Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), like all good detectives, is a man of reason. Also, like all good detectives, he boasts a few peculiarities, like a deep, southern drawl and an impeccable sense of old-fashioned style. Blanc is, of course, the investigator in the latest installment of the popular mystery series, Knives Out, but arguably, he is not the main character.
Instead, it’s an upstart Catholic priest named Father Judd (Josh O’Connor). Faith is the main subject, and grace the main theme of the movie. Although the writer and director Rian Johnson has deconstructed the evangelical faith of his youth, the film Wake Up Dead Man makes a powerful case for sincere faith and grace.
Note: The Netflix-released movie is not for kids. It’s rated PG-13 and has adult themes, violence, and swearing, although no sex scenes.
Let’s dive in.
First, the mystery itself. In my view, the film’s plot was complex yet accessible enough to be an excellent murder mystery.
It’s a case of a so-called “locked-door” whodunit, a classic in the genre shaped by legends like Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers, and others. And, of course, we can’t forget G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown series, where the detective is a bona fide priest. Johnson draws on all these authors for influence.
Second, we need to consider the film’s social commentary. In the first Knives Out installment, Johnson takes aim at wealthy White elites whose progressive views crumble at the drop of a hat. Johnson loves exposing hypocrisy.
In the second installment, Glass Onion, reviewed by Nathan Allen for Denison Forum, Johnson targets the Musk-like billionaires who think they’re untouchably brilliant and charismatic, but are actually broadly disliked and unaware.
This third film focuses on conservative and alt-right Christians—no surprises there. All three movies, in my view, have been too heavy-handed to say anything interesting socially. But there’s more to the films than their ham-fisted social critiques.
As long as you can stomach the overwrought commentary, the film’s actually pretty excellent. Craig and O’Connor’s performances are especially powerful. The movie is snappy, well-directed, and interesting. But the greatest strength of this film is in its honest exploration of the good in Christianity by a non-Christian.
Priestly duties and grace
Johnson has said in interviews that he used to be a “youth group kid,” even into his twenties. He’s no longer a Christian. Nevertheless, a sincere heart shines through the film, as Johnson explores his former faith in an authentic way.
Father Jud isn’t perfect (he occasionally swears and gets drunk on one occasion), but he’s as close to morally good-hearted and loving as a flawed person can be. A former boxer who killed someone in the ring, Jud knows by experience the undeserved grace of Christ in his life.
His antagonist, an older priest named Monsignor Wicks (Josh Brolin), stirs up hatred and judgmentalism in his tiny congregation. He purposefully scares away any newcomers with bitter, targeted sermons. He takes the culture warrior approach to his faith and homilies.
As Johnson says, “Jud’s goal is to be more Christ-like, and to serve the people who need it most. Wicks has a much more us-versus-them approach to faith, ‘Let’s fight the world and win it back for Christ’ type attitude.”
The hotshot detective Blanc shows an active dislike for religion. He doesn’t hold back, calling it all kinds of nasty names and leveling the familiar charge of Christianity being irrational, homophobic, misogynistic, and an opioid for the masses.
Nearly every single other character in the small town is a hypocritical, whitewashed tomb, who cares only for themselves, or is spellbound by Monsignor Wick’s manipulation.
Through it all, though, even to Wicks, the sabotaging, hypocritical, wrathful priest, and Blanc, the atheist, rationalist detective, Jud tries his best to be gracious, optimistic, empathetic, and kind. He proves to be the only genuine follower of Jesus in the film. This makes him stand out all the more.
So, what is the movie’s message about grace? (Spoilers ahead).
The core of grace—concrete acts of love
Monsignor Wicks is murdered, and Father Jud becomes the prime suspect due to their, shall we say, difference in clerical opinions. Detective Blanc arrives on the scene with a different idea. Convinced of his innocence from the start, Blanc takes Father Jud along for a thrilling ride to find clues and solve the mystery together.
From the start, Jud shows a unique, Christ-like ability to show love and abounding patience—his (mostly) pure heart and kind eyes hardly ever get off track. He approaches his faith with utter genuineness. For example, a character named Cy is a failed conservative politician. Cy explains his confusion (incoming humorous, heavy-handed social commentary):
I tried everything. Believe me, I hammered the race thing. I hammered the gender thing, the trans thing, the border thing, the homeless thing, the war thing, the election thing, the abortion thing, the climate thing. The thing about induction stoves, Israel, library books, vaccines, pronouns, AK-47S, socialism, BLM, CRT, the CDC, DEI, 5G, everything. All of it I did. Nobody, just nothing. People are just numb these days. I don’t know why.
How does Jud respond to this diatribe of disingenuousness? He is sincere and apolitical: “Maybe we need to get back to fundamentals, you know, basic building blocks on how to genuinely inspire people.”
It’s so easy for grace to become abstract, a mere concept. A checked box. Grace falls secondary to being right—technically correct. God’s gift to us is grounded in a historical event: the death and resurrection of Jesus, marked by real wounds, tears, and sweat blood.
The film’s most powerful moment:
In my favorite scene, which brought tears to my eyes, Father Jud calls an incidental construction employee named Louise (Bridgett Everett) for a vital clue. But she’s chatty and can’t get to the point. Detective Blanc is anxious, backseat phone calling, telling him to hang up now that they have the clue. Tension builds.
Suddenly, Louise pauses, her voice lowering. “Father. . . Can you pray for me?”
Father Jud is caught off guard, but sighs compassionately. “Sure. May I ask what for?”
“My mother.”
“She’s sick?”
“Yeah. Um. She’s in hospice.”
The movie slows. Louise’s voice begins to quiver, and she tells Jud about a falling out with her mom. You can watch the powerful scene here.
Father Jud gets some privacy to pray for her—for a long time. After the call, he tells Blanc that he’s sick of being a detective out to clear his own name; he just wants to serve people. This is why he became a priest: to minister to hurting and worried people, just as Christ did.
This grounded approach to love, doing something like praying undistractedly for a stranger, is when I feel closest to God and nearest to Jesus’ heart. It’s incredible that it’s so well portrayed and written by an avowed non-Christian.
How real grace inspires
At the climax of the film, Blanc takes the spotlight and delivers his “gotcha!” speech, explaining whodunnit, from the pulpit. As he’s about to expose the final murderer (and explain how Wicks appeared to rise from the dead), he stops. Light cascades through the church’s windows. Detective Blanc pretends not to know the answers anymore; he has a “Damascus moment.”
Why does he stop? Blanc has realized the murderer consumed poison an hour ago, and is going to die soon anyway. Why shame her in front of her whole town, just so he can get the last word?
After everyone but Blanc, Jud, and the police chief leaves, the murderer returns alone and confesses her sins and the murder plot aloud to Jud. She dies after Jud gives her last rites.
Blanc then gives his reasons, “My revelation came from Father Jud. His example to have grace. Grace for my enemy. Grace for the broken. Grace for those who deserve it the least. But who need it the most. For the guilty.”
In short, Blanc, the hard-nosed atheist, inspired by father Jud, gives the murderer Christ-like grace—allowing her to confess her sins on her own terms. He doesn’t convert, of course, but he recognizes the true power of Christ-like love.
Praying for Johnson—and for grace in your life
There’s so much more to unpack in this movie, but I’ll wrap it up here. Johnson has explicitly stated in interviews that he’s trying to explore the good and bad of the Christianity of his upbringing. If he continues to explore in such an open-hearted manner, I’m hopeful that, one day, Christ will bring him home again, welcoming him into the folds of perfect grace.
Even Father Jud can only show an imperfect form of it, but Jesus’ gift of salvation to the guilty is always perfect.
What can Christians take away from this movie? Our most powerful testimony to non-Christians, such as director/writer Rian Johnson, and the fictional detective Blanc, is grounded, sincere acts of love and grace—not winning arguments or venomously tearing down our broken culture.
Would you pray for Johnson to rediscover the light of Jesus?
And would you pray for yourself as well, that God would inspire you to sincere acts of grace today?
