‘Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery’ Review: A Strong Cast in a Franchise Running on Charm

Rian Johnson’s Knives Out saga has more in common with James Cameron’s Avatar than one might think. Not in form, tone, or genre—on the surface, they couldn’t be further apart—but in something subtler: both filmmakers have committed years, even decades, to franchises that don’t quite rise to the level of their talent. Successful entries notwithstanding, there’s a lingering sense that it would be far more exciting to watch these directors apply their skills to other worlds, other stories, other tonal palettes. But both clearly found something irresistible in their respective universes, and neither seems ready to let go anytime soon.

Johnson’s case isn’t as extreme; plenty of filmmakers have built trilogies or sprawling multi-film sagas—Francis Ford Coppola with The Godfather, Steven Spielberg with Indiana Jones—while still moving freely across genres and narrative styles. Johnson, the director of Brick, Looper, and the unfairly maligned yet excellent Star Wars: The Last Jedi, has been almost entirely devoted (aside from the occasional TV venture) to Christie-style whodunits since 2019. With Wake Up Dead Man, the Knives Out entries now make up three of his seven features. It’s hard not to wonder if this charming but modestly scaled exercise in style deserves such sustained attention. Or perhaps Johnson sees something deeper in the format—some structure or flexibility that allows him to sneak in stories far more layered than they initially appear.

If those themes are there, they don’t feel central. What emerges instead is a series of stylistic experiments—well-crafted, meticulously assembled exercises from a filmmaker who already mastered the form with the first Knives Out. The clearest sign of Johnson’s attempt to push the franchise outward lies in how long he withholds Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig). Blanc’s late arrival is part of the formula, yes, but here the delay is especially pronounced. Until he shows up—perhaps even after—the film belongs to Father Jud Duplenticy (Josh O’Connor), a former boxer turned priest who has been reassigned to a small town after an incident in which his two professions collided a bit too literally.

The town isn’t the problem, nor is the venerable church of Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude. The issue is the priest Jud has been sent to assist—and, one suspects, eventually replace. Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin) is a harsh, intense figure who preaches a combative brand of Christianity. And, as tends to happen these days, that brutality plays well. The parallel between Wicks and a certain political figure is not subtle. When Jud fills in for him at the pulpit, he’s met with indifference, even annoyance. Wicks may be difficult—even unhinged, as demonstrated by his bizarre confessional scene—but he is undeniably a leader. Jud is just beginning his education.

The monsignor isn’t the only eccentric in this “small town, big hell” outpost. There’s Martha Delacroix (a deliciously odd Glenn Close), Wicks’s jack-of-all-trades assistant; plus the congregation’s prominent figures: Dr. Sharp (Jeremy Renner), attorney Vera Draven (Kerry Washington), Simone the cellist (Cailee Spaeny), and washed-up novelist Lee Ross (Andrew Scott). After the inevitable crime—because of course there is one—a police officer played by Mila Kunis enters the picture, bringing quirks of her own.

As expected, someone dies; who, exactly, is best left unspoiled. What matters is that Father Jud becomes a prime suspect and must investigate alongside Blanc—or on his own—to clear his name. The film ties past and present into increasingly elaborate knots until the mystery becomes swollen, even unwieldy. Over the nearly two-and-a-half-hour runtime, the early curiosity and momentum gradually give way to fatigue, once all the thematic and emotional pieces are on the table and what remains is the prolonged march toward resolution.

The standout here, unsurprisingly given his recent streak, is O’Connor. His performance—open, grounded, free of the theatrical excesses that often accompany the genre—plays beautifully against the heightened energy of Craig, Brolin, and a slyly playful Close. Even when patience is tested by the story’s nested riddles within riddles, the cast keeps the film alive. They seem to be having just as much fun as Johnson, who clearly enjoys tinkering within a sandbox that encourages invention, exaggeration, and a touch of madness.

But the lingering impression is that the film, and perhaps the saga as a whole, doesn’t leave much behind. Writing this review two weeks after watching Wake Up Dead Man, the details have already started to fade. That can happen after seeing many films, yes—but Looper has stayed vivid with me since 2012. Perhaps the ultimate goal of this franchise is simply that Netflix subscribers spend a pleasant couple of hours in the company of movie stars figuring out who the killer is and forget all about it in a week or so. In that sense, Johnson delivers exactly what he intends.