The Emperor Has No Brain: Glass Onion Takes Shots at the Likes of Elon Musk, “Ye” and Even George W. Bush

Although it’s only been three years since the release of Rian Johnson’s Knives Out, it feels like almost an entire lifetime has passed since that pre-pandemic, pre-Capitol riot era. And yes, in the scant temporal space since 2019, there’s no denying that more contempt for the rich and capitalism itself has arisen. Even if it means still going along with adhering to the system thanks to the wonders of apathetic resignation after coming to terms with the mantra, “No money, no power.”

Indeed, Miles Bron (Edward Norton), the billionaire at the center of Johnson’s latest Knives Out installment, Glass Onion, is the one to note to Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), “Nobody wants you to break the system itself.” Even when it causes increasing discrepancies in the quality of living for two sects of humanity: the haves and the have-nots. Of course, Miles, being an Elon Musk type, doesn’t see himself as a billionaire, so much as a “disruptor.” Along with the rag-tag gang he’s been aligned with from the beginning of his ascent: Claire Debella (Kathryn Hahn), Lionel Toussaint (Leslie Odom Jr.), Birdie Jay (Kate Hudson) and Duke Cody (Dave Bautista).

The true founder of the tech company cash cow that is Alpha and the erstwhile most central person to that group, however, is Andi Brand (Janelle Monáe). Although Miles sends an invitation to her every year for the lavish group reunions/getaways he likes to host, she hasn’t ever put in an appearance since Miles stabbed her in the back by cutting her out of the company when she didn’t consent to going forward with putting out a hydrogen-based “alternative fuel” called Klear. Johnson’s decision to set the movie at the height of COVID-19’s lockdown period (specifically commencing the film with the date, May 13, 2020), in addition to speaking to society’s obsession with “recent retromania,” is also a deliberate dig at the one-percent/celebrity set who flagrantly flouted the so-called rules that all the plebes had to adhere to. Including not engaging in large gatherings.

But for people like Miles and his friends, there’s no risk of contagion if they gather together on a private island and, oh yeah, get spray-gunned in the mouth with an ostensible vaccine that no one else has access to. A plot point that feels like decided shade at that time Kim Kardashian took her own entire family/friend group to a private island during a continued peak of the pandemic for her birthday and posted a slew of photos with the caption, “After two weeks of multiple health screens and asking everyone to quarantine, I surprised my closest inner circle with a trip to a private island where we could pretend things were normal just for a brief moment in time.” The reaction she received to such a “humblebrag” was, expectedly, not one of “good for you”-esque joy. Peaches Christ, for instance, replied, “This is your idea of normal? Gross.”

Most would tend to agree. And, if any of the “commoners” in Movieland found out about what Miles and company were doing/where they were, the same backlash would likely ensue. Luckily, Miles has all the means and resources to keep his whereabouts as privileged information. Plus, in true “eccentric billionaire” fashion, he doesn’t use privacy-shattering smartphones, just fax machines. Making the temptation to post/be tracked much less likely. As for his coterie of loyal lackeys, Birdie Jay has recently hit the jackpot with a line of sweatpants (called Sweetie Pants) just in time for the pandemic; Claire, the governor of Connecticut, is campaigning to run for Senate; Lionel, Miles’ “back pocket scientist,” has to make the hard decision about enabling Miles with the premature rollout of Klear, despite it not being tested thoroughly enough to understand the risks of releasing it; Duke is a “men’s rights” (the most oxymoronic words ever) activist with a following of millions on Twitch.

Along for the privileged ride are Birdie’s assistant, Peg (Jessica Henwick), and Duke’s Taurus girlfriend, Whiskey (Madelyn Cline—a real Amber Heard circa the 00s type). And then there’s the unexplained presence of a deadbeat stoner named Derol (Noah Segan, who also appeared in Knives Out as Trooper Wagner), seemingly “part of” the island thanks to Miles permitting him to be there. The rest of the staff, however, has been exiled so that it can be just this exclusive “pod” of people. And so that Miles can maximize the intensity of the faux murder mystery he’s crafted for everyone to solve. One that centers on his “death” and finding out who the culprit is. Basically, a more interactive version of Clue (a board game, incidentally, that Benoit can’t stand due to its puerility).  

The presence of Benoit Blanc, everyone assumes, is all part of Miles’ master plan in terms of this fake little game. Rich people assuming everything they do is “just a game,” as opposed to tampering with real lives. Not unlike Elon Musk when he took over Twitter and not only laid off half of its employees, but also sent many Twitter users running for the hills because of his own “free speech” politics that he wanted to bring to the platform. This included allowing “Ye” a.k.a. Kanye West to return to Twitter after his account was suspended in the wake of a series of antisemitic comments. Antisemitism being Ye’s “philosophy” of 2022. Which is why, apparently, upon returning to Twitter again, he doubled down on his Jew-hating stance by posting an image of a Star of David combining with a swastika.

Quite frankly, it smacks of Birdie Jay’s own “brand” of controversy-stoking, which is to say, getting a rise out of people for the sake of being talked about. Ergo, dressing as Beyoncé for Halloween (one imagines that would include Blackface) or telling Oprah that the person she most identifies with is Harriet Tubman. The bottom line being, when one possesses the perilous combination of a large ego and bank account (both of which feed the other), there is no longer any grip on what the majority (read: broke asses) would call reality.  

Nonetheless, people like Miles find a way to complain despite “having it all” (except the soul they sold). So it is that he laments to Benoit of his “lonely life,” “It’s all just fake smiles and agendas and people wanting what they think they’re owed. Hating you when you don’t give it to them because that’s what you’re there for.” He then adds, “I know it’s probably hard to have sympathy for the poor tortured billionaire.” Yes, that is correct. Especially when the “poor tortured billionaire” is actually really stupid. A quality we’re still conditioned to believe goes against the very “requirements” of being rich when, in fact, the number one prerequisite (apart from being born rich already) for “securing the bag” is being, well, not very bright.

This comes across repeatedly in Miles’ expression of interests and manner of speaking. Eventually called out by Benoit as a bona fide “idiot,” the key to the case, Benoit unearths, is not complexity, but “mind-numbing, obvious clarity.” Which is a huge disappointment to Benoit, who was hoping to exercise his brain during the equally mind-numbing lockdown period (you know, apart from just Zoom calls with Stephen Sondheim, Angela Lansbury, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Natasha Lyonne). Thus his palpable frustration when he almost full-on castigates Miles for being so dumb with the speech, “I expected complexity. I expected intelligence. A puzzle, a game. But that’s not what any of this is… Truth is, it doesn’t hide at all… I realized what had teased my brain through this entire case: ‘inbreathiate.’ It’s not a word. It’s not a real word. It kind of sounds like one, but it’s just entirely made up.” And since those who are poorer than the rich man never dare question their “genius” with regard to something that makes them do a double take (visually or auditorily), Benoit then proceeds to take us back to all the times Miles offered nothing but malapropisms and misinformation. The two Ms of rich boy existence that George W. Bush made an entire political career out of (e.g., “Bushisms” like, “strategery,” “misunderestimate” and “resignate”).

Miles is right there with Bush as Benoit recalls another word from before: “‘Reclamation.’ That is a word, but it’s the wrong word. This entire day, a veritable minefield of malapropisms and factual errors.” That last comment pertaining to Miles saying they can swim in the Ionian Sea, even though the island is in the Aegean. Isn’t that something the owner of the island ought to be aware of? Of course not. Why bother knowing anything or being educated beyond a surface level when money—not the mind—accomplishes everything you need done for you. Benoit continues, “His dock doesn’t float, his ‘wonder fuel’ is a disaster, his grasp of disruption theory is remedial at best.”

The affronting obviousness of everything is established from the outset in many ways. From the mockery that Duke’s mother, “Ma” (Jackie Hoffman), makes of the puzzle invitation to arriving at the island to find that Miles has paid homage to the bar (called, what else, Glass Onion) they all once hung out at when they were nobodies by turning the entire structure into a literal glass onion. Hence, another obvious observation: “It’s like an actual huge glass onion.” Even Miles’ minions can’t seem to fully process how grotesque it is in its on-the-nose nature.

An onion as a metaphor is obvious itself, with the theoretical “layers” Benoit wants to enjoy during a case being stripped away to a straightforward core when he realizes just how basic Miles really is. This extends even to his philistine love of Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa,” flexing to his friends that he shelled out to borrow it for his glass (onion) house by declaring, “Blame it on the pando, Blanc. The Louvre was closed, France needed money.” And the reason he “needed” the famed painting?: “I wanna be responsible for something that gets mentioned in the same breath at the ‘Mona Lisa’.” That wish will come true in the most delightful of ways by Act Three, but before then, we’re made to suffer through Miles’ delusional self-aggrandizement as much as Benoit and Andi.

Granted, sometimes it’s a toss-up on who’s the most infuriating of the “rich bubble” bunch. Birdie certainly does her best to win on that front, for one can imagine Ye saying something to the effect of what Birdie proudly tells Benoit: “I’m a truth-teller. Some people can’t handle it.” Benoit replies, “It’s a dangerous thing to mistake speaking without thought for speaking the truth.” Unmoved by his warning, Birdie dumbly asks, “Are you calling me dangerous?” An adjective Ye (and his bestie, Trump) also gets off on being attributed with, for it feeds his narcissism. And that’s the only trait/common ground these people share… other than being strapped to what Andi calls Miles’ “golden titties.”

Golden titties created by Andi, no less. To be sure, Johnson’s decision to position the white man as having plundered from the Black woman is no coincidence. Symbolism as obvious as Miles’ myriagon-league obtuseness. And yet, because of the armor and prestige that his fortune provides, even Benoit was fooled, declaring, “Like everyone in the world, I assumed Miles Bron was a complicated genius. Why? Look into the clear center of this glass onion: Miles Bron is an idiot.” This brings us back to the current debunking of the myth of Elon right now. Starting with paying twice the value of what Twitter was worth and then sinking it into the toilette with his management “skills.” The “genius” was further questioned more literally when asked by a software engineer to explain why and how the company’s code would need a complete rewrite, and to describe it all “from top to bottom.” Pausing before engaging in a bumbling deflection, Musk lashed out, “Amazing, wow. You’re a jackass… What a moron.” Clearly, Musk was projecting.

But let’s hope that this real-life “Wizard of Oz” unmasked as being no more than a little man behind a curtain doesn’t throw quite the same tantrum as Miles by the conclusion. Miles, who collects art and the various instruments of artists (including Paul McCartney’s guitar), not because he is an intellectual or even a genuine appreciator of art, but because these are things that are worth a lot of money—and therefore prove that the person who can buy them has a lot of money (this also coming across as “a nod” to Martin Shkreli and the Wu-Tang Clan album). That he is, in short, a Big Man.

With Glass Onion, Johnson has, accordingly, only confirmed what actual smart (and underpaid) people knew already: to be “successful” in the way that society sets as the standard of such (i.e., having mountains of money and property), you have to be a total dolt to do it. Particularly in the United States, where idiocy over intellect is so patently prized (see: getting a college scholarship based on athletic ability).

As the credits roll, Johnson appears to dig the knife in one last time in terms of sticking it to both “being obvious” and trying to find complexity in people or things that aren’t. This achieved by having The Beatles’ “Glass Onion” play (Johnson keeps it strictly White Album with regard to the band’s catalogue based on the “Blackbird” nod that came at the beginning). The song itself being John Lennon’s tongue-in-cheek response to The Beatles’ listeners and critics constantly reading too much into the band’s lyrics when some things are, put simply, “plain as day.”

As Jacob Stolworthy of The Independent once said of “Glass Onion,” Lennon jokingly “designed [it] to trick fans into thinking their songs meant more than they actually do.” Same as Miles and every millionaire/billionaire douchebag he’s modeled after doing just that to the masses with their own “chaotic” persona… the masses who, evidently, want to see complexity where there isn’t. Because that would mean acknowledging that hard work and intelligence really aren’t factors in realizing the “American dream” at all, despite being peddled that way to anybody who still foolishly believes in the idea of being able to change their class station in life with these “tools,” ultimately only banes in a world that rewards cutting corners and viral videos. Perhaps this is why so many are only too willing to look through the glass onion—the distorted vision—to accommodate the “genius” perception the Miles trope wants them to see. To do otherwise might prove too painful a reality.

Appropriately enough, “Glass Onion” also wields the lyrics, “Looking through the bent back tulips/To see how the other half lives.” Something the rich willfully try to avoid at all costs, even in a time as class divide-highlighting as the (still ongoing) pandemic.