While not released annually, audiences seem to anticipate each installment of Rian Johnson’s , which debuted in 2019. That initial film introduced Daniel Craig’s Benoit Blanc, a detective whose refined manners and Louisiana accent are as smooth as churned butter; in that story, his task was to unravel the mystery of a bestselling crime novelist’s unexpected death. , released by Netflix in 2022, was somewhat less satisfying, though its Greek island setting permitted a sort of voyeuristic extravagance—and also created an ideal backdrop for characters portrayed by the likes of Janelle Monae and Kate Hudson to drift about in flowing-chic ensembles.

Now, the powers that be have granted us , also written and directed by Johnson, wherein Josh O’Connor portrays a spirited yet devoted priest who, after losing his patience with an arrogant deacon, is reassigned to a new parish in a serene, pastoral upstate New York setting. Unfortunately, this small, close-knit congregation happens to be dominated by a megalomaniacal monsignor, Josh Brolin’s Jefferson Wicks. Wicks is a fire-and-brimstone hothead with an ironclad hold on his followers, who include a kooky sci-fi writer (), a loyal longtime servant and family friend willing to do anything to safeguard her employer (), and an intelligent, ambitious lawyer who nonetheless appears to have fallen under Wick’s controlling sway (). Wicks winds up deceased, stabbed in the back with a menacing-looking thingamabob. Who in heaven’s name could have committed such an act? The newcomer, O’Connor’s Father Jud Duplenticy, a former boxer who openly confesses to once having killed a man in a fit of pure rage, is regarded with suspicion.

The narrative of Wake Up Dead Man is fatally convoluted, and the tale concludes in a haze of exposition that’s not especially ingenious. Furthermore, the cast of performers here is extensive: it also includes as a cellist whose career has been thwarted by a chronic nerve condition, as a not-terribly-successful doctor longing for the wife who has just left him, and the church’s longtime groundskeeper (Thomas Haden Church), who appears more disengaged than devout. With so many performers circulating, not everyone receives sufficient material to work with.

Yet as with the prior two Knives Out entries, the ending is almost irrelevant. It’s the journey that counts, and the winding path of Wake Up Dead Man is sprinkled with casual jokes and quips that are occasionally exceptionally clever. The performers’ timing is crucial. At one juncture Father Jud and Monsignor Wick discover themselves tidying up the mausoleum of Wick’s grandfather; it has been decorated with phallic graffiti by local mischief-makers, who aren’t especially pleased with the younger Wick’s preaching style. Close’s prim Wick family adherent Martha drops by to voice her objection. Observing this vulgar collection of penises Sharpie’d on marble, she stammers, “It makes me sick, these kids putting rocket ships all over his sacred resting place!”

But is the primary reason to watch Wake Up Dead Man. Craig’s Blanc, with his Foghorn-Leghorn accent, emerges at pivotal moments to elaborate on his theories regarding who’s behind this latest homicide—he labels it an “impossible crime,” and for a time, it baffles him. Yet O’Connor quietly commandeers the spotlight nonetheless. His Father Jud possesses sufficient complexity to make one speculate whether perhaps he did slay the thoroughly unpleasant Wick. We catch sight of a neck tattoo visible beneath his clerical collar, offering a clue to his bad-boy history. When he settles in to hear Wick’s regular confession (it’s primarily a tally of how many times Wick has masturbated in the previous week or two), he flushes and falters just enough to make one question if he isn’t actually just a repressed nutcase himself. But in other instances, he’s positively angelic: as part of the murder inquiry, he finds himself chatting with a local contractor, delivering compassionate counsel as she unburdens a painful account of her strained relationship with her dying mother. Time and again, despite his volatile history, Father Jud exudes the sort of radiant grace that convinces you divine forgiveness is attainable.

He also lands the film’s finest lines, and delivers them deliciously. When Blanc examines a list of the murder mysteries Wick’s adherents have been perusing in the church book club—it includes Edgar Allan Poe’s The Murders in the Rue Morgue and Agatha Christie’s The Murder at the Vicarage—he demands to know who selected such inflammatory material. Father Jud is prepared with the response. “Oprah,” he declares, his countenance glowing with angelic innocence. It’s a silly joke, but O’Connor renders it laugh-out-loud hilarious. In a film that’s in most respects simply more Knives Out business as usual, he’s a miracle worker.