Knives Out (Rian Johnson, 2019)

A star-studded whodunnit squarely of the Agatha Christie school, Knives Out proves to be a resoundingly enjoyable, riotous ride. Christopher Plummer, playing best-selling crime novelist Harlan Thrombey, is found dead in his house on the night of his 85th birthday party, attended by all of his back-biting family, and master private detective Daniel Craig (gamely essaying a Southern gentleman accent to no small comic effect) arrives to investigate. It soon transpires that all of the family members have something to hide and a motive of some kind for doing away with the head of the family, who was about to cut them off from his considerable fortune. The only apparently innocent member of the household, Thrombey's South American nurse, duly becomes the detective's confidante, even as it is revealed in gradual increments that things (of course) are not quite as clear cut as they may first appear.
The house, full of creepy curios, is obviously a direct nod to that of the crime novelist played by Laurence Olivier in Sleuth, and the casually elitist and self-centred bulk of the characters and the Poirotesque detective, with his odd little mannerisms and sayings, are all straight out of Christie. So far, so familiar. However, what Johnson has managed to add to the basic formula is a sprinkling of black humour, some very witty dialogue (Christie was never too concerned with wit) and a sociopolitical subtext that, likewise, Christie couldn't really give a fig about, as it becomes clear how much the fact that the nurse is an immigrant really means to the condescending family. All the players involved obviously enjoy themselves hugely, and it's nice to see what Johnson, an able director with a deftness of touch, can do when not constrained by having to satisfy hordes of disparate fans, as was the case with his last work, The Last Jedi.

7/10