Glass Onion

    Daniel Craig in “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery.” John Wilson/Netflix photo via IMDB

Times are lean for film reviewer swag.

Last year Hawaii Film Critic Society head Barry Wurst and I were comparing notes about all the big colorful boxes we were receiving from Netflix over the holidays. They contained not only screener DVDs but also giant, glossy-paged coffee table books, sweatshirts, bottles of wine and other knickknacks embossed with movie logos. Barry speculated that the lavish payola may have contributed to Netflix's studio fortunes, which were teetering on the brink at the time.

This year's freebies have been fewer and far between, perhaps stemming from revelations about the bestowers of the Golden Globes, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association,. Despite their impressive title, the association members – there were less than a hundred of them – turned out to be a bunch of freeloaders with cool accents.

Nonetheless, Netflix didn't entirely dispense with the colorful boxes this year. The best one was promoting “Glass Onion.” It bills itself not as a sequel but rather a franchise, “a Knives Out mystery,” alluding to the terrific success – and fun – of writer/director Rian Johnson's first whodunnit comedy featuring Daniel Craig as detective Benoit Blanc.

If you missed him the first time, the good inspector is sort of a cross between Columbo and Colonel Sanders. With an accent as Southern as a mint julep and a dandy, always color-coordinated wardrobe, Google calls Blanc the best detective in the world, but he gets lots of mileage out of playing a rube.

In the first “Knives Out,” the suspects were family members and in-laws of a murdered clan patriarch in a web of dysfunctional succession (is there any other kind?)

Keeping up with current targets for satire, writer-director Johnson this time zeroes in on Elon Musklike tech gazilionaire Miles Bron (Edward Norton). Miles invites all his BFFs – the ones who were there when he launched his empire – to a private tropical island he owns for a weekend of fun and games, including a dinner party whodunnit in which he's the (wink wink) murder victim.

Set in pandemic times, the guest list includes his entrepreneur buddies who have fared well in the hip influencer economy. Among them are ditzy model Birdy Jay (Kate Hudson), a woozy pre-Jennifer Coolidge caricature who made her fortune in sweatpants; and Duke Cody (Dave Bautista), kingpin of a macho misogynistic blog. Whiskey (Madelyn Cline) is the eye candy on his arm. Claire Debella (Kathryn Hahn) is progressive political candidate; Lionel Toussaint (Leslie Odom Jr.) is the wiz they refer tech questions to.

Andi Brand (Janelle Monåe) is the partner with whom he started the company, but whom he recently booted out without a dime. Why she got invited is one of those questions sparking internet chat groups wondering whether it's a clever plot device or a brain fart on the writer's part. There are several such, uh, lapses – mysteries within the mystery.

In fact, “solving” the case becomes tangential to figuring out what the case actually is. The fun comes from watching Daniel Craig chew the scenery doing his corn-pone version of Agatha Christie. For his five outings as 007 that established him among the great James Bonds of yore, he looks less worried and constipated now, and like he's having a helluva good time in the new franchise.

Johnson's script takes aim at all sorts of targets in our digital culture and economy. Chief among them is Norton's tech mogul caricature, although his self-important buffoonery pales in comparison to the recent obnoxious antics of the actual Elon Musk. What is it about him – or all the other space cadet and pretend president billionaires who play such outside roles in our world– that make their power seem so pathetic? 

Beats me.

Along with the sly Beatles references, there's a party-like dimension to the production. Hugh Grant makes a momentary but crucial appearance. Other celebs from Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to Yo Yo Ma show up in cameos. The writing is sly and sharp for the most part, as least up the climax which goes the crash-and-burn route, the direction of choice for recent satires targeting rich people.

Of course the best part of my own “Glass Onion” experience was all the goodies in the box from Netflix. They included a can of hard kombucha; a cocktail napkin that acquired meaning after I watched the film; and various items of clothing including a cool black baseball cap that says “A Rian Johnson Whodunnit.”

Having figured out at least one piece of the mystery before it was revealed onscreen, I figure I can wear the hat with impunity, proclaiming myself a freeloader perhaps, but like Benoit Blanc, nobody's fool.