Stream It Or Skip It: ‘The Dig’ on Netflix, a British Period Drama About Archaeology and Aching Hearts

I hereby declare Netflix’s The Dig to be a significant contender for The Year’s Most British Movie. It’s a WWII-period BOATS (Based On A True Story) film featuring some, if not all, of the following elements: Repressed emotions, sprawling and heavily decorated estates, scads of plaid and/or bodices and/or boys in boy shorts and long stockings and/or men working hot and dirty jobs but wearing neckties anyway, melancholy longing, a Fiennes, the pursuit of an intellectual endeavor of literary and/or historic import or Judi Dench or Helen Mirren or Maggie Smith. These are not inherently bad things, but they’re very much the very specific things that tend to comprise the genre’s intense and highly concentrated whiteness.

THE DIG: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Suffolk, 1939. Edith Pretty (Carey Mulligan) lives on many countryside acres in the many rooms of a cushy manse. She has hired humble excavator and amateur archaeologist Basil Brown (Ralph Fiennes) to unearth what appear to be ancient or semi-ancient burial mounds on her property, and hopefully he’s OK with £2 a week, living in the quarters with the driver and housekeeper, two men and their best digging gear — read: shovels and sweatervests — to help, and her son Robert (Archie Barnes) scampering about in a cape. Being a quite lovely fellow, Basil, er, I mean, Mr. Brown, is fine with all of this. She’s a well-read and curious sort, and has a good feeling about what might be under there, and they share enthusiasm for this dig.

Mrs. Pretty is a widow and Mr. Brown, a couple decades or so her elder, gets letters from his wife every day but doesn’t feel compelled to read them. Will their lips touch? Yes! But only after the dig collapses on Mr. Brown, and he needs to be dug out and resuscitated. “Did you see something? While you were gone?” she asks him after he’s revived, thus establishing their intense, but thoroughly platonic intimacy. Mr. Brown soon finds what will come to be known as Sutton Hoo, a quite literal treasure trove of Anglo-Saxon gold in a boat that was hauled over land and used as a grave. It’s perhaps the most extraordinary archaeological dig in all of Great Britain, so once word gets out that an unlearn-ed commoner like Mr. Brown is in charge, a scholarly snob named Charles Phillips (Ken Stott) arrives to wrest control of the project IN THE NAME OF ENGLAND AND ALL ITS HAUGHTY SELF-IMPORTANCE. Of course, Mr. Brown is in fact fully capable, but doesn’t have a degree, and it takes some convincing of both sides for him to stay and collaborate. Mrs. Pretty promises Mr. Brown that he’ll receive credit for the discovery, and Mr. Brown no doubt relishes telling Mr. Phillips that he’s too heavy to walk through such delicate digging grounds.

Others pop in to assist, including Stuart Piggott (Ben Chaplin) and his lovely wife Peggy Piggott (Lily James), who share a marriage of great sexual frustration that may just be remedied by the arrival of Mrs. Pretty’s cousin Rory Lomax (Johnny Flynn). As we ramp up to a montage of delicate brushing with little brushes and gentle chiseling with little chisels, Mrs. Pretty’s chronic heartburn becomes much more than that, and Mr. Brown and young Robert take a shine to each other. Also ramping up is WWII — the sound of delicate brushing and gentle chiseling is sometimes interrupted by the roar of war planes overhead — and Mr. Lomax’s deployment in the Royal Air Force. Mr. Piggott looks into another man’s eyes, Mrs. Piggott and Mr. Lomax look into each other’s souls, Mr. Brown looks deep into England’s past and Mrs. Pretty sadly, so so sadly, looks into the abyss.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Fiennes’ involvement invokes some heavy The English Patient vibes here (note: I hated that movie, but I liked this one). It also has shades of Atonement, The Imitation Game, Darkest Hour, The King’s Speech… all perfectly decent company to be in, although The Dig is the quietest of the bunch.

Performance Worth Watching: Mulligan and Fiennes have strong period-movie game — as ever! — but don’t overlook Downton Abbey vet James, who makes an arguably superfluous character seem, if not essential, then a welcome shot of youth and additional warmth. She shows up halfway through the movie and gives us another achy soul to care about, so we don’t burn out on Mulligan’s melancholy and Fiennes’ doggedness.

Memorable Dialogue: Let’s start with the contemplative quote:

Mr. Lomax: If a thousand years were to pass in an instant, what would be left of us?

And now, the comic exchange:

Mr. Piggott, digging excitedly: Sort of… rusted lumps!

Mr. Phillips: Come on man, where’s your training?

Mr. Piggott: An amorphous mass of corroded objects, sir!

Sex and Skin: Only the most genteel and tasteful of Great British schtups. Also, Lily James lounging in a bathtub.

Our Take: The Dig is rich with the drama inherent in finding very old things in the dirt while some characters — and all of us, really — die slowly, some more slowly than others. Which is to say, if you’re not on the leisurely wavelength of this type of Very British Melodrama, with its understated bits of comedy and romance, leisurely approach to character development and pacing, lush costuming and art direction, gorgeous photography and depiction of very white people doing very white things, its rewards will be miserly.

Those of us who are psyched for 112 minutes of stately melodrama, however, will be pleased; it’s quite frequently a lovely film. Director Simon Stone and screenwriter Moira Buffini, adapting John Preston’s novel inspired by real people and events, strongly compel us to feel invested in the characters and situations scattered neatly among its handful of subplots, all of which convene under a finely considered umbrella idea: our temporary place in this time in this world, rendered all the more fragile by the stupid inevitability of war. It’s a film about who we were, are and will be; about the beauty of art and passion; about identity and function as individuals and a culture. It may also be about the great mystery of wool, and why British people insisted upon wearing it out in the blazing hot sun.

Sure, The Dig fulfills expectations of classical Oscar-bait formula, mostly for better, gilded as it is with intellectual ambitions and strong performances, showy landscapes and sweeping strings, metaphor and symbolism, joy and weeping, strength and frailty, summer wools and winter wools, itchy wools and scratchy wools. But at least it’s not a chilly watch.

Our Call: The Dig is comfort food for tea-time fetishists (and then some). STREAM IT.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.

Stream The Dig on Netflix