Many factors contributed to the success of Rian Johnson’s 2019 mystery Knives Out. Johnson’s magpie’s eye for a forsaken genre ready for the taking. Or the vision of Daniel Craig letting free as camp investigator Benoit Blanc, cheekily anticipating the end of his James Bond reign. Then there’s the flawless casting: Don Johnson is a sleazy, worthless, gold-digging spouse, because, of course, he is!
The perfection of the film’s Pinterest-ready mood board, as represented in its great production design, costume, and cinematography, is possibly the most important boost to its success. Overcast skies and low, cool November light; a halo of knives as decor; a universe of creepy knickknacks, all stuffed into a creaking New England mansion, somberly redolent of the Old World; Jamie Lee Curtis resplendent in fuchsia, topped with a shock of white hair; Chris Evans’ growling 1970s BMW and beloved cabled sweater; (However, as Rian Johnson’s script cleverly points out, it was acquired from a Pakistani real-estate billionaire in the 1980s.) It’s a witty, humorous film that keeps its self-consciousness at bay, and its aesthetic is spot on.
Consider the mood board for Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery, a Netflix-funded sequel that investigates mind games and murder most wicked among the most wealthy. This time, it’s a Porsche hypercar spinning on a roof-mounted turntable; turquoise seas and sky under a scorching Greek sun; customised cocktail glasses and chiming iPhones; glass sculptures and gizmos embellishing a dream tech palace with a big, onion-shaped dome; and a codpiece-mounted revolver.
In Glass Onion, Daniel Craig, wearing a blue and white striped bathing suit and a yellow cravat, squats next to a small Porsche full of bottles of yellow drink, with Edward Norton in a baseball cap and Madelyn Cline in a bikini.
All of this to indicate that Glass Onion is a brighter, louder, and more extroverted film than Knives Out. Its ideas and clothes embrace bold, cartoony absurdity. Johnson goes for big ideas and huge laughs this time around – this is a livelier film, nearly an outright comedy at points, and a wide one at that. Glass Onion mocks the frantic peacocking of new money in a world of digital billionaires, influencers, and flash-in-the-pan politicians, and Knives Out tackles the protective pretence of inherited riches. But, as previously, the gentlemanly Benoit Blanc is here to dispel these people’s delusions with hilarious kindness.
As previously said, Glass Onion begins as a murder mystery that appears to lack a real murder. In Knives Out, the death of crime writer Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) is investigated as a suicide or an accident at various points, and Johnson delights in keeping the nature of the crime and the identity of the offender hidden until the very end.
There is no acting this time. Miles Bron (Edward Norton), who has amassed an unfathomable wealth through a hazy tech platform known as Alpha, has invited a motley crew of pals to his private Greek island for their yearly reunion. He refers to them as “disruptors”: a stressed-out liberal politician (Kathryn Hahn), a scientific genius who works for Bron (Leslie Odom Jr.), a crass meninist Twitch streamer (Dave Bautista), and an air-headed former model (Kate Hudson) with a line in fancy sweatpants that is booming because it’s 2020, and the COVID-19 pandemic has
In the foreground, Edward Norton is confused in a grey t-shirt on a Greek island beach, with an extravagantly dressed group behind him that includes Kate Hudson, Leslie Odom Jr, Kathryn Hahn, and Dave Bautista.
Image courtesy of Netflix
Everyone is taken aback by the appearance of Andi Brand (Janelle Monáe), who co-founded Alpha with Miles but was mercilessly fired from the firm. Everyone, including Benoit Blanc, appears astonished when he is welcomed. However, Bron has organised a murder mystery party in which he will play the “victim,” thus the world’s finest investigator fits the theme. Any further information would disrupt the delicate clockwork of Johnson’s strategy — but, of course, someone dies for real, and someone has an interest in making sure there’s a famous detective on the scene.
While Johnson admires Agatha Christie’s classic mysteries, the gamesmanship with which they are constructed isn’t enough for him. He feels compelled to play games with the game of whodunit. What if the killer did not actually conduct the crime? What if the victim isn’t the intended victim? Rather of revealing his trickery at the end, like he did in Knives Out, he takes a tremendous risk and reveals it midway through Glass Onion. At that moment, he flips the script and rewinds the story to start over, casting every event and many people in a new light.
It’s quite the structural trick. Some of the tactics he employs to do this are dated, but they feel appropriate for such a smirking, theatrical venture, and the work is sound: all the parts come together. However, the gamble has additional repercussions. The shift in perspective deepens and enriches certain personalities while flattening others. Importantly, genre traditions demand Johnson to pull off a reveal at the end to match the surprise of the twist he constructed halfway through, but when he gets there, it turns out he’s run out of possibilities, and the reward falls flat.
Janelle Monáe appears terrified in a dark corridor with modern art on the wall. A dark person may be seen in the backdrop.
