Reviews
[Review] ‘Midnight Mass’ Cuts Deep and Instills Profound Faith for Mike Flanagan’s Horror Storytelling
Few storytellers kill their darlings as well as Mike Flanagan. Or more to the point, few storytellers make you care so much about the story’s characters. It causes their trauma, pain, heartbreak, and often worse, to hurt that much more when the horror hits. Flanagan’s only sharpened that skill to a sharp, pointy edge with long-form storytelling, letting you get even more deeply attached over multiple episodes. And Netflix’s limited series Midnight Mass cuts deep.
Riley Flynn (Zach Gilford) returns home to the small community of Crockett Island to pick up the pieces of his life. He committed a horrendous sin that’s left him disgraced in the eyes of many of the island’s residents, including his dad (Henry Thomas). Riley’s homecoming coincides with the arrival of the charismatic Father Paul (Hamish Linklater), who seems to inspire a series of miracles that incurs religious fervor like no other. The real question becomes whether these miracles are a gift from God or if they come with a price.
Flanagan, who directed all seven episodes, bides his time in building the horror to present the interior lives of this community. Riley is merely the gateway into this brilliantly cast ensemble, many of which are recurring players in Flanagan’s works. Two welcome Riley back with open arms, his mother Annie (Kristin Lehman) and childhood sweetheart Erin Greene (Kate Siegel). From that center of this twisted web spins out an intricate tapestry of an isolated community, all with different holes in their hearts that the allure of a higher power promises to fill.
MIDNIGHT MASS (L to R) HAMISH LINKLATER as FATHER PAUL in episode 103 of MIDNIGHT MASS Cr. COURTESY OF NETFLIX © 2021
But just when you feel you have your fingers on the pulse of this quaint little village and all of its faults, Flanagan drops in a visceral horror moment that catches you by the throat. It’s subtle, at first. Just enough to hook you into hitting play immediately on the subsequent episode, and then it builds. And builds. Dread simmers just beneath the surface, the alarm bells ringing in the distance until it crescendos into a full-scale reign of terror of biblical proportions. What’s happening is evident but unspoken by design- this is a supernatural depiction of temptation and corruption, redemption and salvation. Of the selfish and selfless.
Nearly all of the characters garner empathy, even the most broken, save one cruel antagonist. The trademark Flanagan monologues are in abundance here and allow the actors to shine in riveting ways. Supporting player Robert Longstreet rips your heart right out of your chest, outmatching his memorable speech from The Haunting of Hill House. Gilford and Siegel bring a quiet, reflective peace. Annabeth Gish and Rahul Kohli infuse their characters with a cool-headed intelligence that leaves you desperate for them to walk away unscathed. But while Midnight Mass works as an ensemble, Linklater’s magnetic turn clinches the entire thing together. Father Paul’s arc is the most dramatic, a man who buys into his faith so thoroughly that it’s blinding, both a blessing and a dark, dark curse.
MIDNIGHT MASS (L to R) RAHUL KOHLI as SHERIFF HASSAN and MATT BIEDEL as STURGE in episode 102 of MIDNIGHT MASS Cr. EIKE SCHROTER/NETFLIX © 2021
Even when it’s apparent to the horror fan what’s transpiring, Flanagan still manages to avoid a predictable trajectory. The human cost is jaw-dropping and audacious, and guessing fates or outcomes becomes impossible. It’s as thrilling as it can be heartbreaking. The one flaw to this utterly compelling series, though, is its messy conclusion. The emotional beats hit hard, and the actors sell the hell out of their story’s end even when some of the narrative choices and rules get a little sloppy. Questions of easier paths or dangling threads not taken threaten to overshadow the perfection up until this point.
Then again, that flawed ending thematically fits; it requires a leap of faith in specific ways. But not even a small stumbling in the final act can diminish what Flanagan’s created in Midnight Mass. This type of horror leaves a mark. It’s as though Flanagan became such a quick study of what makes Stephen King’s small-town horror tales resonate and is now primed to outpace the master.
Midnight Mass releases on Netflix on September 24, 2021.
Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.
A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.
The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.
You must be logged in to post a comment.