This piece contains spoilers for The Haunting of Bly Manor.
I believe, irrefutably, that we are all in the presence of ghosts.
Our daily lives are haunted by their presence. We feel them in the cold chill that runs down our spine at seemingly random moments. We see them on the periphery of our vision, or as fleeting appearances in the reflection of a window. We hear them as the silences that break apart the monotonous drone of the living world around us. Their presence is a continuous, collective experience for us all, whether we are able to or choose to acknowledge them or not. Regardless of our feelings on the matter, ghosts walk amongst us. I would take that even a step further… ghosts walk with and within us. This became abundantly clear to me upon watching Mike Flanagan’s The Haunting of Bly Manor on Netflix over the summer.
In his book, Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places, Colin Dickey says that “ghost stories reveal the contours of our anxieties, the nature of our collective fears and desires, the things we can’t talk about in any other way.” I can’t think of a better description of the way ghosts function in The Haunting of Bly Manor. The series has garnered a fair share of critique for presenting its spectres more like tragic lost souls than the nightmarish, eternally suffering spirits found in its spiritual sister series, The Haunting of Hill House. Yet, it’s the quiet, introspective nature of Bly Manor that unsettled me more. Make no mistake, I was rattled by the emotional depth in Hill House. It also has some of the most effective scares I have ever experienced — there’s nothing quite as bone chilling as the first time you spot one of the ghosts hidden in plain sight. Precisely because its scares are so perfect, I felt no need for another series to attempt to outdo it. Frankly, I don’t think it could be done. So, I was quite delighted to see Bly Manor attack us with something that is not only softer, but something much more insidious.
The ghosts that wander through Bly Manor vary from believably alive to fantastically nightmarish. On the surface, I already found these spirits to be unnerving due to their variety of appearance and demeanor. This sensation was made all the stronger once I unpacked how they functioned as a unit. In the second half of the series, we are given clearer explanations regarding the source of the hauntings in Bly Manor, and how these ghosts all relate to one another. In the penultimate episode, it is revealed that the souls of those who die on the grounds of Bly Manor are bound to it because of Viola Willoughby-Lloyd’s (Kate Siegel) intense cycle of rage and loneliness. Although she died there many years ago, her unwillingness to lose the estate and her daughter upon her death have caused her spirit to continuously search for her child in a vicious cycle. As time went on, Viola began to forget what it was she was searching for, but she continued the motions nevertheless. This is the fate for all souls in Bly.
The ghosts of Bly Manor are tormented by a cycle of their most deep-seated traumas. Their time in the afterlife begins with confusion and denial. They still feel alive. Their desires remain, as well as their fears. Fears such as being abandoned, losing loved ones, being forgotten, or simply being dead all haunt these poor souls trapped within Viola’s vortex of anguish. They are trapped by the burdens of those that came before them. Most unsettlingly, they are trapped by the burdens of one whose name they have likely never even heard before. This, to me, is the heart of what makes The Haunting of Bly Manor so terrifying. What’s worse is that every soul trapped on the grounds of the manor is also destined to gradually lose all semblance of who they were in life.
There are two major types of ghosts in Bly Manor: the new and the old. All of the more recent additions such as Rebecca Jessel (Tahirah Sharif), Peter Quint (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), and Hannah Grose are still visibly themselves. They look and behave in much the same way they did when they were alive. Rebecca and Peter have already begun to be pulled into the cycle of past trauma brought on by Viola’s presence, but we witness Hannah’s cycle as it takes shape. Until that time she easily fools everyone around her — herself included — into believing that she is just another resident at Bly.
The older spirits have had more time to be broken down by their traumas. Like Viola, they would wake, they would walk, and they would sleep. These souls are worn out, eroded by time. Their anguish is marked by the features of their faces being erased with each new repetition. Viola wanders the grounds as a faceless monstrosity without any purpose beyond habitual repetition of action. The only thing that spurs her along is the memory of a memory. One long forgotten, but still felt deep inside. When we are first presented with these two types of ghosts in the series, it’s puzzling. What makes them so different? How did this shambling Lady of the Lake come to be? Once everything is made clear, we are confronted with the inevitability that all souls are destined to wither away into husks of suffering and confusion.
So far, I have managed to explore how the ghosts of Bly Manor demonstrate what I mean when I say that ghosts walk with us. Their stories and emotions linger, drifting alongside us in our day-to-day. They are the kind woman we could have sworn we spoke to earlier that day, just to discover we only truly knew her from photographs or stories. They are the voices we hear next to our ears when we are drifting off. Crisp and clear voices that whisper our names. They are there with us, even when they are simply the feeling that we are not alone. When we lose hold of their memory, they lose hold of themselves. We aren’t to blame for their suffering. It’s just the nature of memory. All things fade over time. Our souls are no exception. Still, this does not attest to what I meant by ghosts walking within us. I feel that the series illustrates this through Dani (Victoria Pedretti) and Viola’s bond.
Dani is an interesting case study, as she is the only example we are given of someone who is visibly haunted by the past. The manifestations of her late fiance, James (Greg Sestero), pop up when she least expects them. I found this visual metaphor for the way melancholic memories, grief, and guilt can arise in fleeting glimpses incredibly apt. Often, it is when I am doing something mundane, like doing the dishes or trying to sleep, that hurt hits me like a tidal wave. All at once, the faces of those I have lost or nearly forgotten make their presence felt. I remember them more clearly in those moments, and I remember why I may have slowly forgotten. The memory hurts too much to bear.
Dani is the viewer’s tether between the story world and the viewer’s world. She is crafted with outstandingly realistic traits and quirks — she often tries to emulate the accents of those around her, she struggles with making the perfect tea, she is shown with her mouth hanging open while sleeping in the back of a taxi, etc. We can see ourselves in her struggles, or, rather, we can see ourselves in her pain. When she finally comes face-to-face with Viola, it’s in an explosion of dread and terror. The unstoppable force comes crashing into our tether, dragging us along for the ride. Seeing Viola’s hand around Dani’s throat was like looking at her hand around my own.
I have had nightmares about getting caught in Viola’s path. Even so, this was not the most chill-inducing moment in the series for me. Dani and Viola’s first confrontation is upsetting and visceral, but I was most shaken when Dani opened herself up to Viola. As Viola stopped in the waters of the lake, so too did my breath halt for a time. My tether was about to succumb to the grief-stricken agony of time and repetition. Viola’s woes were about to be brought closer to me.
There has been much discourse on the way the final episode of the series portrays the romance and relationship between Dani and Jaimie (Amelia Eve). It is a beautifully told and realized union between two aching souls. Their love warmed my heart and made me feel more appreciative of the simplicities of the love in my life. However, I was constantly aware of Viola’s presence. Not just when the episode made sure to remind the viewer, but always. The image of her turning while standing in the lake was always in the back of my mind. Dani and Jaimie were happy, just as they deserved. But I couldn’t help but wonder when it would all go wrong.
The whole stretch of sequences that make up the time Dani had Viola within her is a perfect representation of how ghosts can walk within us. James had finally faded away as Dani learned to stop blaming herself for his death. She took responsibility for his emotional strife, but his passing was an accident entirely beyond her control. Viola fills the space he left behind. For a short time, that void was beginning to fill with comfort and self respect. Viola’s presence stopped all of that from reaching Dani, much in the same way our memories can block out our joy. The book our grandparents used to read to us. The fragrance worn by a late lover. The collar worn by a beloved pet. All of these things remind us of the past and those that left their marks upon us — emotionally or physically. I don’t mean to say that such memories are always negative. These can be warm and delightful sensations, as well. My meaning is that they have left a lasting effect on us that we cannot escape. For Dani, Viola’s pain is her pain. The contempt, rage, and loneliness that make up Viola eat away at Dani over the years. There are moments of joy, but each one is always tinged with a brief touch of the ghost lingering within her.
We all go through this. We all house the traumas of others, whether we realize it or not. Every soul we have been in contact with has left some sort of a mark. Some miniscule, others quite profound. Dani’s path is our path. She was first haunted by guilt, but once this trauma was reconciled she became haunted by the dread of not knowing who she truly was anymore. Viola embodies the emotional scars we bear from others. Hurtful words and actions can have a lasting effect that shape our every decision. We may not know that this is the case, but the spectre of doubt creeps into our imagination much like the ghosts of the past catch up with us when we are most vulnerable.
Like with the ghosts featured in Bly Manor, we drift along in a cycle of trauma. For me, this is the most confrontational and horrifying notion the series has to offer. Likewise, keeping the fate of these ghosts in mind, our destinies seem fixed. We are doomed to fade away, to be forgotten, and to lose all semblance of who we were. The Haunting of Bly Manor may not contain the same shocks or brooding atmosphere found in its predecessor, but to say that it is not scary is puzzling to me. It is an allegory for our legacies and how they fade over time, losing any attachment to the real people who carved those legacies. It is also an allegory for the inevitable repetition of emotion we undergo throughout our lives. Like the ghosts within Bly’s walls, our trauma haunts us and puts us on a path that circles back to repeat itself. The terror of not being able to break this cycle and to live freely is at the heart of the series. The tragic conclusion is that we might never be able to truly break free from this process.
“It’s you. It’s me. It’s us.”
All of us.
