I have a confession to make: I am not the biggest fan of the whodunit. While as a writer I adore deconstructing a narrative to understand its components on a deeper level, there is something that I find tedious about seeing it in a textual way. Even the best feel designed to create an interactive experience with the audience, forcing them to engage with the substance in such a way that it derails from enjoyment. It’s similar to how I feel about true crime, where there comes a point where we’re so deep in detail that the minutiae stops being interesting. I am not someone who watches a story and wants dozens of loose threads to connect, at least not as the main drive.
It is with utmost certainty that this explains why I wasn’t as enamored with Knives Out (2019) as most despite thinking that it was a very clever script full of brilliant small moments. I am captivated more by performances, wanting to spend time with the paranoid figures who will either be wrongfully accused or are hiding in plain sight. I get the appeal of that, but in a world where people make careers out of spotting plot holes in movies, I am a bit dissuaded from this because cinema by nature is a visceral experience, and I’m often more attracted to the broader scope of ideas being expressed than being forced to hear someone say “See, that over there… that’s a clue! It will come in handy later!”
I am sure that this makes me seem like a dimwit or someone who isn’t capable of deeper interaction, but it has been my greatest issue with the mystery genre. This isn’t to say that I don’t love a good story. After all, I’ve recently talked about how great Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965) and Gilda (1946) are, and what are those but mysteries? I guess it’s just about how they’re approached, and how deep you’re willing to dive. I’m more driven to insular struggles than societal ones, which often seem to be the case with Agatha Christie titles. To me, they’re all a bit too impersonal.
Which makes Clue (1985) an interesting case study. In his review at the time, Roger Ebert mentioned how the film suffered from its lack of great clues. This was of course because of the infamous three endings that were released to theaters, meaning that you would have to pay triple to get the full experience, planning with newspapers to get the ‘A’,’B’, and ‘C’ versions at different theaters. I can imagine for those who love the film, it’s a fun game. For everyone else, it takes away something. Still, how can a film without one definitive ending ever hope to provide a narrative structure so sound that you pick up on background details? You can’t say “Aha!” because there is no right answer.
I am by no means an expert on the modern genre of movies based off of games. Sure, we can argue that Toy Story (1995) as a franchise did this the most blatantly, but I look at Battleship (2012) or Angry Birds: The Movie (2016) and I find myself unwilling to give them a shot. After all, are we working our way to a Yahtzee movie? Even if they’re arguably good, it feels like one of those intellectually bankrupt ideas that will end in one epic Let’s Play movie of celebrities playing Fortnite. What is the bigger point in making Hasbro and LEGO into big budgeted entertainment?
Somehow I don’t feel the same way about Clue, which is also a game that I shamefully admit that I never played. I get the gist of it, like how you deduct your suspects by knocking a peg down. I am familiar with how to play, but I guess at its core it is one of those games that could be adapted into a film and actually work. I’m even thrilled by the idea that it embraced the goofball nature of the game by having multiple endings. There is no certainty in the game, so why should there be any in the movie?
I guess in the form of a broad slapstick comedy that this all works perfectly. Everyone gathers at a hotel on a dark and stormy night. A murder goes down for a character named “Boddy,” and a series of obstacles begin to arise. There’s a ticking clock scenario, and suddenly panic is in the air, doing everything to figure out just what’s going on before the cops come and set the next phase into motion. There is a manic energy to this (perfectly scored by the reliable John Morris) that you’d mistake it for a Benny Hill gag. It’s so wonderfully absurd that it’s as much a film about accusations as it is getting through the night.
It’s a haunted house movie where the people involved are the ghosts, who have this capability to murder anyone else in the room at the drop of a hat. Everyone is an archetype to an unbelievable degree, playing into the aesthetic of the game. This feels designed for families, as it should be. The mystery isn’t so much the case as it is lampooning the genre in such a way that you’re entertained for 90 minutes, wondering what happens next.
If I’m being honest, I think that one of the greatest aspects of the film is that it has an impressive cast. For a film that by nature feels like it should be disposable nonsense, its ability to draw some of the best comedic minds of the moment only makes their ability to riff and have fun work better. This is a spontaneous journey into screwball and dark humor, colliding in self-aware ways reminiscent of Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948).
Among the central cast is: Eileen Brennan, Tim Curry, Madeline Kahn, Christopher Lloyd, Michael McKean, Martin Mull, Lesley Ann Warren, and Colleen Camp.
The fact that the murder victim, Mr. Boddy, is played by an actor whose name is Lee Ving feels like this great in-joke that you’ll only get after reading the cast list. Having the victim be a “Dead Boddy” is already funny, but in this context it’s a great joke for the ride home.
As someone who really likes most of these performers, I was intrigued and even curious why it took me this long to get around to the film. It feels like one that would’ve been central to my youth had I the foresight to appreciate a film that combined the sidekicks of Laverne & Shirley, Taxi, and the hooker from Blazing Saddles (1974). But we all can’t be so fortunate to witness the “Singing Telegram” with fresh eyes, not aware of what quick editing can achieve, turning a morbid joke into a crucial detail. There’s a lot of cadaver humor here, and I’m sure it seems off-putting for a film this wacky, but I guarantee that it mostly works.
I suppose that if there’s one MVP for this film (though how can you discredit the others?), it has to be Tim Curry’s Wadsworth. As the butler to Mr. Boddy, he has the most to lose by murdering his former boss and spends the whole film in a bit of a manic state, not sure how to take his newfound freedom when it threatens to put him jail. After all, there is that old trope that the butler did it. There has to be something that Wadsworth gets out of this perverse transaction.
He is manic yet refined, and becomes more interesting as the story progresses. While everyone gets their own recurring gag (Mull’s Colonel Mustard has chandeliers breaking behind him), there isn’t one that is as delightful as watching Curry unleashing his own theories on what happened by having everyone chase him around the mansion. He is a one-man show, describing every action by running around tables and playing every character with such an energy that you’d think he’d pass out. Curry was always known for these eccentric roles, and his ability to feel like he’s on fast forward is amazing.
At the end of the day, these are mostly excuses to do gags. As the stakes keep piling up, everyone has to find a way to act normal. Of course, that makes everything even worse. I think what makes Clue so effective is that it is more about the moment than a bigger arc. Somebody dies, and it’s more about the egos of everyone trying to not make themselves look guilty. I’m sure that those with a more inquisitive mind will be able to point out the issues with this film, that the comedy is dissonant to its subject. But for me, it’s an excuse to watch comedians have fun, servicing as a series of gags that shouldn’t be taken seriously.
If this was what the future of movies based on toy lines was going to be, then I would be all for it. This is an adaptation that uses its premise in such a way that it captures the absurdity without seeming foolish. Its ability to have three endings already shows a malleability that few other properties could have. Clue needs to be expansive, have multiple potential endings. That’s how the game is played. While some could argue that some results are better than others, it captures the atmosphere of the game perfectly.
But I don’t know that we can expect that Yahtzee or Don’t Wake Daddy will produce as satisfying results. I’m sure that I can be proven wrong, but it doesn’t seem likely. The key to Clue was that it was already a murder mystery. All you had to do was create a wacky premise that allowed for these wild obstacles, which was made easier when you had a cast this game to go for a wild good time.
Sometimes that’s all you need. People enjoy the chase of a murder mystery, where every detail has some satisfying symbolism. I have been known to enjoy those films, though the genre as a whole feels too tedious for me to appreciate on more than a surface level. Just tell me who did it and I’ll accept the results. You can tell me why they’re wrong later, but for now I’m all about the good time, the atmosphere, and tone.
That is why I enjoyed Clue so much. It has the ability to make any depth be more about a clever joke (“Communism was a red herring”), making you engage as this piece of entertainment. Sure it doesn’t have the most satisfying whodunit story. Knives Out may even have it beat just for quality jokes. But there is something special about a movie that just seeks out to have a good time, not allowing gags such as simple as slamming the door in someone’s face go unnoticed. The pacing is perfect for a 90-minute romp, and it works as a primer for the more serious genre it spoofs.
I honestly don’t care who did it in Clue. To me, it almost doesn’t matter. I prefer to listen to Christopher Lloyd comment on the absurdity around him. I prefer the three endings and wonder what it would be like to not know that the other two exist. This is so much fun as a piece of entertainment that I feel foolish for taking so long to get around to it. It’s quick and to the point, and if you need a good laugh right now, then it’s definitely worth your time.
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