Rian Johnson | 2hr 24min
A short walk from the church Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude that the domineering Monsignor Jefferson Wicks presides over, his grandfather lies entombed in a family crypt. The only way in is through the Lazarus door – a simple contraption that makes entry from the outside impossible without specialist equipment, yet which can be easily pushed open from within, should its occupant be granted the same revival as its namesake. The foreshadowing is unmistakable, particularly in the wake of Wicks’ mysterious death on Good Friday, which his confidant, organist, and devout secretary Martha proclaims will be undone in three days. Like Jesus Christ before him, he is said to rise on Easter Sunday – but as Benoit Blanc soon discovers, the complicated truth behind this promised miracle may prove far stranger than faith alone.
Until then, at least, resurrection can wait. Blanc has far more immediate matters to attend to in Wake Up Dead Man, primarily regarding the peculiar murder that sent this tyrannical priest to an untimely grave. After the thorny family affair of Knives Out and the decadent island party of Glass Onion, Rian Johnson invites his dapper private detective into Wicks’ shrinking rural parish, invoking the literary conventions of classic locked-room mysteries to solve an impossible crime. After retreating to the church’s storage room during the Good Friday service, Wicks collapses with a knife in his back, and seemingly no plausible culprit to account for the deed. Still, his loyal congregation is quick to condemn the only man in their midst who openly despised his dogmatic teachings – the young, idealistic Father Jud.
Unlike its predecessors in the Knives Out series, Wake Up Dead Man does not entirely subvert murder mystery conventions, but that does not mean that Rian Johnson’s carefully plotted twists are any less morbidly compelling. Turning away from the social satire of America’s wealthy elite, he instead targets the rigid ultra-conservatism that demagogues wield to corral their most staunch followers, pitting them against a world they claim is seeking to destroy them. Within Wicks’ parish specifically, the reasons for their devotion are varied – physical healing, political influence, spiritual guidance, creative inspiration – yet each also reveal the many ways faith might be weaponised into collective fanaticism. Dedicated they may be to their zealous, bible-bashing leader, though that should not be mistaken for moral clarity, particularly when faith serves less as a principle then a means of control.
Where Wake Up Dead Man falters is in its opening act of exposition, delivered entirely through Jud’s voiceover as he writes a letter to Blanc. The church is burdened with a complex history after all, stretching back generations to Wicks’ grandfather who once served as its priest, his ill-fated mother Grace who was cruelly branded the “harlot whore,” and a substantial family fortune contained within a lost diamond. Each suspect receives their own introduction as well, as does Jud himself, whose fiery temper led to his assignment at this remote parish as a form of atonement. Although everything we learn in this meticulous setup is crucial information, it lacks the efficient narrative economy of Johnson’s previous murder mysteries, which thrillingly threw us into the chaos from the start. Fortunately once Blanc arrives about a half hour in, the film shifts gears, immersing us in the simmering game of psychological chess that he navigates with Southern charm and razor-sharp cunning.
Even for this astute, eccentric detective, Wake Up Dead Man offers a rich canvas to further develop his elusive character, testing his composure as he confronts faith with reason, and cruelty with compassion. Daniel Craig remains magnificent in his sly gravitas and folksy mannerisms, though it is again the companion at his side who steals the spotlight, here represented by Josh O’Connor’s guilt-ridden priest. Where Ana de Armas and Janelle Monae previously served as moral anchors among the scheming, status-obsessed elite, O’Connor offers a portrait of faith at its most principled, demonstrating sincere benevolence towards those seeking solace through the Catholic Church. This is not to suggest he is without secrets, as he too is tested by temptation and doubt, but the purity of his intentions offers a shining beacon among this “flock of wicked wolves.”
There are few weak links anywhere else in this star-studded cast too, playing into the recognisable screen personas of Andrew Scott, Mila Kunis, Jeremy Renner, Cailee Spaeny, Kerry Washington, and Thomas Haden Church. Some may be a little underused, though that is to be expected in any sprawling ensemble. Far more impactful are the commanding performances by Josh Brolin as Wicks and Glenn Close as the hysterically devoted Martha, whose radicalism teeters between comic relief and chilling menace. Johnson spares no effort in stripping these hypocrites bare of the illusions they wield to maintain power, yet once the possibility of the supernatural surfaces, his story sheds its earthy logic for a realm of dread and ambiguity.
The Neo-Gothic church where much of this investigation unfolds offers a haunting stage for Johnson’s narrative ingenuity, its dark history transforming the house of worship into both sanctuary and snare. Quite notably, there is no crucifix hanging on its wall – in its place, the shadows of key players are often cast across the stonework, becoming a recurring symbol of spiritual emptiness and doubt. Towering over the pews like a jagged precipice, Wicks’ pulpit looms with a sense of both oppressive authority and impending collapse, while the misty, ferny forest which stretches between the church and rectory casts a spectral spell over the grounds. There, Johnson teases out the suspense of his horror-inflected mystery with macabre elegance, hiding truth through skilfully layered foreshadowing and sinister misdirection.
Wake Up Dead Man does not strive to reinvent the genre, though Johnson’s meta-references to The Hollow Man and The Murder of Roger Ackroyd deliberately toy with the expectations of mystery aficionados. In the same vein, Johnson’s biblical imagery delicately entwines the mechanics of the genre with the spiritual, examining notions of belief, mercy, and moral accountability that inform both. In the enacted and figurative embodiments of grace, he thus manifests a righteous resilience in this church that may endure beyond the failings of its congregation, guiding both the faithful and the sceptical through the tangled perplexities of human behaviour. The cerebral pleasures of Wake Up Dead Man’s painstakingly plotted puzzle may captivate the mind, yet Johnson’s careful attention to the moral stakes at play resonates with lasting impact, rising above the malicious orthodoxy of organised religion through steadfast, spiritual integrity.
Wake Up Dead Man is currently playing in cinemas, and will come to Netflix on December 12, 2025.
