Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

Is This Reality?

or

People Who Live in Glass Onions Shouldn't Throw Parties

When last we left renowned detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), he was solving the suspiciously unsuspicious death at the head of the Thrombey clan. In that mystery, one of the biggest puzzles was why he was there in the first place. Oh, he'd been hired, alright, he just didn't know by whom. It was just one of the intricate mysteries at the center of Catherine Wheel of Cutlery that defined that family and was—unofficially and unadmittably—its family crest.

Now, in Glass Onion (unnecessarily sub-titled "A Knives Out Mystery"*), he's inserted into a similar situation; he finds himself an uninvited guest to an improbable clique-gathering of rich-niks on an exclusive Greek island, at the behest of tech-billionaire Miles Bron (Edward Norton), who has sent mystery boxes to his clutching clutch of friends (whom he dubs "The Disruptors") that, when solved, offers an invitation to his Greek hideaway/headquarters for a weekend that promises a murder mystery and a prize to whoever solves his murder.

The guests are all old friends/associates with Miles: there's Lionel Toissant (Leslie Odom Jr.), a scientist working from Bron's company "Alpha"; there's Birdie Jay (Kate Hudson), former model, "influencer" and CEO of "Sweetypants" loungewear and her assistant Peg (Jessica Henwick)—charged with protecting the Birdie Jay "brand" due to her client's frequent faux pas; there's Duke Cody (Dave Bautista), a men's rights internet "influencer" and his girlfriend Whiskey (Madelyn Cline); there's Connecticut governor Claire Debella (Kathryn Hahn), who has been helped to office by Miles; and finally, there's Cassandra Brand (Janelle Monáe), who co-founded Alpha with Miles and who had been cut out of the company after clashing with him over a new energy fuel, "Klear."

As it's set in 2020 and there's a pandemic on, everyone is required to wear masks until spritzed with an oral COVID remedy. Once everybody's in place, everybody's happy to see each other, surprised to see Blanc, and shocked that Cassandra had "the balls" to attend. Bron is surprised to see Blanc, as well, but for a different reason—he never invited him. Who did? Along with the game that's about to be played, it is one more mystery. Everyone gets settled and gets acquainted, re- or otherwise. It becomes apparent that people are keeping secrets, and most are in some sort of debt to Bron. So, why these folks, why a murder mystery, and...why Blanc?

Why, indeed? But, to mention any more of the details will be to give away 70% of the movie. Why so much? Because you see events played out at least 2½ times. At one point, there is a cameo by Yo-Yo Ma (there are a ton of them**) where he explains what a fugue is, only to have writer-director Rian Johnson do a story version of the same concept in the very movie. Johnson is clearly having fun with the form (just as he did with the "Star Wars" universe, frustrating as it was for Orthodox Fans) and employs some of the hardest tropes in the genre in new and inventive ways. In fact, it rather reminded me of the way Robert Zemeckis capered within his Back to the Future movie in the Part II of the series (which was the one I enjoyed the most). Things are not always what they seem the first time around.

Johnson's co-conspirators in the thing are clearly enjoying themselves: Hudson has rarely been better, clearly enjoying going "all-out" in her performance, and the two actors who have the least screen-cred—Henwick and Cline—are given meaty roles to play, rather than after-thoughts. Norton is his subtly slick self. But, the stand-out (besides Craig's enjoying re-toying with the Blanc character) is Monáe, who has the toughest role, but pulls it off with what would appear to be the least amount of effort. It's part of the charm of the movie.

The other lovely thing about what Johnson is doing with the Blanc series is the sociological perspective. Just as Billy Wilder made movies that played with—and passed a sort of judgment on—the mores of their times, Johnson is making sly comments on worth and celebrity these days.

One doesn't have to make a large leap to figure out who the inspiration for Miles Bron is, but one could also make a case for a few other venture-capitalists who have a great idea but a better way to make other people pay for it. Once the money has rolled in, they can "exert influence" to buy secure the talent needed to make it work. If it doesn't work, you end up in court for fraud. If it does work, well, that was the intention, and if it works a little bit, you can spin it to say it was a complete success. This would be called "public relations."

As such, Blanc sticks out like a sore thumb in the crowd. He's not a "disrupter" (although he's better at it than anybody else on the island), but looks for truth within the bounds of "the System" among all the spinners, shakers, hangers-on, and wannabe's that surround him. Everybody talks a good game, but for Blanc it's no game. Lying is easy, but hard truths are...hard. Even when no one will admit to it. But, then, they have their reasons, and their reasons are that fame is fleeting if not buttressed with hard cash. Truth lasts.

Beneath it all, it's a fight for Truth—far beyond anything else that might be transitorially valuable. But, it's a hidden message hiding in plain sight among the cameos, trickery, feints, and revelations that Johnson delights in cramming into every frame with the hope of throwing you off the scent. My favorite example is the guy who lives on the island who wanders, drunken or high, into the frame and waves off with a "Just ignore me." But, should you? The character is named Derol, but I have a sneaking suspicion his real name might be "Red." As in the Herrings?

* Is that because no one would associate it without the allusion to Knives Out, or no one (at this point) is familiar enough with the character of Benoit Blanc? It's a mystery, itself. As such, that appendage is as irrelevant (and will be increasingly so) as the titles of the so-called "Thin Man" series.

 

**

Benoit Blanc on a Zoom call.

That would be Stephen Sondheim, Natasha Lyonne, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Angela Lansbury. 

 

This is just a distraction...and a nearly naked attempt to get clicks.
 

Nine

Mary Poppins Returns is great. But here's an earlier musical by its director Rob Marshall that stunk, despite a rich subject matter and some great stars. 

Written at the time of the film's foisting.

"How Do You Solve a Problem Like Fellini?"
or
"There Ought To Be Clowns (Don't Bother, They're Here)"

There is a great movie, I'm sure, to be made of the Tony Award winning musical Nine. But this isn't "it." Nor, I think, was "it" an intention for the production company to do so.

In fact, it is hard to determine what "it" is, and what "it" intends to do. Is it a musical adaptation of Fellini's 8 1/2, or of Fellini's life? Is it even an adaptation of the original musical, as there are far more songs left out of it than are in it?* Locations are changed, circumstances and motivations are sliced and diced. One wonders what was so wrong about a hailed musical confection that the late Anthony Minghella and Michael Tolkin (who wrote the script), current director Rob Marshall, and the producers seem to be running away from it.

They aren't the only ones, merely they slowest of the pack. Daniel Day-Lewis was a last minute first tier replacement for the more suitable Javier Bardem when Bardem walked off the project pleading "exhaustion"—but not exhausted enough to flee, evidently. Bardem makes very wise career choices. Nicole Kidman replaced Catherine Zeta-Jones after the producers wouldn't acomodate her demands to expand her part. One wonders why they'd balk about making any more changes for their Chicago Oscar-winner after making so many of their own.

But, truth be told, the thing is a sorry, sorry mess. Not true to its source, its inspiration, or even to itself, one reads the description of the original musical and wonders why it is not the movie. But one gets an inkling. Fellini's film, made about a creator's inability to create a harmonious chorus of the voices in his head, his muses, his collaborators and backers all clamoring for attention had a structure, a purpose and an approach. But it did not have a lift, a creative inspiration until Fellini made it about a director rather than a writer. Fellini had no trouble making it, letting his conscience and unconscious be his guide (or Guido, if you will). On the contrary, he was energized by it. His "film that got away" would not occur until a bit later in his career.

The creators of Nine saw it as about themselves, and the difficulty of achieving a vision. One sees the disconnect with the Fellini inspiration as soon as the musical Guido's obsession with the Folies Bergiere is brought to song. Folies Bergiere? Mama Mia! Where's the Circus? Fellini equals circus! Comprende? But, "Nine" the musical—not the film, that gets even worse—is glitz and spangles and presentation with a smattering of psychological insight embroidered in a mash-up (one can't call it a mixture) of half-inspired and un-inspired songs.

"Nine," the movie, is a whoring down of that concept. Big stars. Small ideas. A polyglot of a tribute to a movie it doesn't understand, and the Broadway production that the money-men didn't feel had enough pizzazz** to put keisters in the seats (Because nothing makes you want to "Fosse, Fosse, Fosse" and booty-shake like ennui and creative stagnation!***). So, we've got Day-Lewis (he's fine—not too believable, but at least he's not doing a John Huston imitation this time).**** We've got Nicole Kidman and Penélope Cruz (wonder what they had to talk about on-set?), Kate...Kate Hudson (??), and....Fergie?(!!). Then, to give it some ethnic legitimacy they throw in Sophia Loren***** and Miramax staples Judi Dench and Marion Cotillard. Cotillard is heart-breaking as the Giulietta Massina look-alike wife—played by Anouk Aimée in Fellini's film (she's even got Massina's brave smile down). Dench does fine by her number, silly and irrelevant as it is, but as if to gin up any excitement, they work over-time trying to make it entertaining. Cruz gets a sizzling number as director Guido Contini's mistress-played by Sandra Milo in the original film. Kidman plays Contini's past star Claudia (based on the Claudia Cardinale character in 8 1/2—which would have tied in with Zeta-Jones' participation, but goes back to the original inspiration, "ice queen" Anita Ekberg for Kidman's participation). Loren plays Contini's domineering Mamma, usually a grotesque in Fellini's films. Director Rob Marshall undercuts the material by over-cutting, editing all the momentum out of the music, which veers from worthwhile ("Be Italian" given a rip-roaring rendition by...give her credit, she's the best thing here...Fergie of "The Black Eyed Peas") to the filler ("Cinema Italiano" given sass by Kate Hudson, but shot and edited like an MTV version of the old '60's "Shindig!" program).

I was looking forward to this one, but very high expectations leave the biggest craters when they fall. Not a fan of musicals, Nine only confirmed why I've rarely enjoyed them, as they can be false and irrelevant to anything resembling life or the impulse to song that it might evoke.

This adaptation of an adaptation of a somewhat autobiographical work by the artist, even though titularly and musically adjusted for inflation, just isn't worth as much as the original. Artistically, it is bankrupt.

* Three new songs were written for it, all of them unmemorable—in a bid to score more Oscar nominations for The Weinstein Company which oversaw this sorry mess.

** Imagined conversation: "Y'know? Everybody's singing about their feelin's an' everything! There's not enough dancing with women with big bazooms, and Alfa Romeo's and Fiat's!! Know what I'm sayin'?" 

*** Although Fosse did make a musical based around a heart attack.

****...which reminds me, the last movie I've seen that ended (like Nine) with the director-figure saying "Action" was Clint Eastwood's White Hunter, Black Heart—where Eastwood was playing (and imitating) John Huston!

***** Did it occur to the makers that the only Italian in their film celebrating Italian cinema is Loren? And that she didn't work with Fellini?