Midnight Mass, Mike Flanagan’s latest Netflix miniseries, has a number of the quirks that were present in his previous outings (that would be The Haunting of Hill House and The Haunting of Bly Manor, for those not wholly familiar with his recent oeuvre). Now, as was the case with the other series, some of them work incredibly well (namely, his penchant for casting a troupe of actors from previous projects and using the seemingly mundane as the setting for chilling horror), but others (like his inability to write succinct dialogue and provide character development for more than one or two key characters) hamper the series to the point that it becomes unwatchable at times. A lot of the show is saved by its stellar cast – albeit with one glaring miscasting – but, when it’s all said and done, Midnight Mass is more style than substance.
The series is set on Crockett Island, and follows the return of the town’s prodigal son, Riley Flynn (a very good Zach Gilford, who serves as the audience surrogate for much of our early interactions with the island), who left town to strike it big in business only to become an alcoholic who kills a young woman while driving drunk. After serving time in prison, he returns home, unsure of his place in his former community (a place where people know everything about everyone and are certain to gossip to fill in any blanks that might exist), his family, and his former Catholic faith. His childhood sweetheart, Erin Greene (Kate Siegel, who is miscast in the role and whose delivery of the show’s often stilted dialogue falls flat throughout the series) has also returned from her time away, pregnant – which, of course, sets off plenty of gossip. And, since three is a key number in Catholicism, the island welcomes Father Paul Hill (a sensational Hamish Linklater, new to the Flanagan Players, but a wonderful addition), a mysterious priest from the mainland.
Naturally, being a Flanagan series, supernatural happenings begin, leading characters to take a deep look at their own faith – in themselves, others, family, and God – to varying degrees. For Riley and Erin, it means long monologues to each other about the meaning of life and death. For the island’s resident religious zealot Bev Keane (Samantha Sloyan, so good with such a despicable, bigoted character), it’s a chance to lean into her judgement of those around her – conveniently forgetting the axiom “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” An apparent miracle kicks off the fracturing of the community, with others following, leading the town’s resident doctor Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish, doing a lot with too little screen time) to begin questioning if there’s a scientific reason behind things – or if she should lean into her own faith and believe. Once the true source of the changes to Crockett is revealed, about 1/3 of the way into the series, it’s not all that shocking (and, if you are good at recognizing actors under layers of make-up, you’ll have seen it coming earlier).
It’s hard to delve into what works and what doesn’t work with the series without giving away the central “twist,” but I’ll do my darnedest. The main issue with the series is that Flanagan wants the characters to wrestle with some very big ideas without taking the time to develop the characters and their individual worldviews beyond basic, one- or two-line character tropes. Riley is the recovering alcoholic who sees the glass as half empty and can’t connect with his spirituality. Bev is so blinded by her religious fervor that she is unable to entertain that the events around her are anything other than gifts from above. Sarah is torn between science and faith. But we don’t learn much more about them. Yes, there are long monologues that opine on the issues the series is attempting to raise, but again, they are style over substance. The characters talk, but nothing changes in their actions or worldview. We just listen to them talk and talk and go nowhere.
The production values are solid, and the overall arc of the series is fine (if incredibly predictable). And, as a lapsed Catholic who spent almost my entire academic career at Catholic schools, I could certainly relate to the various perspectives on the Church and its role in modern society (and the good and ill it brings to the world around us) – I suspect those without a deep Catholic background will appreciate the series, but will miss out on some of the key idiosyncrasies contained within (think of them as Easter Eggs for the Catholic audience). And the final message of the piece – the blind faith in something and someone is just as dangerous as a complete lack of faith, religious or otherwise, in your life – is well addressed by Flanagan’s work. I just wish the series was able to dive a bit deeper to give us reasons to legitimately care about the characters it presents. With a large body count, I can honestly say only a couple of the deaths made any real impact because of how poorly drawn most of the show’s characters were.
So, is Midnight Mass worth a look? If you’re a Flanagan fan, you’ll likely enjoy this. And if you’re able to look past the show’s shortcomings and appreciate the series for the surface level piece it is, give it a look. But if you’re looking for a deeper, more emotionally resonate series, this isn’t Flanagan’s best. Give one of his other Netflix show’s a look instead – they have more meat on their bones.
All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are currently streaming on Netflix.
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