Rian Johnson’s 'Wake Up Dead Man' Trades Whimsy for Weight in a Lock-Room Labyrinth

Rian Johnson's third installment in the Benoit Blanc franchise, Wake Up Dead Man, serves as a pointed thematic and aesthetic correction to the sun-drenched, vacation-mystery tone of its predecessor, Glass Onion. This new film is characterized by a chilly, overcast atmosphere, immersing the audience in an entertaining but noticeably darker world where every shadow eventually meets a sliver of light.

Drawing inspiration from classic "locked door mysteries" such as The Hollow Man and The Murders in the Rue Morgue, Dead Man challenges Daniel Craig's master detective, Benoit Blanc, with a seemingly impossible case. This conceit allows Johnson to delve into profound themes that resonate with the current decade, exploring the conflicts between faith and logic, greed versus sacrifice, and the enduring human need for narrative and belief, whether secular or spiritual. It represents a subtle, sideways approach by a talented writer seeking to incorporate the complexities of the 2020s into a fascinating genre exercise built on timeless, universal chords. The result is an ambitious delight: a film that actively seeks common ground between different factions rather than cementing ideological division.

The narrative centers on Reverend Jud Dupenticy (Josh O’Connor), a young priest reassigned to a troubled New York parish after an incident involving him striking a deacon. Jud finds himself under the authority of Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (a commanding Josh Brolin), a brutal, tyrannical figure who rules his congregation through anger and fear. Wicks preaches from a pulpit of fire, using shame and guilt as his primary tools of control, arguing that faith is under attack and must be fiercely defended. Jud, still grappling with his own violent past and the need for atonement after killing a man in the boxing ring, operates from the opposite side of the spectrum, favoring compassion over confrontation. This duality—the clash between the Monsignor’s punitive tribalism and Jud’s inclusive desire to welcome outsiders—forms the core ideological struggle of Wake Up Dead Man, mirroring the fractured state of contemporary society.

The Monsignor’s loyal inner circle, naturally, becomes the cast of suspects when the inevitable murder occurs. These figures include Martha Delacroix (Glenn Close), Wicks’ fiercely devoted, lifelong servant; Groundsman Samson Holt (Thomas Haden Church), a quiet man whose gratitude for Wicks saving him from alcoholism is tied to his love for Martha; Dr. Nat Sharp (Jeremy Renner), who turned to the bottle after losing his wife to a Phish message board; Lee Ross (Andrew Scott), a former hit songwriter consumed by internet conspiracy theories; and Simone (Cailee Spaeny), a young woman who believes Wicks can cure her chronic pain. Adding further layers of conflict are Vera Draven (Kerry Washington), who harbors deep resentment for caring for her terrible half-brother Cy (Daryl McCormack), an aspiring politician skilled at weaponizing online outrage via social media. A superb supporting cast, including Jeffrey Wright, Mila Kunis, and a wonderfully effective Bridget Everett, rounds out the intricate ensemble.

Unusually for the franchise, Blanc is entirely absent for much of the first act, allowing O’Connor to serve as the undeniable narrative lead. He delivers a performance that is both grounded and playfully conflicted, exploring Jud's attempts to understand the anger that drove his past violence. The exploration of anger—Jud’s background, Wicks’ brutality, Martha’s judgment, Cy’s opportunism, and Nat’s resentment—weaves throughout the plot. While this is clearly Johnson reflecting the divided world outside the cinema walls, the film maintains a surprisingly optimistic outlook, championing understanding over conflict without ever succumbing to preachy or sentimental tones. The razor-sharp script confirms Johnson’s place among the best writers of his generation.

Beyond the expected narrative acuity, the film showcases Johnson's increasing mastery of his craft as a filmmaker. Although many viewers will access Wake Up Dead Man on a small screen, the film's visual quality is unmistakable. Regular cinematographer Steven Yedlin delivers some of his finest work, creating a gorgeous aesthetic that offsets the cool, imposing darkness of the old New York church with carefully framed streams of sunlight piercing the stained-glass windows. This heightened visual quality elevates the film above the often underlit productions typical of streaming services. Furthermore, Bob Ducsay’s essential editing is key to maintaining the film's propulsive momentum as the impossible case begins to unravel.

While the central murder case is arguably a beat or two overly complex and nearly impossible for the audience to solve, the true appeal, consistent with the entire Knives Out series, lies not in the "whodunit" but the "whydunit." The film’s entertainment and power derive from the layers of human drama beneath the crime's resolution. At one point, the film briefly transforms into an unlikely buddy comedy as Jud, the man of faith, and Benoit, the man of logic, approach the case from their radically different perspectives. The ultimate power of this sermon, however, lies in its hopeful insistence that we—and the factions within the story—have more in common than we realize, suggesting that true awakening can only happen once that shared humanity is discovered.