When young priest Jud Duplenticy is sent to assist charismatic firebrand Monsignor Jefferson Wicks, it’s clear that all is not well in the pews. After a sudden and seemingly impossible murder rocks the town, the lack of an obvious suspect prompts local police chief Geraldine Scott to join forces with renowned detective Benoit Blanc to unravel a mystery that defies all logic.

This might be the first of all the Knives Out movies that played out like a real, classic murder mystery. And, now that I think about it, there might be a good reason for that. But that’s a spoiler or two too many. Put simply, this is Benoit Blanc at his most performative and his most genuine, and it’s a combination that works brilliantly. What starts as a seemingly unsolvable mystery soon spirals out of control into a web of deception that just might take down an entire town. As far as mysteries go, it might be the most compelling one of the three Knives Out films, complete with plenty of twists, turns, red herrings, and fake-outs, but underneath all of that Agatha Christie set dressing rests a shockingly intimate bit of character drama. 

Josh O’Connor’s Father Jud forms the emotional center of the film as a priest struggling to come to grips with his faith as it rests within the context of a larger conversation about religion’s place in America. And while Johnson doesn’t necessarily explore anything here that hasn’t been explored with more depth and nuance elsewhere, this emotional core still works exceedingly well, particularly as Johnson contrasts Jud’s spiritual faith with Blanc’s faith in the reality of truth. But what is truth, as Pilate asks in Jesus Christ Superstar, “we both have truths, are yours the same as mine?”

It’s a question that lies at the heart of the film—the falsehoods within truths and the reality within lies. What is a story if not a collection of truths, omissions, and fabrications? But sometimes the emotional reality within a piece of fiction can be just as truthful as empirical fact. And though the film’s handling of that idea is sometimes messy, it still plays around with it in exactly the way an over-the-top murder mystery might—to immensely enjoyable effect. 

Daniel Craig once again shines as Blanc, and while there’s certainly a metric ton of scenery chewing, this might be Craig’s most emotionally honest portrayal yet. Underneath all of that pomp and circumstance, Blanc is really no different than O’Connor’s struggling priest, and seeing Blanc flounder within this world of faith is immensely compelling. Craig and O’Connor easily carry the film on their backs, and it’s a testament to the emotional truth they bring to this over-the-top silliness that the film works as well as it does. People might come to Wake Up Dead Man to see Craig don that ridiculous Southern accent once more, but it’s O’Connor’s performance that everyone will be talking about after the credits roll. 

That’s not to say the rest of the cast don’t steal glimpses of the limelight; far from it. Everyone here brings their A game, even if the ensemble isn’t quite as well balanced or well served as in Knives Outs past. Glenn Close, in particular, is absolutely enticing here, a mixture of Cruella de Vil and one of those devout townsfolk you’d see in something like The Music Man, and watching her go toe-to-toe with Craig’s scenery-chewing is truly a sight to behold. 

At the end of the day, if this is to be the final outing for Benoit Blanc, then it’s quite a finale to go out on. In a way, it’s as though all three of the Knives Out films have been leading here, to this crisis of faith for Blanc, and Johnson tackles it brilliantly. It’s not necessarily as sharp as the original Knives Out was, and it’s occasionally a bit too padded for its own good, but it’s an exceedingly compelling mystery carried by some genuinely impressive character work. It’s Knives Out at its silliest and most profound in a way that shouldn’t work but works brilliantly.

4.5 out of 5 wands.