Joe meticulously assembles an unassuming travel kit, including a hollowed-out book concealing a lethal wire, before arriving at his self-dubbed "Downton Abbey vampire castle." What truly jars in this scenario is the discrepancy between Joe's seemingly inconspicuous attire blending almost seamlessly into the setting, and the outlandish getups of the other attendees. Why are these ladies parading around in heels? Why is Phoebe engaging in a Cher Horowitz-inspired costume play? One would expect a consistent rich-folk ensemble—perhaps a Barbour jacket paired with riding boots—yet none of the affluent guests adhere to this standard. (Roald's quilted bomber jacket comes close, but still falls short.)
Gemma persists in showcasing a personality solely defined by offensive utterances, reminding me of a watered-down version of Kate Hudson's character from "Glass Onion." She exists merely as a potential suspect or future victim, contributing little to justify her screen presence. One wonders what compelling reason anyone could have for befriending her, or what dirt she might hold over them to maintain these connections. Clarity, please!
Within the estate's confines, Joe finds himself without Wi-Fi or cell service, frustration evident as he's cut off from his new pen pal and stressed by his proximity to Kate, a "distraction" he cannot afford. They exchange a brief conversation about refraining from intimacy in Joe's bed—a pledge I highly doubt will hold! Joe receives a note slipped under his door, inviting him to the Portrait Gallery. His paranoia over such messages is amusing, considering Phoebe and her cronies are merely indulging in "Clue"-inspired antics.
An eclectic scene unfolds in the Portrait Gallery, transformed by Phoebe into a Baz Luhrmann's "Romeo + Juliet"-inspired set. She attempts to seduce Joe, sensing his honesty or some such quality. He politely declines, prompting her to mope about not feeling like Adam's "everything." Joe assures her that Adam adores her. Later, Adam inexplicably seeks Joe's counsel on proposing to Phoebe. Why is Joe, of all people, the confidant for these individuals who claim to be each other's closest friends? Moreover, I struggle to muster even a modicum of interest in Adam and Phoebe's romantic journey! The sole redeeming aspect of this is Adam's assertion that he'll never want for money, reminding me of the iconic "I will not not be rich" line from "Big Little Lies." Joe discovers that Roald, surprisingly, was the impetus behind his invitation to this weekend's festivities.
Amidst those exchanges, the gang donned matching white attire for a game of croquet, with Joe being the sole exception unaware of the sartorial directive. Gemma ingenuity transformed one of the servants into a makeshift croquet hoop, an act that left Kate revolted yet oddly unbothered to the others. As Joe stumbled upon Kate reprimanding a security guard for pestering her, she hastily pursued him to his room, beseeching him to cease his surveillance. Kate's plea was as unrealistic as it was fervent. Subsequently, she sought an innocuous favor from Joe—untangling her necklaces, a moment fraught with subtle, Gossip Girl-worthy nape-of-the-neck intrigue, amplified by sensuous piano melodies and soft, ambiguous lighting. However, their fleeting emotional spark was a misplaced notion; restraint was their virtue, or so it seemed.
Elsewhere, Roald whisked Phoebe away for a pre-dinner dip, capitalizing on the opportunity for Joe to delve into Roald's personal space. Roald's travel companionship included an extensive watch collection, a peculiar habit that verged on quirky rather than criminal. Joe's exploration of Roald's camera roll unveiled a disturbing trove of upskirt photos of Kate. Joe, once a pilferer of lingerie from unwitting crushes, recognized this as a moral abyss too far even for his newly minted, virtuous self.
At breakfast, Kate's decision to sit beside Joe was deliberate and pointed, given the plethora of empty seats. Meanwhile, Gemma's relentless harassment of the staff stood in stark contrast to Phoebe's supposed benevolent nature as the host. Didn't Phoebe, the girl with a heart of gold, wield the authority to halt Gemma's mistreatment of her employees? Wasn't she the one who embraced Vic as family? A semblance of character consistency would have greatly enriched this narrative! Kate confided in Joe her deep-seated disdain for Gemma. Roald, noting with consternation the budding closeness between Kate and Joe, particularly her rejection of his tennis invitation, eagerly seized the chance for a hunting expedition with Joe. Together, they ventured into the woods, rifles in hand, targeting former captives now freed to soar.
During this sojourn, Roald revealed to Joe their shared past at a Rhode Island boarding school, where Kate had been sent due to her mother's suicidal tendencies. Roald had always been Kate's protector and vowed to remain so. He lambasted Malcolm as a taker, a liar, and a joke, while dismissing Simon as a black hole. Joe internally observed Roald as a seething cauldron of rage. When Roald aimed his rifle at Joe, tension reached a crescendo, only for Kate to intervene before any fatality could unfold.
She brands Roald a bully, her voice tinged with accusation, while he retaliates by hinting at her fascination with "lost little boys," a phrase laced with sarcasm. Roald harbors the belief that he and Kate stand as equals, destined to be an inseparable duo, akin to a high school quarterback and his cheerleader captain, a delusion quite comical considering their presumed age of thirty. Kate, however,拒絕 to indulge in such a cliché fantasy, insistent on their fundamental differences. Could it be that Kate's disdain runs so deep that she eliminated those clowns? Her aversion to nearly everyone around her seems almost pathological.
It's time for another wardrobe transformation, leaving one to wonder: How did Joe manage to pack such an outfit, or did Phoebe thoughtfully equip him with a suit? Inevitably, Joe struggles with cuff links, a task that brings him and Kate perilously close, their bodies almost touching as he intently ponders the curve of her earlobes. This time, their self-imposed restraint borders on the absurd, as the only thing preventing them from locking lips is sheer willpower. And oh, Joe's curly hair—a touch of perfection amidst the chaos!
Dinner conversation flows easily, a gentle breeze of levity as Roald, curious, inquires if Joe, the embodiment of normality, harbors resentment towards the wealthy. Joe's audacity shines through as he declares contentment with his lot in life, only for Gemma to interject, playfully accusing Joe/Jonathan of being the killer, noting the coincidence of deaths commencing upon his arrival. Admittedly, my criticism of her has been harsh, but her jest about Joe possessing a "bargain-bin Colin Firth vibe" is undeniably amusing. Alas, the humor is abruptly cut short when Phoebe stages a mock death in the arms of her beleaguered staff, her announcement signaling the commencement of a murder-mystery party—a Hampsie house tradition that, given the circumstances, seems highly inappropriate. Joe's disbelief mirrors my own; the sincerity behind this spectacle is astonishing.
Despite Joe's intention to sneak into Roald's room, fate intervenes in the form of Kate, who unburdens herself, confessing that her father, Tom Lockwood (a name that rings false as a bell), is the ultimate villain. A corporate predator who aids CEOs in erasing sexual assault allegations and condones the contamination of children's drinking water with cancer-causing agents, Tom Lockwood is Kate's nemesis. Yet, as his favorite daughter, their estrangement has done little to deter him from sending security against her wishes, to guard her at this very house. "A killer provides the perfect pretext for him to shield me—to reinsert himself into my life," she muses, a scenario eerily familiar.
"My tale pales in comparison to yours," remarks the man who, to escape a dreary marriage, committed matricide, feigned his own demise, and utterly deserted his flesh and blood in Madre Linda. Joe clings to the belief that we can mold ourselves into anyone we desire. Indeed, one might easily think so now, wouldn't they? Joe silently cautions himself against succumbing to love.
Meanwhile, Phoebe catches Adam flirting brazenly with one of her employees, even as Roald stumbles upon Joe once again rummaging through his belongings. Roald, accusing Joe outright of murder, hurls him out of a window in a fit of rage. Joe miraculously lands in a bush, unscathed. Clearly, Roald's intent was not to end Joe's life; how Joe could have possibly thought he could get away with such audacious snooping, one can only wonder. His vigilance is slipping.
Joe's ears catch what he believes to be an authentic scream, propelling him back into the house with the fervor of a lunatic, shouting Kate's name repeatedly. He discovers her standing over Gemma's lifeless body, a knife clutched in her hand, her demeanor one of profound despondency. Perhaps this is the moment that will finally unlock her tears?
