The latest Knives Out installment, Wake Up Dead Man, is a substantive depiction of pastoral ministry in imitation of Christ. Within the context of solving a murder mystery, writer/director Rian Johnson offers an extended reflection on what Christlike ministry looks like and, alternatively, what the abuse of priestly power looks like when twisted toward selfish gain.
The film introduces us to two Roman Catholic priests and their vastly different views on the nature of priestly ministry. Which of the two priests is, in the words of novelist Lee Ross (Andrew Scott) the PINO—an acronym for Priest In Name Only? Is it Father Jud or Monsignor Wicks? The film is not simply using a parish church as a convenient backdrop for the murder mystery that unfolds; rather, illustrating what a true priest looks like is one of the narrative’s top priorities.
Father Jud Duplenticy, played by Josh O’Connor, is a young priest who is no naïve saint. Before ordination, he was a boxer who once killed his opponent during a match. His neck tattoo peeking over his dog collar is a constant reminder of his checkered past. Though he has known violence, Jud sought the priesthood as a means of imitating Christ, whom he sees as peaceable and self-sacrificing.
“Christ came to heal the world, not fight it,” Jud says. “I believe that. It’s this” [extending his arms as if on a cross], “not this” [holding up his fists as if ready for a fight]. I just want to be a good priest. Show broken people like me the forgiveness of love of Christ.” The story begins, however, with a lapse in his self-control, when he punches a deacon who made a rude comment. Much of the storyline explores the question of whether Jud has his demons under control or if they still getting the better of him.
For his penance, Jud is sent to serve as an assistant priest at a parish dominated by a longtime vicar, Monsignor Jefferson Wicks, played by Josh Brolin. Father Jud quickly realizes that Wicks is a very different sort of priest. Wicks gains followers through his intense personality, his powerful preaching, and his us vs. them mindset. As he lures parishioners deeper into his control, he twists them into the people he wants them to be, undermining their sense of self and agency until they are obedient, unquestioning, and ready to leap to his defense.
Monsignor Wicks’ abuse of pastoral power is particularly relevant in a time when story after story emerges of these toxic dynamics occurring in churches today, regardless of denomination. Wick seeks to twist his pastoral authority toward his gains, whether financial, sexual, or psychological, a temptation in ministry that any of us involved in church work need to reckon with and guard ourselves against.
As the murder mystery plays out, revealing new facets of these priests’ characters, the film self-consciously pays homage to classic mysteries within the genre, such as The Hollow Man by John Dickson Carr, Whose Body? by Dorothy Sayers, and The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie, all of which are mentioned. Yet the narrative of Wake Up Dead Man is at its best theologically when it steps outside the genre to retain a wider perspective than just whodunnit.
While a murder mystery reflects theological truths in its drive toward truth and justice, Johnson illustrates how joining Benoit Blanc in an elaborate wild goose chase muddies Jud’s focus and tempts him to forget his core mission. One key moment occurs when Father Jud, swept up in trying to solve the mystery, makes a phone call to someone from whom he needs information, a minor character named Louise.
Louise has a meandering style of communication, and Jud tries to hurry her through their phone call, impatient with her inability to get to the point. Suddenly Louise shifts the tone of their conversation completely, calling Jud by his priestly title: “Hey, Father, can I ask you something? … Will you pray for me?” The tight camera shot on Jud’s face reveals the struggle within him to relinquish his pursuit of answers to attend to this person in need. While Jud does not look directly into the camera, it feels as though he has broken a “fourth wall” of the mystery, startling him awake from the trance induced by his single-minded desire to solve the puzzle alongside Blanc.
Next, the camera falls on the pieces of a statue of Jesus that have been smashed in front of Jud to seek evidence. Jud gazes at the body of Christ that he has allowed Blanc to break without objection, while he listened to Louise’s pain and fear due to the looming death of her mother. Confronted with this image of Christ broken open before him, Jud remembers who he is and what he is called to do.
We hear him ask Louise for her mother’s name as he walks into the next room and shuts the door behind him, leaving Blanc alone to wait while he attends to this pastoral need. It is a beautiful moment of Father Jud stepping outside of the normal constraints of a murder mystery to refocus on his calling to speak words of comfort and hope in persona Christi to a person in need.
The film’s depiction of faith, Christian symbolism, and scriptural references reflects that writer/director Rian Johnson grew up as an evangelical Christian, though he no longer identifies with his former faith. “This [film] is for me even a little more personal, because faith and religion is [sic] at the heart of this movie, and I grew up very Christian,” Johnson says in a YouTube clip (warning, the clip includes spoilers). “I was a youth group kid, and it wasn’t just that my parents took me to church; my whole perspective in life was based on a relationship with Christ. I’ve grown away from that later in life … but it’s still something I have deep feelings about.”
However much of his faith he has left behind, Johnson represents Christ’s call that those of us in ministry imitate him by being humble, compassionate, and, in the words of the prayer book, “ever mindful to the needs of others.” By the end of the story, Blanc himself, while not a believer in Christ, gains a new perspective about his role. Blanc says he must show “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.”
Johnson’s version of a mystery demolishes the neat and tidy categorization of good and bad people that this genre often reinforces. Instead, everyone in the film is flawed and in need of grace—which is how God sees us. Any of us in ministry would do well to watch this film for a reminder of the heart of our ministry in Christ’s name.
The Rev. Sarah Puryear lives in Nashville with her family and serves as priest associate at St. George’s Episcopal Church.
