‘Glass Onion’: So Dumb It's Genius

Rian Johnson’s sequel to 'Knives Out' is super clever, super dumb, and super well-written.

NEW STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This newsletter aggressively spoils things.

I have never been hornier for an outfit.

I enjoyed Knives Out, though I found some of it to be a bit too cosplay-adjacent, like Daniel Craig’s ... remarkable accent and the just-slightly-overdone set dressing of the Thrombey house¹. But these are minor complaints—overall Knives Out is a fun, clever mystery, a sturdy story that can support these slightly goofy flourishes².

Initially, I didn’t love Glass Onion, the sequel, as much. I found it to be a little flimsy and superficial at first watch—absolutely enjoyable and certainly not bad, but not meeting the same standard in terms of story and character while committing many of the same sins as the original. Having watched it again and thought on it, however, I’ve warmed up to the film quite a bit³. Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) remains a ridiculous character, but the amazing resort wear outfits he sports in this film endeared him to me and, surprisingly, made the character slightly less ridiculous because they were both in-character and purposeful within the plot⁴. And on second viewing I realized something important about this story, the characters that inhabit it, and even it’s setting, something that elevates the whole enterprise: This entire film—the entire film—is all misdirection.

Once you realize that, it’s kind of genius.

Let’s Fully Inbreathiate This Moment Together

I don’t think anyone does “arrogant moron” better than Ed Norton.

Here’s the thing: Glass Onion isn’t even a mystery. This is not controversial—Blanc basically announces this while he’s rage-solving the whole thing⁵, noting that it’s all very dumb and very obvious. And it is! It is obvious! Sweet lord, the whole second murder is conducted right in front of us. Ed Norton’s Miles Bron hands Dave Bautista’s Duke Cody⁶ the poisoned drink he just made, steals his gun, and lifts his phone all pretty much right before our very eyes on screen.

You probably miss it on first viewing because you’ve been misdirected⁷. Your eye is drawn to all the wrong places on screen, which makes the reveals a series of nice surprises because unlike a lot of mysteries that withhold information, Johnson doesn’t cheat—it’s all there.

But that’s just the most obvious and crucial way he uses misdirection. Literally the entire film is misdirection: The characters are presented to us as crucial parts of both Miles’ backstory and the mystery, but none of them matter aside from Duke, and he only matters because he’s the victim⁸. Everyone else is just there to distract us, like Birdie (Kate Hudson) dancing in her rainbow dress. Hell, the first character we meet is Kathryn Hahn’s Claire Debella, governor of Connecticut and aspiring Senator. You might think we meet her first because she is important to the story. She isn’t. She literally does nothing⁹.

The puzzle boxes? They don’t matter. They’re just dumb puzzles, but we’re trained by a generation of films like Saw to believe that overly-complex puzzle boxes must mean something. Helen/Andi (Janelle Monáe) demonstrates how meaningless they are by not only smashing hers open and not even bothering to work on the puzzles¹⁰, but also repurposing one of the invitations within to get Blanc into the party, demonstrating how not important the boxes are.

The setting? The film’s named after the bizarre glass enclosure Miles has built on his private island, which in turn is named after the bar where he and his group of “disruptors” first started hanging out. Onions are known for their layers, which can imply mystery, but a glass onion removes that mystery because you can see all the layers at once. That is what we professional writers call a “clue” to the whole thing.

It’s all distraction, every bit of it. The first murder happened a week before the story begins, the second happens right in front of us, the motive is exactly what you think it is, and Miles would probably not get away with a single bit of it¹¹. It is, to paraphrase Blanc, very, very dumb. But a lot of effort has gone into all the shiny stuff around it to make it seem clever. But for once the dumbness in a movie is on purpose: Johnson knows the mystery is dumb, and he knows he’s crafting all these fun characters, all the great fashion, the puzzles, the art, the “Joesph Gordon Leviit does the dongs”-ness of it to hide the dumbness until he can reveal it and rub our noses in it. It’s kind of glorious.

The Infraction Point

Janelle Monáe gives excellent face.

To be honest, this is the sort of big-swing, high-concept story I often wish I could write¹². Sadly, I don’t have the deft hand or the head for details that it requires. The idea of writing a mystery where literally every detail is misdirection is exciting, and it’s the sort of thing that would have me up at 4AM after a night of Tequila Fanny Bangers and mushrooms, pacing around gesticulating wildly about how awesome the story was going to be. And then smash cut to a week later when I’ve abandoned the idea after a few depressingly sad attempts¹³.

My favorite bit of distraction in the whole film is when Claire ostentatiously bumps into Duke just before he dies. It’s pushed right at you, as if Johnson is saying “REMEMBER THIS THIS IS IMPORTANT” and then it means nothing and isn’t even mentioned ever again¹⁴!

In almost any other writer’s hands this would all fall apart and collapse into a sad, confused mess¹⁵, but Johnson’s essential narrative is so tight it works. The key here is that Johnson was willing to make his antagonist—Bron—truly, actually stupid. Not stupid in a cartoonish way played for laughs, or nominally stupid but somehow also clever, but literally a not very bright person¹⁶. We’ve all known dumb people in our lives, and Ed Norton absolutely nails the sort of dummy who vapidly repeats things he barely understands, hiding behind jargon and confidence. Because Johnson was willing to make Miles Bron truly, deeply dumb, the simplicity of the murder plot works, and thus all the flashy misdirection works too. It is great writing that uses bad writing as a tool, and that’s spectacular.

The sad part of all this is that I am pretty much Miles Bron: Give me a billion dollars and I, too, will waste it on shit like murder mystery weekends and buying Paul McCartney’s Blackbird guitar just so I can almost play the intro to Blackbird before getting frustrated.

Next week: Mammals and the fine art of foreshadowing.

1. I can’t be the only person who feels like he can’t breathe just looking at the sets in that movie.

2. The line “That was the dumbest car chase of all time” will never not be my favorite line of any movie.

3. Believe me, I hate thinking about movies. I only have so much Whiskey Time as it is, so all this thinking is a burden.

4. Also: Absolutely fabulous.

5. Benoit Blanc shouting “It’s just DUMB!” will never not be my favorite line of any movie.

6. Like The Rock and Chris Hemsworth, when I see Dave Bautista all I can think about is how many whole roasted chickens the man has to consume every hour to keep up his metabolism.

7. Or, if you’re like me, because you’re on your third cocktail and three cats are frooming their asses on your lap while you’re watching it. How did this become my life? Don’t answer that.

8. Just like me! <bursts into tears>.

9. Though, as usual, Hahn is excellent at doing nothing of importance.

10. If I had to solve a puzzle to go to a party I would absolutely be the guy who shows up with the entire, battered, unsolved box, which I would throw at the host with an expletive.

11. To be fair, the whole onscreen murder is presented as a sweaty-palm, sudden-inspiration mess, so the fact that it wouldn’t work kind of tracks.

12. Also, the sort of multi-million dollar budget kind of story I wish I could write. Can anyone loan me some money? Or, a lot of money?

13. Writing is beautiful, but it is also a game of suffering.

14. Again, in lesser hands this could just be bad writing. There are folks who argue it is bad writing, but for my money I think it works a charm.

15. Believe me, I am an expert in writing sad, confused messes <bursts into tears>

16. It’s harder to write a dummy than you might think. Being a dummy? I have proved it can be effortless. Shut up.