Has a scrumptious classic dinner party-whodunit feel, with a compelling first act full of subtle clues that let you know something’s afoot, and then a second act where the other foot (in a shoe) drops and the layers are peeled back. The humour is excellent (“Please tell me you did not think sweatshops are where they make sweatpants”), the drama less so; Andi’s glass ceiling-and-other-objects-shattering arc is effective but the others are never likeable enough to justify how they tagged along.
“The thing about stories, they never really end do they? We’re still telling the same stories we’ve always told, just with different names, faces.” A great meta quote that ends a probably overly meta scene (the WB mention is too much) but kicks off the film’s fascinating re-examination of narrative truth and fiction, identity and choice, binaries and in-betweens in an old but new world. As the plot picks up it stumbles though; the story mechanics are convoluted and the stakes feel strangely low.