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Mia Staub
But there’s more to “Wake Up, Dead Man” than his condemnatory monologue.
Daniel Craig in Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery.
Wake Up Dead Man, the third installment in the murder-mystery movie series Knives Out, shows the church at its worst.
In his latest adventure, detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) encounters a congregation centered on its pastor’s authoritarian personality, rooted in reactiveness instead of restoration. Get ready for plenty of tropes about fire-and-brimstone fury.
And yet there are glimmers of the gospel. For the Christian, Wake Up Dead Man ends up being as hopeful as it is heartbreaking.
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The film takes place at Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude, a small Catholic church in a small fictional town. Right away, we meet Father Jud Duplenticy (Josh O’Connor), a young priest, former boxer, and somewhat-recent convert. After an anger-fueled accident in the ring, he hung up his boxing gloves and dedicated his life to the Lord. Now he’s learning what it is to be a believer, eager to share God’s mercy and love. He’s reminiscent of some of the pastors I grew up around—leaders who came to faith as adults and began guiding others down the same path.
Father Duplenticy is sent as an extra set of hands to a flock whose current priest, Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin), is more about fear than forgiveness. Something is wrong; the cross that once hung in the front of the sanctuary is missing. (Monsignor Wicks’s mother, in a demon-possessed, greed-motivated rampage, tore it down when she learned she would not inherit her father’s fortune.) Now Wicks references the missing cross in every sermon, using it as a symbol to remind the congregation of their sins, the evils of the world, and their perpetual dependence on him as their access to the divine.
After a crass confession, it’s apparent (if it wasn’t already) that Monsignor Wicks is narcissistic, egotistical, and manipulative. He’s focused more on seeking attention from an up-and-coming conspiracy theorist and influencer than on being a shepherd, and he advises a wealthy woman that she can be healed via his prayers. He’s replaced Christ in his church both figuratively and literally.
At its core, Wake Up Dead Man is an entertaining murder mystery. It’s also rife with religious imagery and allegory. Christian viewers might enjoy a richer watching experience because they’ll get all the symbolism—a murder weapon in the shape of a wolf, a tomb opened after three days.
The writing is wonderful. Comedic timing brings levity. I genuinely enjoyed the film.
But it was also hard to watch as someone who loves the church.
Turns out, Benoit Blanc has baggage. He walks into Our Lady’s sanctuary, is asked whether he’s religious, and launches into a barely-pausing-for-air rant about hatred and hurt. Blanc says the church is homophobic, misogynistic, manipulative, abusive, and hypocritical.
A few of his criticisms are fair. The congregation he’s just arrived at is a veritable case in point when it comes to abuse and hypocrisy.
Mia Staub
Mia Staub
But much of his monologue is more reflective of how secular culture stereotypes the church than of how it actually operates or what it really preaches. Blanc’s speech is full of the same kinds of accusations that stop me from sharing the gospel with nonbelieving friends. Who wants to be called an ignorant bigot?
I saw Wake Up Dead Mean at a film festival this fall, surrounded by a largely secular audience. Blanc could barely finish his speech before the crowd erupted in cheers. The theater of over a thousand people was suddenly deafeningly loud, jeering at my religious community as I sat silent.
I’ll remember that uncomfortable moment for the rest of my life. I sat in a crowd of people who—whether personally affronted by the church or assuming the worst of what they’d heard secondhand—clapped for a damning speech about the bride of Christ.
This kind of condemnation is not new to me. I live in Los Angeles; I grew up here too. I love my city, but it’s not the easiest place to be a believer. It’s built on an industry defined by vanity, wealth, and idolatry. Just the other day, an Uber driver asked me if I was happy I was Christian, because, in his opinion, Christians hated everyone else. I went to a public school where believers were few and far between. We didn’t really talk about our faith out of fear of social approbation. The assumption was we were exactly what Benoit Blanc claimed us to be—homophobic, misogynistic, hateful, hypocritical.
The cheers in the theater weren’t surprising. But still, they broke my heart.
As I sat in my velvet seat, I found my brow furrowing and my eyes narrowing. I was getting angry and defensive—not Monsignor Wicks–level mad but way too close, itching to jump from my seat and point at the specks in others’ eyes (Matt. 7:3–5). I wanted to go off on a diatribe of my own, to spout off about my local church—the donations we collected to aid in fire-relief efforts across LA, the hundreds of meals we serve to the unhoused on a weekly basis, and the camp we put on for kids in the foster-care system. I wanted to plead with them to see past the sins of individual Christians and look to the person of Jesus Christ instead.
Also, I wanted to argue, the Bible never promises a perfect people of God. Far from it. Josiah cries out against Israel’s iniquities (2 Chron. 34:21). John says anyone who claims to be without sin is a liar (1 John 1:8–10). Again and again, Scripture highlights the hypocrisy of religious leaders. Jesus flips the tables at the temple, saying the church has become “a den of robbers” (Matt. 21:13). “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness,” he declares. “You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel” (23:23–24).
All this corruption, of course, causes pain. That’s why I was also holding back tears as the crowd clapped, remembering the times I’ve had to convince myself to stay in the pews after sisters and brothers in Christ have been wounded by the church.
Russell Moore
Michael Horton
It is easy to point fingers at bad pastors. But sitting in that theater showed me how easy it is to get fearful, angry, and prideful myself.
In my experience living in Los Angeles, sometimes malice toward the church covers up serious questions, raw curiosity, genuine misunderstandings that can be addressed, and stinging injury God can heal. Scripture also says approbation will come to Christians—and we are to turn the other cheek. “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. … They will treat you this way because of my name, for they do not know the one who sent me,” Jesus says (John 15:18, 21). Instead of getting angry, I must try to bless those who curse the church (Luke 6:28).
Father Duplenticy is the breath of air Wake Up Dead Man needs—modeling integrity, putting others above himself. If the Monsignor is the church at its worst, this priest is the church at its best.
Thanks to Duplenticy’s example, Benoit Blanc witnesses a life in imitation of Christ. That witnessing is integral to his ability (or inability) to solve the latest case. Whether his eventual Damascus road leads to contemplation or confession, I’ll leave for you to find out.
By the end of the movie, I sensed a shift in the audience’s posture. I’d calmed down too. There were even some mumbles and gasps when true mercy was extended. I left the theater hopeful.
Wake Up Dead Man isn’t out to reject Christ. It’s out to decry the human sin found among his people. That’s something all of us, believers or not, can get behind. But Christians have additional context: Sin is not the end of the story. Grace gets the final word in the mystery of faith.
Mia Staub is editorial project manager at Christianity Today.
Mia Staub
Mia Staub
Mia Staub
Mia Staub
Mia Staub
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