Whether it is the ultra rich, insular and wealthy families, or the cultish tendencies of the catholic church, one thing that Rian Johnson’s Knives Out series lends itself to is challenging corrupting power. Wake Up Dead Man is the latest addition to the roster, taking place at a church that is rapidly dying out under the populist influence of Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin). When Father Jud Duplenticy (Josh O’Connor) arrives he has a hard time breaking through the hold that the Monsignor has over his small but fearfully loyal flock. That is, until Monsignor Wicks dies in a way that appears impossible. Enter our Knives Out detective, Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig). For him, no crime is unsolvable and he openly gets a kick out of triumphing over the perpetrator. It’s undeniable that Benoit Blanc is perhaps one of the most interesting, original detective characters that has been introduced to pop culture in many years and this is helped in part by Johnson’s skill in filmmaking and airtight storytelling. Be warned that this review will contain discussion that will spoil the outcome of this film.
One thing that makes all of the Knives Out films very appealing is their messaging on power. Each of the primary characters involved in the crimes that Blanc helps to solve are working class individuals who have been wronged in some way by a systemic abuse of power. This is power won by riches or influence that has corrupted the hearts of certain characters in our stories. Now, Johnson does not leave this entirely black and white. Despite the popular phrase, absolute power does not always have to corrupt absolutely. We have many examples of characters who have access to vast wealth and influence yet choose connection, dignity, and morality over it.
In Wake Up Dead Man the system of power is one that is all too familiar, the abrasive hand of the Catholic Church. From the beginning, Father Jud is a down to Earth character, one that we like, he inadvertently gives in to his fighting instinct with priests who are bad and speaks up for what he believes in, even if it might go against his superiors. He’s a little irreverent in language but at his heart has a genuine, selfless commitment to the fundamental message of Catholicism, to love others despite their guilt and their flaws, to even to love them in the face of their disdain for him himself. In a spectacular tonal shift we see this as Father Jud, caught up in the excitement of the case, nearly forgets his role as a priest and is brought back down by a moment of vulnerability by a woman named Louise. In just a few scenes we are shown how his character goes from subtly removing Blanc’s hat from covering a religious statue, to allowing him to smash a figure of Jesus.
Josh O’Connor plays a brilliantly human reaction all throughout this film. There is no pedestal that this priest wishes to be placed on, but he acknowledges that and he understands his faults. In his rage at himself he has it out with Blanc in a scene that perfectly encapsulates the soul of this character and his devotion, which sometimes strays, but always rights itself.
“It is a game… and by using me in it, you are setting me against my real and only purpose in life! Which is not to fight the wicked and bring them to justice but to serve them and bring them to Christ!”
Throughout this film we see him differ from traditional priesthood in his use of blasphemous language, cursing, fighting, and getting drunk in town. Even down to his name, Jud, being from the same origin as the name Judas, we are reminded of his flawed humanity and why this makes him the perfect conduit for his faith and belief. He embraces flaw but it is these same, grounding attributes that may remind us of the Bible’s favourite sinners that can also remind us of the most human traits of Jesus Christ. A man who was open and welcoming to all, broke bread with the sick, the downtrodden, the socially excluded, and who, despite it all, was a carpenter. In his final reclamation of the Church as a sanctuary for others, Jud builds with wood a new cross with the figure of Jesus to go above the altar.
All of this is a sharp contrast to the oppressive charisma of Monsignor Jefferson Wicks. Johnson is a masterclass in using light to emphasise the tone and atmosphere of the scene, and as a storytelling tool for character perception. If we see the light as a divine presence then Monsignor Wicks is always placing himself in this spotlight, his positioning as a superior to the flock is both purposeful and forced. His first onscreen appearance occurs in the church where Jud is blinded by the light that shines behind him as he walks in. His sermons are carried out under a strong, artificial light that casts him as the sole player and leaves the absent cross in shadow, where it looms over the narrative. Both through words and lighting we are shown how Wicks has deified himself, admitting to Jud that he longs for the power that his grandfather held. Time after time we see him under artificial lighting that is glaring and hard to look at. When Jud sees who he believes to be Wicks exiting the crypt, the bright light of the security camera shines down on the scene of him rising from the dead and when he is discovered in the basement of doctor Nat’s house, it is a sickly green that shines in the window over the tub.
In contrast to this, Jud often has natural light shining down upon him. In moments of clarity or vulnerability the sun shines through the church windows, or follows him as he walks the forest path. Not entirely enveloping him but highlighting him in a warm glow.
Most noticeable was Jud meeting Blanc for the first time. They are under a light that fades into grey as Blanc reveals more and more his distaste for what the Church represents. When Jud responds, not with rebuttal but with understanding and a different point of view, the light returns through the stained glass windows.
Three time in the film the opening of the church door is shown, casting light and shadow over the missing cross. The first was the aforementioned appearance of Wicks. In this he opened just one door, showing his shadow up more than anything else. The other two times it was Jud, pushing them both open and falling to the altar in moments of torment. His shadow is there, the same as Wicks, but it differs in that the light is allowed to stay and shine over the cross. Where Wicks leaves this crucifix, the representation of the Church and faith in darkness, Jud casts light over it, drawing attention to this missing piece of both the Church and the puzzle that they face.
The light shines strongly once more in the final scenes of the film but not for the faithful. It shines over Blanc who has a realisation about allowing the guilty to confess her own sins her own way. Here, the light is not divine but a reminder to Blanc of the empathy and caring of his companion on the case, it reminds him of Jud’s compassion. So he steps away and allows himself to be in the shadow.
Returning to systems of power, we can explore the other major theme running through this film, the utilisation of women for invisible labour and scapegoatism. We have Martha (Glenn Close), a loyal follower of the Church who Jud admits does all the work required to run the place. She has done this since she was young for Wicks and his grandfather, carrying the burden of their secrets and their labour. Simone (Cailee Spaeny) is promised a miracle in return for money and Vera (Kerry Washington) is part of a legacy of lies and cover ups and was expected to play her part without complaint. One of the most important pieces of the puzzle is Grace (Annie Hamilton), a woman who could never live up to her name in the eyes of her family. Manipulated by her father to stay living at the rectory, she was shamed by her father and her son for sins that Wicks would later be revealed to have committed as well. Martha was a part of the scheme to keep Grace in line. Her complicity in keeping the lie made her a hellish figure. We see this from the first flashback of Grace destroying the church. There is a bloodred moon outside and when she cries out it is a demonic shriek that emerges. Wicks uses Grace as part of the myth he has constructed around his church, the same way he uses all of the women in this film to fill in a gap or to fix a problem. When the mystery is cleared up and everything becomes clear, these women are set free from their attachment to a church that rinsed them for all they had and Grace is at last free from the judgement and shame of the living.
Over all this film feels like the most refined of the Knives Out series. The narrative is airtight and intricate, if you take notice of enough things then you can play along and try to figure out the story for yourself. Johnson places all the pieces in front of us so that on a rewatch you start to notice little details that give clues to what occurred. I, like many, hope that they continue making these films as not only are they incredibly entertaining, but their resolutions can often be cathartic. Johnson knows how to balance the real world with a fiction that is engaging but grounded. The settings and technical attributes have only gotten better as these films have progressed and there are so many aspects of this film that I could have touched on in this review. With such skilled casts, well-crafted stories, and an interesting detective who is not as pompous as Sherlock Holmes but has his sleuthing skills and an empathetic urge, it is no wonder that these films remain so popular and rewatchable.
