You may have heard already that Digger, the new film cowritten and directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu (The Revenant, Birdman) and starring Tom Cruise, is an expensive box-office bomb that got many annihilating reviews. One of the better ones sums it up perfectly: “It’s like being trapped inside a tuba for two hours.” Bad news travels fast.

And I’m going to further speed it along by providing an all-spoiler review, so consider yourself warned. This is in order to convince you that you’d be better off staying home watching Dr. Strangelove, Stanley Kubrick’s scathingly funny and incisive 1964 protest against world-ending insanity, which set the template for satirical black comedy for generations to come.

Cue the predictable guardians of art and high culture emerging to defend Digger from us lowbrow proles who can’t appreciate cinematic brilliance and originality when they see it. See bits of it in previews, that is. They’re not crazy enough to actually go see the whole gruelingly unfunny and uninvolving movie. Very few people are, besides all the embittered film critics obligated to see Digger, sitting there alone in vast dark theaters trying to come up with new adjectives to describe their own jaded disaffection.