Knives Out

 By Nandakishore Varma

Agatha Christie wrote the whodunnits with the most intricate plots. She was never "literary" (even though her language is pretty good); she never created very complex characters; and her stories followed the same formula, with the detective finally assembling all the suspects and pulling the most unlikely one out of the hat. Very unrealistic, as her critics (despicable humans, all of them!) scoff; very enjoyable, as her countless fans (among whom the author of this post considers himself) say. (Those who badmouth Dame Agatha and her works need to be given strychnine in their soup, shot through the heart and stabbed in the back of the neck as they sit reading in their library - but that's the subject of another post.)

I watched the movie "Knives Out", directed by Rian Johnson yesterday night, and was immediately reminded of Christie. I looked it up on Google and - voila! - it seems that he is a fan, and this movie is a tribute to Dame Agatha. And what a tribute! It is intricate, fast-paced, and an extremely ingenious whodunnit; but what makes it special is its level of self-awareness. The tribute is also a spoof on the genre of the cosy British murder mystery.

Harlan Thrombey, a best-selling crime novelist, dies on the night of his 85th birthday. It's apparently a suicide, with author having cut his throat himself. However, renowned private investigator Benoit Blanc is pulled into the investigation by an "anonymous client", who suspects foul play. And in the tradition of all good whodunnits, the whole family is there so that there are no dearth of suspects! As the investigation proceeds, the police doddering about in the time-honoured whodunnit fashion and the private sleuth going about in his own eccentric way his wonders to perform, secret after secret is revealed until the murderer stands exposed.

The movie is full of caricatures of the standard tropes of mystery fiction. The money-grubbing relatives, the never-do-we'el son, the dedicated nurse, the unimaginative police officer and the eccentric detective (who is of French origin, natch!) all playing their roles to perfection. The house is a huge New England mansion with creaking staircases and secret entrances, which all faithfully play their assigned roles. The camera floats through the mysterious corridors and the editing transitions smoothly between the flashbacks and the present. We know that we are watching a great murder mystery - but at the same time, the director is telling us not to take him too seriously.

Every good whodunnit usually has something unusual in it. Here it is the strange medical condition that plagues nurse Marta (who is also the central character) - telling a lie makes her vomit! This unrealistic "disease" is used to full potential by the director to drive the tale forward.

Most whodunnits can usually be only watched once - once the cat is out of the bag, we lose interest. But I believe this movie can be watched multiple times to appreciate the beauty of its construction. Kudos the director. Well done, _mon ami_!