In an era where streaming giants are churning out content faster than a priest absolving sins on a busy Sunday, Netflix has just dropped a bombshell that could redefine the detective genre for years to come. “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery,” the third installment in Rian Johnson’s wildly inventive whodunit franchise, isn’t just another entry—it’s a seismic event. Premiering in select theaters today and hitting Netflix screens on December 12, this film clocks in at a taut 128 minutes, but early screenings and advance viewer reactions suggest it’s packing the punch of a full season’s worth of binge-worthy drama. Fans are already losing their minds, flooding social media with proclamations that it’s “bigger than Sherlock, darker than True Detective, and more addictive than Luther.” If the first act—unleashed in a jaw-dropping trailer that’s racked up over 50 million views in 48 hours—is any indication, Netflix has ignited its next global obsession.

Picture this: A sleepy upstate New York parish, shrouded in autumn fog, where the chime of church bells masks whispers of scandal and secrets buried deeper than ancient relics. Enter Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), the impeccably tailored Southern sleuth with a drawl as smooth as bourbon and a mind sharper than a switchblade. This time, Blanc isn’t unraveling the antics of eccentric billionaires or tech moguls gone rogue. No, “Wake Up Dead Man” plunges him into the heart of faith, hypocrisy, and human frailty—a small-town church with a “dark history,” as the official synopsis teases. When a shocking, seemingly impossible murder rocks the congregation during a midnight vigil, the lines between divine justice and mortal vengeance blur into a nightmare of suspicion and betrayal.

The trailer’s opening salvo is pure cinematic adrenaline: A confessional booth, dimly lit by flickering candlelight, where the charismatic Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin) confronts a shadowy figure. “Your sins are heavier than you know, Father,” he intones, his voice a velvet-wrapped thunderclap. Cut to chaos—a body slumps lifeless in the pews, blood pooling like spilled sacramental wine, witnessed by a dozen frozen parishioners. Local police chief Geraldine Scott (Mila Kunis), all steely-eyed pragmatism, storms in: “This isn’t some locked-room parlor game. This is real, and it’s ugly.” But when her investigation stalls against the wall of alibis and holy vows, she calls in the big guns: Blanc, who arrives like a storm cloud in a cream linen suit, quipping, “Darlin’, murder in a house of God? That’s not just impossible—it’s downright poetic.”

What elevates “Wake Up Dead Man” from franchise filler to potential masterpiece is its unapologetic fusion of Johnson’s signature wit with a brooding, almost gothic undercurrent. Gone are the sun-drenched estates of “Knives Out” or the garish opulence of “Glass Onion.” This is a film that feels intimate yet epic, like peering into the soul of a community on the brink of collapse. Early viewers from the Toronto International Film Festival world premiere last month emerged shell-shocked, one anonymous attendee tweeting, “That first ‘episode’ (trailer?) ends on a cliffhanger that had me pacing my hotel room at 2 AM. Netflix, you monsters—this is next-level television disguised as a movie!” The frenzy has only intensified since the full trailer dropped on November 15, spawning fan theories faster than a viral TikTok challenge. Is the killer a vengeful ghost from the church’s Prohibition-era past? Or something far more profane, hidden in plain sight among the flock?

At the epicenter of this maelstrom is the holy trinity of leads: Daniel Craig, Josh O’Connor, and Glenn Close. Craig’s Blanc has evolved from the franchise’s charming eccentric into a man haunted by his own unspoken demons, his eyes carrying the weight of cases that linger like ghosts. “This one’s personal,” Craig told Variety at TIFF, his voice dropping to that gravelly timbre that still sends shivers down spines from his Bond days. “Benoit’s always been the outsider peering in, but here, faith and doubt collide in ways that mirror his own cracks. It’s gritty, it’s raw—I’m back to my crime roots, but with Johnson’s twist, it’s unlike anything I’ve done.” Viewers are eating it up, with one Reddit thread amassing 15,000 upvotes declaring, “Craig’s Blanc is Sherlock if he traded Baker Street for Bourbon Street and traded violin for voodoo. Better than ever.”

Then there’s Josh O’Connor, the 35-year-old British phenom who’s been quietly building a resume that screams “future legend.” Fresh off his tennis-sweaty intensity in “Challengers” and the crown-topped gravitas of “The Crown,” O’Connor steps into the role of Father Jud Duplenticy—a former boxer turned reluctant priest—with a haunting vulnerability that steals every frame he’s in. Jud arrives at St. Agnes Parish as the wide-eyed assistant to the domineering Monsignor Wicks, his knuckles scarred from ring fights and his soul still raw from a crisis of faith that drove him to the cloth. “He’s not your typical holy man,” O’Connor explained in a Netflix Tudum interview. “Jud’s got this pent-up rage, this physicality that clashes with the serenity he’s supposed to embody. Playing him felt like wrestling my own shadows—exhilarating and exhausting.”

In the trailer, O’Connor’s Jud is the immediate suspect: sweat beading on his brow as Chief Scott slams her fist on the interrogation table. “You’re the only one who hated his guts enough to end him!” she snarls. Jud’s response—a whispered “Amen” that could double as a confession—has fans dissecting his every micro-expression. “O’Connor’s performance is career-defining,” gushed a critic from The Hollywood Reporter post-premiere. “He’s Blanc’s reluctant Watson, but with a darkness that makes you question if he’s the hero or the heretic. This kid’s haunting me already.” Online, the meltdown is palpable: #JudGuiltyOrInnocent is trending worldwide, with edits splicing O’Connor’s scenes from “God’s Own Country” to suggest a backstory of repressed fury. One viral post reads, “Josh O’Connor as a priest? That’s not acting—that’s arson. This series (film? Whatever) is my new religion.”

But if Craig and O’Connor are the moral compass and the ticking bomb, Glenn Close is the venomous serpent coiled in the garden. At 78, the eight-time Oscar nominee—last seen chewing scenery in “The Chair” and voicing the unhinged mother in “Hillbilly Elegy”—delivers what early buzz calls her most deliciously villainous turn since “Fatal Attraction.” As Martha Delacroix, the devout church lady who’s equal parts doting matron and shadowy puppeteer, Close embodies the film’s theme of piety as a perfect mask for perfidy. “Martha’s the kind of woman who bakes pies laced with arsenic and calls it communion,” Johnson quipped during a BFI London Film Festival Q&A. Close herself leaned into the role with glee: “Villains are my catnip, but this one’s got layers—grief, ambition, a twist that’ll make you gasp. Working with Daniel and Josh was like sparring with titans; their energy pulled something feral out of me.”

The trailer’s money shot? A candlelit dinner in the rectory where Martha, eyes gleaming like polished obsidian, toasts the group: “To absolution… for those who deserve it.” The camera lingers on her grip tightening around a rosary, beads clicking like a countdown to doom. Fans are already crowning her the “Queen of Suspects,” with memes pitting her against Judi Dench’s M from Bond (“Close would eat her alive—and pray over the bones”). One TIFF reviewer tweeted, “Glenn Close’s villainous twist in Ep 1? Nobody saw it coming. It’s not just a red herring; it’s a shark in the holy water. Meltdown achieved.” The trio’s chemistry is electric—Craig’s wry banter bouncing off O’Connor’s brooding intensity, while Close’s icy poise threatens to shatter the screen. “Their scenes together are ferocious,” notes a Variety insider. “It’s like watching a theological cage match, with laughs and gut-punches in equal measure.”

Of course, no Knives Out mystery would be complete without an ensemble that could populate a small town of red herrings. Josh Brolin’s Monsignor Wicks is a fire-and-brimstone patriarch whose sermons drip with charisma and concealed contempt—a role that lets the “Dune” star flex his dramatic muscles before his untimely (and spectacular) exit in the opening act. Mila Kunis brings her signature blend of sarcasm and steel as Chief Scott, the no-nonsense law enforcer who’s out of her depth in this web of ecclesiastical intrigue. “Geraldine’s the audience surrogate,” Kunis shared on “The Tonight Show.” “She’s tough, but Blanc’s fancy footwork has her questioning everything. And that cliffhanger? I ugly-cried in the dailies.”

Rounding out the flock are Kerry Washington as the tightly wound lawyer Vera Draven, whose courtroom savvy hides a personal vendetta; Jeremy Renner as the affable town doctor Nat Sharp, nursing secrets darker than his bedside manner; Andrew Scott as the reclusive bestselling author Lee Ross, whose gothic novels eerily mirror the unfolding horror; Cailee Spaeny as the ethereal cellist Simone Vivane, whose melodies conceal a siren’s call to chaos; Daryl McCormack as ambitious politico Cy Draven, Vera’s scheming son; and Thomas Haden Church as the laconic groundskeeper Samson Holt, who knows where all the bodies (literal and figurative) are buried. Each performance is a masterclass in subversion—pious smiles cracking to reveal grudges, whispers escalating to roars. “Johnson’s cast is a pressure cooker,” raves a Deadline review. “Every glance, every pause, screams ‘motive.’ It’s addictive.”

Director Rian Johnson, the alchemist behind the franchise’s $600 million-plus box office haul, has outdone himself. “Wake Up Dead Man” marks a tonal shift: Less screwball comedy, more psychological thriller, with nods to Agatha Christie crossed with “The Exorcist.” Shot on location in chilly upstate New York—Hudson Valley hamlets standing in for the fictional St. Agnes— the film bathes its proceedings in a palette of muted grays and crimson accents, evoking “Se7en” if directed by Wes Anderson on a bender. Johnson’s script is a labyrinth of misdirection: The first act introduces the suspects in a whirlwind dinner party, echoing Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express” but laced with modern barbs on religion, power, and redemption. “I wanted Blanc’s most dangerous case to feel intimate,” Johnson said at TIFF. “This isn’t about wealth; it’s about the soul. And trust me, that opening murder? It’s impossible, audacious, and sets off twists that’ll have you rewinding.”

That cliffhanger—spoiler-free, but imagine a revelation that flips the script on guilt and innocence—has sparked a theory tsunami. Forums like Reddit’s r/KnivesOut buzz with speculation: Is Martha’s “devout” facade a cover for embezzlement from the church coffers? Does Jud’s boxing past tie into a cover-up of Wicks’ abuses? Or is Blanc himself implicated, his “personal journey” hinting at a faith-shattering secret? One popular thread posits a conspiracy involving the parish’s Prohibition-era bootlegging ghosts, tying into Holt’s cryptic line: “These walls have seen more blood than wine.” X (formerly Twitter) is ablaze, with #WakeUpDeadManTheories garnering 2 million impressions. “Episode 1 ends with a bang that makes Luther’s finale look tame,” one user posted. “Darker than True Detective S1, and twice as twisty.”

Comparisons to “Sherlock” aren’t hyperbole. Where Cumberbatch’s Holmes dazzled with cerebral fireworks, Blanc’s blend of folksy intuition and ruthless deduction feels earthier, more empathetic—yet no less brilliant. “This is Sherlock in a confessional,” a BBC reviewer quipped post-London premiere. “Bigger stakes, blacker humor, and a heart that bleeds.” Against “True Detective,” it trades cosmic dread for communal rot, but amps the addiction factor with Johnson’s pacing: Snappy dialogue snaps like rosary beads, while suspense simmers like incense smoke. And “Luther”? Forget brooding loners; this is ensemble unease, where every character’s unraveling tugs the whole tapestry.

The cultural ripple is immediate. With Netflix’s global reach, “Wake Up Dead Man” is poised to dominate holiday viewing, spawning podcasts, fan art, and even theological debates (one Vatican-adjacent scholar called it “a mirror to modern ecclesial scandals”). Merch drops include Blanc’s signature cardigans and Jud’s scarred boxing gloves, while a companion doc on upstate ghost towns hits Netflix next month. Critics are unanimous: THR’s David Rooney awarded four stars, praising O’Connor as “a former boxer turned priest who becomes both a murder suspect and a Watson to Benoit Blanc’s Sherlock Holmes,” adding considerable depth to the whodunit formula. IndieWire calls it “Johnson’s darkest donut yet—the hole is faith, and it’s deliciously empty.”

As the premiere date looms, one thing’s clear: Netflix didn’t just release a film; they unleashed a phenomenon. “Wake Up Dead Man” isn’t content to thrill— it provokes, provokes laughter in the face of fear, and leaves you questioning your own confessions. In a world starved for stories that stick, this is the antidote: Addictive, audacious, and absolutely unmissable. Stream it, obsess over it, and join the meltdown. Your faith in bingeing will be forever renewed.