Throughout his body of work, what Mike Flanagan tackles best are the haunted. Be it by specters, guilt, regret, prejudice, potential, or literal monsters: exploring the myriad means and meaning of hauntings are his forte. With Midnight Mass, he arguably presents a look at an entire town that is haunted: dead without knowing, withering spiritually, mentally, physically, festering a rot slowly consuming within and without. In this spiritual abscess comes a visitor, offering renewal and rebirth for the beleaguered townspeople, with miracles and madness to follow.
Horror veterans will find little new here, likely grasping what approaches moments into the first episode. Flanagan lampshades the sources of his inspiration, and is not shy or subtle about the subject matter he intends to explore. Visually, he mimics the look and feel of a Stephen King novel, complimenting the feeling of characters trapped in amber. Each character is harboring secret shame and hidden depths, and there is no shortage of brilliant characterization.
The opening of the series is its most impactful, with some truly harrowing moments and masterfully executed frights. He is an impressive writer and director, easily wielding metaphors and subtext that would confound lesser talent. The series is overall short on frights, each episode providing a few jolts at best, but each a masterclass in execution. There are phenomenal practical effects and the last two episodes go all-out in a frenzied blood-drenched free-for-all that is certainly worth some initially plodding pace. But the darkest horror from the Midnight Mass comes not from external specters and demonic visitations, but the willingness and capacity for individuals to justify atrocity and horror to serve self-interest. There are some overt parallels to contemporary society, but Flanagan strives to present these themes more broadly.
The acting and performances are excellent throughout; employing familiar faces and adding several quality additions to his regular stable of actors, however Flanagan’s continued insistence of making his wife front and center of his series comes as a detraction. The focus of the series should be elsewhere, as there are far more intriguing stories, actors and insights present. Of particular note are performances from Hamish Linklater and Samantha Sloyan, each of which deliver exceptional, mesmerizing performances hinting at depths of character and experiences the series barely covers.
The series is certainly not without flaws, an entire episode could easily be whittled away without detracting from the whole. An editor would be well served here, as there are entire sequences of dialogue in which characters wax poetic with sophomoric takes on philosophical concepts. None of it is quite as profound as Flanagan might hope, and the show is not as intelligent as it might aspire. Moments of the last episode seem shortchanged with glaringly horrible moments of omission in the last act that make me wonder if they simply ran out of money. However, beyond these issues, Mike Flanagan once more confirms here why he is unreservedly my favorite working horror director and I will watch each and every work he presents with fanaticism befitting the themes of this series.