There’s an uncomfortable, addictive quality to faith. When a person has a deep belief in something — whether that be as sincere as religion or as whimsical as the superstition that shattering a mirror will bring seven years’ bad luck — it often serves as a lifeline people cling to. When that faith is given credence, it acts almost as a restorative energy that keeps you clinging on. When that faith is shaken, it risks being lost for good.
It’s this concept of the power of faith that sits at the heart of the supernatural-horror Netflix miniseries, Midnight Mass. While the show’s creator, Mike Flanagan, has written and directed a seemingly endless stream of horror shows both before and after this one, Midnight Mass remains his most personal (and arguably his best). It tackles issues that affected Flanagan throughout his life, such as growing up Catholic, alcohol addiction, and his eventual atheism. In a guest essay on Bloody Disgusting, Flanagan says the show “has been part of me for so long, it’s difficult to remember when exactly it started.”
Released in 2021, Midnight Mass has often been discussed by fans as Flanagan’s best work. Despite being an original series by Flanagan, the series has also been lauded for being spiritually aligned with horror icon and author Stephen King’s works, such as Salem’s Lot.
The reverence for Midnight Mass is absolutely deserved, which makes it all the more shocking that the supernatural-horror miniseries struggled to find its place. For a long time, Midnight Mass looked as though it would forever be an easter egg in Flanagan’s 2015 psychological-horror film Hush, which features Kate Siegel and Samantha Sloyan excitedly talking about the fictional book’s characters, Riley and Erin. Funnily enough, Siegel and Sloyan would go on to play Erin Greene and Bev Keane in the miniseries.
Flanagan’s fortunes changed, however, when he found success with Netflix’s adaptations of classic horror stories, The Haunting of Hill House and The Haunting of Bly Manor. This finally convinced Netflix to take a chance on Flanagan’s original work a shot. That shot paid off.
Set in the early 2020s, the series follows Riley Flynn (Zach Gilford), a former Catholic who, after spending four years in prison for killing a woman while drunk driving, returns home to Crockett Island. What once used to be a thriving fishing community has since become a crockpot of despair: fishermen aren’t allowed to fish as much, there are fewer people living on the island, and the people who do live there grow more and more insular by the day.
Riley’s arrival on the island, and his fraught relationship with his family after they discover he is far from the boy they raised, serve as a perfect mirror of the conflicts of several others on Crockett Island. There’s Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), whose Muslim faith puts him at odds with a predominantly Catholic population, such as the overzealous Bev (Samantha Sloyan). There’s also Riley’s brother Warren (Igby Rigney), who longs to be free from the long shadow of his sibling and all his past accomplishments, both good and bad.
Yet while a deeply intimate story for Flanagan, what makes Midnight Mass stick with us like blood in a vampire’s fangs is that, even if you don’t come from a religious background, there has always been a time in our lives when we were irrevocably changed by something. For the dwindling masses of Crockett Island, hopelessness and despair are rooted in the community’s lifeblood, like a disease. It’s only when Father Paul Hill (Hamish Linklater) arrives to replace the island’s aging priest, that a cure, cloaked in the grandeur robes of a cleric, seems within reach. With the island’s hope suddenly restored by their charismatic new religious leader, Flanagan quickly gets to work, depicting how blind faith can often lead to dark and deadly consequences.
It would be a complete disservice to spoil the twisty road paved with good intentions that Flanagan takes you on in Midnight Mass. For viewers who are exceptionally lucky to have never watched the series, go in expecting your feelings to be put through the shredder. Flanagan is well known for a poignancy that often leaves you feeling as though you either need to lie down or cry for the rest of the day — and never out of cynicism. For all the horror that awaits Crockett Island’s miserable lot, there is something beautiful about the restoration of faith and belief after being without it for so long… even if it’s destined not to last.
