveal is fascinating even if its grating, and for all its inaccessibility it agrees with you, the audience, that Fossil Fools isn’t a good play. But when it is a majority of your movie, it makes you wonder if Iñárritu thinks that movie isn’t good, either. There’s a part of this that makes you question whether anyone even likes Digger as a film.

How Am I Funny?

The lack of funny that works also adds to this line of questioning. For a satire deconstructing satire, it really struggles to funny. Very little lands most of the time. I’d argue only Riz Ahmed understood the satire assignment, performing the balancing act of farsical self seriousness with an over the top intentionally bad performance style. For Cruise, he’s all in the metanarrative of his own movie star persona. He’s overcommitted to the role and the ideas behind them, probably more than anyone else including Iñárritu himself. How do you mock something you’re simultaneously taking too seriously? Cruise is gunning for an Oscar while embodying a satirical mockery of everyone who takes on Oscar bait roles.

In this sense, Digger tries to speak out of both sides of its mouth. No definitive statement outside of Billionaires are Bad and Art Isn’t a Savior. Whether this is good or bad I’m not really sure. After all of this stream of conscience, desperately trying to make sense of things, I’ve come to conclusion that we simply won’t be able to in our lifetimes. That Iñárritu’s retreat into his fortress of pretention may turn out to be the best thing he’s ever done. We just can’t see it because we are living it. Digger tells us that those of us who are watching this now are the people that get hit by the first iceberg. The generation after us is the second catastrophe and it’s only the generation that survives who will be able to look back on our own demise with the cathartic laughter and “fuck you, please die!” rhetoric towards those who have perished but are responsible.

What Does It All Mean, Basil?

Digger doesn’t all work. And most of its criticisms and outright panning is deserved. It is Iñárritu’s own artistic arrogance unleashed on us all, his usual sense of condescending filmmaking dialed up to 11. It is exhausting and grating and honestly, kind of insulting how little he thinks of all of us. But at the same time, Digger is a fascinating experiment, one whose own refusal to comment on itself allows us to speak on its behalf. It’s not complex or subtle or layered or nuanced. And yet, I can’t wrap my arms around Digger fully. And I keep peeling back layers and discovering nuance the more it sits with me and rattles around in my brain. I never want to watch Fossil Fools. But I’d be lying if I said I’m not against seeing Digger again, even if it’s just to try to make some sense of it.

According to most AI CEOs, we’ve got about 10 years before the destruction portrayed in Fossil Fools becomes a reality. Maybe those who survive humanities inevitability demise will be able to reclaim Digger as a misunderstood masterpiece. A movie of the time we just couldn’t understand because we were living in it. Or maybe it’s as meaningless as it thinks art and billionaires are. Maybe there’s nothing to it and time will be no kinder to it than it deserves right now.

What is the truth? Who knows. But Digger doesn’t really know either. At least, it has no interest in telling us if it does. So all we can do is shape the story, hit ’em with our own bang, bang bang takes and decide for ourselves.

1500 words and that’s the conclusion. There isn’t one.