Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s Digger is a climate-change satire with many of the ingredients audiences expect from this kind of comedy. Powerful men make stupid moves that doom the planet, and the audience watches them perform their ridiculous dance as the world burns. And while there are a few surprises, the over-the-top nature simplifies how this film not only tackles satire, but also attempts to dissect that very catharsis. You know how François Truffaut once said it’s impossible for a war film to be anti-war? I’m starting to think the same can be said for climate change satire, given how deep this film digs into the subject and manages only drops of rich absurdity.

Tom Cruise launches himself into the role of the aged, egotistical, and blowhard oil tycoon, Digger Rockwell. Strutting around his taxidermy-laced mansion, he’s entirely confident that his oil company won’t fail and that his horribly sick cat won’t die. But it doesn’t take long for his oil drilling operations to blow up. Literally. Catastrophe strikes, and all of Digger’s cohorts assemble to strategize, point fingers, and bluster all the way through a global disaster. John Goodman plays the bitterly frustrated US President Compson, angrily demanding solutions from his staff. His staff includes an uneasy Vice President, played by Michael Stuhlbarg, and a terrified scientist, Ganesh, played by Riz Ahmed. Another notable player is Sandra Hüller as Digger’s half-sister Emma, who tries and fails to establish a more eco-friendly business. Needless to say, Digger’s Earth-destroying efforts don’t look good for the association. Loud sibling arguments ensue, though not as much I’d like to see from a fuming Hüller. And let us not forget Maggie, Digger’s dying cat that clearly wants you to know it’s a puppet.

One area where this film succeeds is giving the actors enough room to chew the exaggerated scenery. Tom Cruise naturally gets his star moment as he takes his southern-accented character out for a drive as he preaches about the importance of oil to a furious populace. John Goodman matches that energy by playing up his Presidential role with the same commanding, delusional energy as Walter from The Big Lebowski, proving his old face is still animated enough to draw a few smirks. But I was surprised by how much I enjoyed Riz Ahmed’s performance of a scientist pushed to the boiling point, leading to some relatable rants and nihilistic staggering.

At the start of the film, everything is set up to follow a predictable track. That is, until the film pulls a twist that forces the story to question itself. While it’s a clever way to go beyond silly, it miscalculates in trying to steer the film toward something more cerebral. Iñárritu is clearly trying hard to tap into something more meaningful about the intersection of climate change, media, and power dynamics. But what could’ve been an attempt to shake up this predictable dose of satire becomes more spoon-fed than clever. I greatly admired Iñárritu’s Birdman for how it wasn’t afraid to present its reflective humor with ambiguity and surrealism by the final act. By comparison, Digger seems to have little regard for the audience’s ability to read its messaging. The characters are portrayed as overtly cartoonish with their bigotry, sexism, and faith-based lunacy. There’s no greater development to ponder in the mind as the assembly is laid completely bare by the final scene. The film’s few attempts to critique itself end up putting this kind of story in a smaller box, stylish as it may be with its grand production values.

The most frustrating aspect of this film is how its big-budget allure of the big-name casting and towering production design crowds out the story. As such, the script is reduced to a level of satire that can’t possibly be missed in Emmanuel Lubezki’s eye-catching cinematography. What hurts even more is that you can see the makings of a better film in the few bursts of mocking the very apparatus of how we deal with the existential threat of climate change within ourselves and our media environment. But any greater contemplation becomes drowned out in the boldness and weirdness, as there’s a higher chance audiences will be too busy gawking at Cruise’s rapid-fire Texas twang, Goodman’s painful rants about ass cancer, or the loose bowels of Digger’s dying cat.

Digger ends up becoming just as messy as the climate change situation it aims to satirize. There are a handful of amusing scenes, as one would expect from such a cast, but the approach is lackluster for such an accomplished director. I’m sure the film will draw plenty of comparisons to Doctor Strangelove for its casting and production on the surface, but those hoping for something more beneath that glossy exterior will be greatly let down. There isn’t much to excavate from this rickety premise that keeps repeating itself. As with many climate change satires that have popped up in the past few years, the threat seems so daunting that it’s nearly impossible to approach this subject without stumbling into a simplified catharsis of the blame game. But even on that front, Digger is just not funny enough or weird enough to stray from this overdone formula that does little to reinvigorate. You know a comedy is in trouble when the funniest thing it has going for it is a cat puppet.

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