The Dig, as its title indicates, is a film revolving around an archaeological dig. But, as blunt as its title is, the film itself is far more complex, delicate, and emotional. The Dig revolves around Basil Brown (Ralph Fiennes), an experienced excavator, and Edith Pretty (Carey Mulligan), the woman who has hired him to excavate the burial mounds on her land. What follows is a meditation on grief, time, mortality, catastrophe, and history. The Dig doesn’t shy away from asking big questions: How are we connected to the past? How are we connected to the future? Where do we go when we die, and how will we be remembered once we’re gone?
Visually, The Dig is a beautiful film. Full of natural light and wide open spaces, the film felt like a balm for the claustrophobia of our current historical moment. The Dig’s cinematography and editing are also a little more active than what is typical of most period pieces. The frame often moves as if the camera were hand held, adding a dash of realism that makes sense for a film so preoccupied with history and its artifacts. This, combined with a healthy variety of camera angles and editing that draws attention to itself, made what could have otherwise been a far more boring film engaging and interesting to watch.
At its core, The Dig is about death and grief. The film uses this grief to create a continuity between the past and the present. Edith, whose property contains the burial mounds and the eponymous dig, lost her husband years ago, and herself struggles with a fatal illness. The film features multiple scenes of her visiting her late husband’s grave, talking to him and leaving him flowers. The connection between the burial mounds and the modern graves is crystalized in a scene where, when trying to find a place to store the precious artifacts recovered from the dig, Edith places them under a bed. We, the audience, see that the space already contains a different set of precious artifacts: the suitcase of Edith’s late husband. In this way, The Dig asks us to think of what artifacts we may be protecting in our own lives, equating their emotional value to the value of an important historical artifact. These ideas of artifacts and history are also explored through the relationship between Peggy Piggott (Lily James), another archaeologist on the dig, and Rory Lomax (Johnny Flynn), Edith’s cousin who is also recruited to the dig. The two fall for one another, despite the barriers that stand between them and despite Rory’s impending involvement in the war. Peggy keeps a Roman coin around her neck and Rory takes photos as a way “to keep what’s vital from being lost”. Like Edith, both have artifacts. Eventually, the two decide to live in the present, loving one another despite what the future or past may hold.
But The Dig is not just about the past. The inevitability of death and catastrophe is balanced by a sense of forward motion, encapsulated in Edith’s son, Robert Pretty (Archie Barnes). He is obsessed with science fiction stories, always building rockets and looking up at the stars. In a very real way, as Edith’s son, he is symbolic of the future. He, too, must learn to grapple with grief and loss. He learns to understand them, in the end, in his own way.
However, the cost of The Dig’s rich themes and calm story is a lack of momentum and focus. The film’s story is slow and meandering. Its slowness is a strength at times, but it often just serves to make its lack of direction more obvious. The film’s lack of clear stakes leaves it feeling somewhat disorganized and without any clear goal or end in sight. The Dig also has a number of thematic blind spots, including its discussion of ownership and credit when it comes to historical discoveries. The film can’t seem to decide how it feels about these issues. Their lack of resolution creates an often confusing tension throughout the film. The Dig also conveniently sidesteps conversations about who and what we decide is worth preserving.
Additionally, the romantic subplot and the relationship between Peggy and her husband, Stuart Piggott (Ben Chaplin), feel somewhat out of place in the film. This is the point where The Dig bites off more than it can chew, or at least more than it can adequately explore in its almost 2 hour run time. While the subplot’s resolution is touching, it doesn’t exactly tie into the rest of the film. Similar to the film’s discussion of ownership, it leaves the viewer wondering how exactly they’re supposed to feel.
The Dig is about grief; past, present, and future. Like the archaeological dig itself, it is slow and methodical. Its focus is on the lives and emotions of its characters, and its plot seems to take a back seat. It poses big questions, about death and time and inevitability and the interactions between the three. It doesn’t answer all of them, but it does answer some. So where do we go when we die? It’s simple, according to The Dig. We don’t go anywhere. We live on in what we leave behind. As Basil says, “from the first human handprint on a cave wall, we’re part of something continuous. So we don’t really die.”
The Dig is not a film that everyone will enjoy, but if you, like me, are the kind of person who often cries about prehistoric cave art, you will enjoy it immensely.
4/5 STARS