If most people know the name Rian Johnson, it is because he directed the nerd-dividing Star Wars: Episode VII – The Last Jedi. But what got him that much-coveted job was his outstanding work as writer and director of his first three films before that: Brick, The Brothers Bloom and Looper; each one a meticulously crafted, unique take on a genre: respectively, noir, con-artist/heist and sci-fi.
With Knives Out, Johnson has returned to his bread and butter, writing and directing an intricate puzzle box of a movie in one of the genres most demanding of interlocking intricacy: the mansion murder mystery.
I will attempt to remain spoiler-free, as this is a classic whodunit (with modern subversions), but those already interested in seeing this holiday gem might want to cease reading here. There is murder afoot! And the “murderee” is Christopher Plummer’s famed mystery writer Harlan Thrombey, dead of apparent suicide by knife across the throat. The death occurred in the dead of the night after Thrombey’s 85th birthday party, which all of his colorful children and grandchildren attended, most of whom stayed overnight at his estate. The stacked cast includes Jamie Lee Curtis as Harlan’s daughter Linda, who fancies herself father’s pet and a “self-made” woman; her husband Richard (Don Johnson), a smarmy but charming A-hole of no apparent merit; their son Ransom (Chris Evans), a spoiled sort who at one time held Harlan’s high favor; the simpering, limping Walt (Michael Shannon), who oversaw father’s publishing and is raising an alt-right troll (IT’s Jaeden Martell); and their sister-in-law Joni (Toni Collette), who has glommed onto the Thrombeys since her husband’s (their brother’s) death, and presents as a spiritual skin-cream guru and influencer.
The first act introduces these myriad suspects as LaKeith Stanfield’s Lieutenant Elliott casually questions each one before the mysteriously hired private detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) takes over. In true Agatha Christie fashion, Blanc has an outrageous accent, but substitutes Poirot’s Belgian barbs for Blanc’s delta drawl, an amusing and effective choice that provides the bitter Thrombey’s ripe grounds for roasting. Blanc’s sights soon narrow in on Harlan’s personal nurse, Marta (Bladerunner 2049’s Ana de Armas), whose reflexive, regurgitative reaction to untruths could make her a trustworthy assistant in his quest for clues.
Everyone in this movie is great, even those not mentioned here (and there are many), as the script is like fresh meat to the wolves; they sink their teeth into it. It’s as funny as it is mysterious, and the set is as luscious as the script, with odd visual treats in every corner of the old mansion and the camera’s frame. As the film goes on, Johnson subtly and expertly twists the tropes and conventions of this genre of high crimes among the high class, and in so doing, Knives Out keeps you laughing and—unless you’re my super-sleuth girlfriend—keeps you guessing till the very end.
