There’s no way around it: Midnight Mass is a masterpiece. Creator Mike Flanagan has steadily built an impressive filmography that tackles the deepest, most fundamental issues of what it means to be human while simultaneously scaring the hell out of viewers. He continues, and somehow surpasses, that work in an astonishing new series about faith, family, addiction, grief, guilt, and — above all else — redemption. This is a spacious yet intimate series, a wide-ranging and far-reaching tale that still feels very specifically tied to a small and exceptionally well-drawn group of characters. True to form, Flanagan’s show will leave viewers emotionally scarred long after its bone-chilling scares have subsided, but it also offers hope and healing. Midnight Mass is Flanagan at the peak of his artistic powers and his ability to terrify and emotionally destroy viewers in equal measure. It is also Flanagan at his most transformative and redemptive. Viewers will be broken down and built back up again by this stirring, remarkable work of art.
After a devastating fall from grace, Riley Flynn (Zach Gilford) returns home to Crockett Island (or “the Crock Pot,” as some residents lovingly call it), a small island community about 30 miles off the northeastern coast of the United States. It is a place of faith and family, but also death and decay: once home to hundreds of people making their living fishing the grey coastal waters, now it is home to just dozens of struggling people who either refuse to leave or simply can’t afford to. The Crock Pot is a highly religious community: St. Patrick’s Catholic Church is the central hub for most of the main characters. Attendance begins to spike when new priest Father Paul (Hamish Linklater) arrives and brings miracles along with him. Eerie events also come in the wake of these miracles, and the town must reckon with their faith — in God, themselves, and each other — as circumstances begin to spiral out of control.
Gilford proves once again what an incredible actor he is, delivering on the promises he made during the unforgettable Friday Night Lights episode “The Son.” In Midnight Mass, Gilford gives a heartbreaking performance full of grief, guilt, and self-loathing. Riley is haunted by the sin he committed and the faith he lost as a result, and Gilford conveys that lost mournfulness just in the way he widens his eyes as he talks about feeling adrift and without purpose now that he has returned to his hometown. However, he also finds the beauty and joy in his character, cracking jokes and offering a wry but warm grin as he tries to settle back into a home that never felt like home to begin with. It is often difficult to stand out in one of Flanagan’s Netflix productions since he casts a large number of stellar actors at the top of their game. Still, Gilford manages to stand out in Midnight Mass with his raw, vulnerable performance.
Gilford is not the only star of the series, though. Linklater is mesmerizing as Father Paul. While the ensemble cast is uniformly strong — including many welcome faces from Flanagan’s previous Netflix outings — the series often rests on Linklater’s shoulders. He demonstrates throughout each episode just how suited he is for the task. His sermons are riveting; just like the residents of the Crock Pot, viewers will be entranced by his impassioned speeches from the pulpit. Linklater has always been a magnetic screen presence, but it is simply impossible to look away from him in this series. His Father Paul seems to glow from within, drawing in viewers and congregants alike with his irresistible energy. Father Paul displays a clear need to connect with his new community. Linklater taps into that desperate drive to heal and be healed by that connection in hypnotically beautiful monologues. Accomplishing just as much in his quiet moments as he does in his occasionally bombastic homilies, Linklater takes a nuanced, complicated character and makes him even more fascinating. Midnight Mass begs for a rewatch simply to understand just how brilliant his performance really is.
There isn’t a single moment when this exquisitely plotted story drags. It focuses so much on establishing character and mood in early episodes, though, that it is a bit of a slow burn when it comes to its horror elements. However, the pacing is masterful. The series drops a few eerie moments among the stunning character work early on. Once the viewer is completely immersed in this community and its inhabitants, Midnight Mass explodes in a terrifying finale of fire and frenzy. The deft narrative’s tiny, perfectly placed breadcrumbs lead the way to the moment when all the mysteries are solved, and the small character beats take on new, immensely satisfying significance in series rewatches. Though Flanagan is known for his supernatural scares, the most frightening part of Midnight Mass is the very human evil that lies at the heart of the narrative. Crockett Island is an insular and highly religious community. While many of its residents are kind and decent, some of them are more than willing to manipulate the vulnerable people surrounding them and twist religious messages to suit their selfish agendas. The series is a blistering look at faith versus dogma and the senseless, brutal ways people hurt each other while invoking God’s will.
Midnight Mass is also a story about connection: the connections amongst individuals and the connections between individuals and their faith. Accordingly, despite some large, impressive set pieces and truly shocking events, the series’ best moments might be the scenes that feature two characters simply talking to each other. When Riley and his former flame Erin Greene (Kate Siegel) reconnect, their scenes are electric and tense, weighed down as they are by years of distance, trauma, and crushed dreams. Siegel imbues Erin with warmth, humor, and hard-earned wisdom that bring out the best in Riley, and it’s a joy to see him experience those brief moments of happiness and hope amid his constant guilt and shame.
It is also a particular pleasure to watch Gilford and Linklater work together. One of their early encounters is a striking achievement, not just in its acting but in Flanagan’s writing, directing, and editing as well. Riley and Father Paul debate personal responsibility and the existence of a just, loving God. They are shot individually, often only occupying the far side of the frame, and the quick cuts and multiple angles set the two men at odds with each other, mirroring the fractured relationship between Riley and the Church. It is a riveting scene from a formal perspective, as the shot composition and editing tempo keep the viewer on the edge of their seat the whole time, but also from a performance perspective, as both men bare their souls from opposite sides of the most fundamental questions human beings can ask themselves.
It’s impossible to write about a series like this without calling attention to its remarkable eye for detail. The writing, the production design, the acting…every aspect of this series is the result of artists operating at the top of their game, and it results in a world that feels intimately familiar. Midnight Mass is highly specific yet universal, ordinary yet extraordinary. The weather-beaten American flags that flap in the wind, the sign at St. Patrick’s that has to use numbers in place of letters because they ran out of vowels — i.e., “M4SS RESUMES SUND4Y” — these are details that convey so much about a setting and its people without a word of dialogue being spoken. It is a delight to soak in such rich storytelling.
The viewer knows who each and every character is from the moment we meet them, and the smallest of details go the farthest in getting to know the characters as people. We know exactly who Riley’s mother, Annie (Kristin Lehman), is when she absent-mindedly gets tangled up in the phone cord as she excitedly talks to Riley the day before he arrives back on the island. We know who Riley’s gruff but loving father, Ed (Henry Thomas), is by the way he haltingly reaches out for Riley on his first night back, not quite sure whether to hug him or shake his hand. It feels like a disservice to the cast to mention a select few by name because each and every actor in the show is phenomenal, but Thomas deserves accolades for the way he expresses the laconic Ed’s warring emotions with his physical performance. Other key players who give equally striking performances are Rahul Kohli as Sheriff Hassan, a newcomer to the island who discovers just how small-minded the Crock Pot can be; Samantha Sloyan as Bev, St. Patrick’s liturgist who thinks God’s love shines a little brighter on her than on anyone else; Michael Trucco as Wade, the mayor of Crockett Island who tries to explain away the eerie happenings and keep local feathers unruffled; and Robert Longstreet as Joe Collie, the town outcast with an albatross around his neck.
Appropriately for a story set on an island, water is omnipresent in Midnight Mass. The camera occasionally sways ever so slightly from side to side, mimicking the movement of a boat rocking on gentle waters or a censer swinging from an altar boy’s hands. The score from the Newton Brothers continues the dual motifs of the series’ physical and metaphysical settings. Scenes are often accompanied by a cappella hymns or choral music. These songs range from mournful to uplifting to sinister; just as the human voice can create different effects depending on intention or motive, religion is what you make of it. In some people’s hands, faith can be beautiful and comforting; but in the hands of others, it can be terrifying and menacing. Suspenseful scenes are often set to a minimalist score of a single plucked note followed by a single bowed note. The notes are slow and spread apart at first, but they accumulate and quicken like raindrops in a gathering storm.
Michael Fimognari’s cinematography likewise highlights these two aspects of Crockett Island that seem so inextricably linked. Blue-grey shots of morning water emphasize the hard life on the island as residents get up before dawn to seek their meager daily catch. A veritable rainbow of sunrises, ranging from soft pastels to blazing reds, reflect God’s promise of a new day as well as the sometimes exhilarating, sometimes terrifying idea that you never know what that new day will bring. The camera movement is spectacular, allowing intimate scenes to breathe or heightening suspense in tense moments. The camera circles Wade and Sheriff Hassan in one memorable scene as the mayor grasps at straws to rationalize a disturbing event. The dynamic circular movement underlines the fear that the mayor is trying to stave off and mirrors Hassan’s inability to make much headway in a community that views him as an outsider. Midnight Mass is dense and rich, and every element of the show converges perfectly to convey its complex themes.
One important note: Netflix has an unfortunate habit of skipping the credits. This is a detriment for a few reasons, not least of which is that it shows disrespect to all the people who worked so hard on the show. Additionally, it prevents viewers from taking in the end of an episode as intended. Nowhere is that more noticeable than in Midnight Mass. Though the screen goes to black each time, the audio that lingers over the end credits is vital, particularly for one episode that highlights a raw, powerful performance that will affect viewers in that devastating and deeply human way that Flanagan and company tap into so purely.
Flanagan’s ability to find the horror in humanity and the humanity in horror is always astonishing, and Midnight Mass is his deepest and most affecting work yet. As terrifying and devastating as his work can be, though, his series tend to end on a bittersweet note of hope. This holds true for Midnight Mass, though viewers might need some time to collect themselves in order to see it. Despite all the tragedy and pain that life throws at us — despite all the suffering that others bring us or that we bring upon ourselves — there will be a sunrise waiting for us the next day. Whether that is a triumph or a tragedy depends on the individual, but ultimately it is a sign of hope for humanity. In much the same way, Midnight Mass is both tragedy and triumph. It is heart-wrenching and horrifying; it is also beautiful and poetic, reflecting humanity’s best and worst through an unforgettable work of art that renews viewers’ faith in creation and connection.
