Name: Clue
Genre: mystery film, comedy thriller, parody film, crime film
Duration: 94 min
Cast: Tim Curry, Christopher Lloyd, Madeline Kahn, Lesley Ann Warren, Eileen Brennan

An open wooden drawer floating among plum-colored clouds, with a glowing ladder rising toward golden light. — Original artwork

The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.

Chief

A sunken souffle in a pale ramekin wears a tilted green party hat on a silver tray against plum. — Original artwork

Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests?

Colonel Mustard

Reading glasses rest on an open book atop a small stack of worn books beside a vase of dried stems. — Original artwork

Do you like Kipling, Miss Scarlet?

Colonel Mustard

A small blue megaphone with an open mouth at its rim stands beside a coiled metal spring. — Original artwork

There's no need to shout!

Colonel Mustard

A folded omelette in a black cast-iron skillet beside two eggshell halves on a blue surface. — Original artwork

This is war, Peacock! Casualties are inevitable. You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, every cook will tell you that!

Colonel Mustard

A miniature red wooden door standing ajar with a brass key in its lock and moss around its base. — Original artwork

[Front door opens]

What it means May contain spoilers.

Our interpretation.

This retained bracketed stage direction describes the front door opening. It gives an action rather than spoken dialogue and leaves who opens it or enters unstated.

Context reviewed 30 September 2026

A yellow toy car is tethered to a short metal post by red string on dark grey felt. — Original artwork

Why is the car stopped?

Miss Scarlet

Painterly kitchen knife resting across a whetstone beside a dark cup and grey cloth. — Original artwork

Who would want to kill the cook?

Mr. Green

Two wooden signposts have arrows pointing in opposite directions, with the purple arrow curling around its post. — Original artwork

Split up?!?

Mrs. Peacock

Painterly tarnished badge and magnifying glass on a wet sill beneath blue light. — Original artwork

Are you a cop?

Mrs. White

A widow in black with pearls stands coolly in a candlelit mansion hall while a colonel and a woman in pink edge nervously away. — Original artwork

Flies are where men are most vulnerable!

Mrs. White

A dagger balances upright on its point between two coins on a dark wooden surface. — Original artwork

He threatened to kill me in public.

Mrs. White

A mint tissue box with a raised tissue, a crumpled tissue and a brass ring beside it. — Original artwork

Husbands should be like Kleenex. Soft, strong, and disposable.

Mrs. White

Dinner guests in 1950s evening dress gather round a slumped body in a mansion lounge during a storm, a widow in black standing apart. — Original artwork

Life after death is as improbable as sex after marriage.

Mrs. White

A small figure holding an amber lantern beneath a large horned shadow on a dark indigo wall. — Original artwork

What are you afraid of, a fate worse than death?

Professor Plum

A silver microphone stands in amber light against dark red curtains. — Original artwork

I am your singing telegram!

Singing Telgram

Two empty wooden chairs overlooking the sea at sunset. — Original artwork

But he was your second husband. Your first husband also dissapeared.

Wadsworth

Formal coat draped over a miniature chair beside folded rough cloak — Original artwork

I am merely a humble butler.

Wadsworth

A tangled ball of colorful thread beneath a glass dome, with loose strands beside it against a midnight-blue background. — Original artwork

I can explain everything...

Wadsworth

A small purple armchair has a gold crown on its back and a notepad on its seat, with plants beside it. — Original artwork

Professor Plum, you were once a professor of psychiatry specializing in helping paranoid and homicidal lunatics suffering from delusions of grandeur.

Wadsworth

A brass fishing hook hangs from red thread above a small black bowl against crimson and indigo. — Original artwork

We're like the mounties, we always get our man.

Wadsworth