This big-name cast overacts its way through this lame excuse for a whodunit. You would think that this writer/director would have learned his lesson after The Last Jedi, but the identity politics are here, front and centre. The plot itself is not that great. The whole purpose of this genre is to keep the audience guessing until the denouement, but even half asleep I had figured out who the baddie was and had more or less unraveled the plot. Johnson is no David Mamet. This picture tries to capture the smartness of an Agatha Christie novel or play like The Mousetrap or The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side, with the upper crust players, the old house, a will reading and the cliched characters. Each of the suspects is from the imagination of someone obsessed with the 'basket of deplorables'. Every one of them has a flaw that makes them impossible to like, all are bigoted and avaricious when pushed out of their comfort zones. The main character, on the other hand, is so pretty and pure and perfect and kind. She's one big liberal stereotype, which is ironic, considering that the actress almost turned down the role because she felt it was too stereotypical. Daniel Craig just plods through the picture with a pretty poor southern drawl. I hope the film gods put an end to Rian Johnson's career sooner rather than later. How many disasters does it take before they wake up? Rant over.