Tom Cruise has finally stopped running. Apparently shouting now counts as cardio.
He plays an oil billionaire with jowls, a Texan drawl and teeth you could tile a bathroom with. Cruise commits to every grotesque inch, and I enjoyed watching him make himself look ridiculous. Trouble is, the whole film runs at his volume.
Riz Ahmed is easily the best thing in it. Whenever he turns up, Digger briefly remembers it contains actual human beings. Emmanuel Lubezki makes the whole thing look expensive and weird: huge frames, strange spaces, ugliness lit like a perfume ad. Several shots made me sit up after the story had lost me.
Obscene wealth, corporate arrogance and billionaires who think they’re the cure for the disease they caused. Alejandro G. Iñárritu circles every point in red pen, then reaches for the highlighter. I agreed with most of what it was angry about. Two hours in, the shouting had worn me down, and I checked the runtime twice.
Iñárritu keeps digging after he’s found the film.