Midnight Mass (2021): Monologue Hell

We watched Mike Flanagan’s The Haunting of Hill House and didn’t like it much. All the supposedly meaningful moments everyone gushed about never really seemed as amazing to us. However, we still decided to give Midnight Mass a try and… ended up regretting it. We tweeted about our experience while watching and now it’s time for a more detailed review. Needless to say, there will be SPOILERS.

The show begins with Riley Flynn in the aftermath of a fatal car accident he caused while driving drunk. After spending 4 years in prison, he returns home to Crockett Island. His mother, the devout Annie, is happy to have her son back, but his father, Ed, is a little distant. Also in the island is Erin Greene, Riley’s high school sweetheart, who’s pregnant and fleeing an abusive marriage. Crockett Island seems doomed, due to a steady population decline and fishing restrictions. However, hope arrives in the form of a new priest, Father Paul, who shows up unexpectedly to replace Monsignor Pruitt at St Patrick’s church, claiming the older man became ill during a trip to the Holy Land and was forced to stay at a mainland hospital. Soon, he’s wowing the congregation with the miraculous cure of young Leeza Scarborough, the mayor’s daughter, who became paralyzed after being accidentally shot by the town drunk, Joe Collie. Some remain sceptic, though, including Riley, who became an atheist while in prison, Sarah, the town doctor, who’s only staying on the island to take care of her sick mother, Mildred, and Hassan, the Muslim sheriff, who’s doing his best to avoid clashing with the predominantly Catholic islanders. The miracles don’t stop with Leeza, but even as she sees her mother grow younger before her eyes, Sarah still looks for a scientific explanation for what’s going on. As more people flock to St Patrick’s, Hassan’s son, Ali, begins to question his faith, which puts him in conflict with his father. Beverly Keane, the town’s resident mean Church lady, quickly becomes Father Paul’s right-hand woman and helps him hide his less priestly behaviour from his congregation. Meanwhile, dozens of dead, exsanguinated cats turn up ashore, and there’s someone (or something) stalking the island wearing the supposedly ill Monsignor’s distinctive long coat and fedora outfit…

This sounds a lot like a vampire show, doesn’t it? Which is why its insistence in not allowing the characters to say “vampire”, even as they’re faced with a blood-drinking, photosensitive, ancient creature whose healing, rejuvenating blood is the source of the miracles (thanks to Father Paul mixing it in the communion wine) is pretty ridiculous. To make things weirder, at one point, Sarah mentions erythropoietic protoporphyria (EPP) as the inspiration for “myths” that can’t be anything other than vampire folklore, which means the idea of vampire exists in this world. So, why doesn’t anyone say it? Also, how the hell would an extreme form of EPP explain the fully functional wings? Did Flanagan just want to include the (unoriginal) concept of vampirism as a virus? While vampire is the obvious word for this being, demon could work, too. After all, he looks pretty demonic with his claws and batwings, and considering how religious some of the characters are and that this is a show that named its episodes after chapters of the Bible, it would be fitting. Only no one says demon, either. The situation is made stupider because Flanagan never even tries to give an alternate explanation for this creature. In Episode 3, we see how Monsignor Pruitt found him in an ancient, buried church in Jerusalem and while he initially attacked the old priest and drank his blood, he later healed him after hearing him pray. From then on, the rejuvenated Pruitt/Father Paul calls him an Angel of the Lord, and repeatedly links the blood drinking to the communion ritual, and the healing properties of the (not) vampire’s blood to Jesus’s miracles. This presented a great opportunity for some crazy revelation about the origins of Christianity. There’s already been a Judas Dracula, so why not a Jesus Dracula? However, the show never goes there.

The refusal to say the v-word isn’t the only issue here. For instance, the rules of this (not) vampirism lack consistency. In Episodes 4 and 5, we see Father Paul and Riley having trouble resisting the hunger for blood, and the same happens to the newly turned islanders in Episode 6. However, in the series’ finale, Ed and Annie declare that not only can it be controlled, but that it also doesn’t change who the person is, so it can’t turn people into murderers. To make things more confusing, the show later has a scene in which the audience is clearly meant to feel sorry for Hobbs, an islander who killed his wife and children after being turned into a (not) vampire. Except, according to Ed and Annie, he could’ve easily stopped himself from doing it. So, does that mean weepy Hobbs wanted to murder his wife and kids? Why should we feel sorry for him, then? Make up your mind, Midnight Mass. Can people with zero training resist the hunger, which would make all the ones who attacked others a bunch of psychos, or is it as overwhelming as it was shown until the final episode? By the way, is there any reason why the (not) vampire hadn't already flown to the mainland and bitten some more people there? He should be able to reach it before sunrise, and if he's telepathically connected with the people he turns, he should know there's a world outside Crockett Island, so why wait? Did he want his army first? Because if he has a plan, his behaviour in the series’ finale makes no sense. Since there doesn't seem to be any way for people to protect themselves from him, why didn’t he just fly all over the island and picked off the rebels one by one (apart from the fact that the show had to end)? Father Paul's explanation for why he thought the creature was an angel was so dumb. Yes, angels always tell people not to freak out in the Bible, but there are descriptions, like Ezekiel 1:5 - 1:21, and none of them looks like that. They also never attack people and drink their blood. And how did no one recognize Father Paul as a younger Monsignor Pruitt? He was probably already too old when Riley was an altar boy, but his parents and all the older islanders should’ve been able to notice the similarities, not just Mildred. Also, if the show wanted his ending to be all about her and Sarah, it should’ve set it up with his Episode 3 confession, but there was no mention of them. Sarah not doing the whole blood sample burning in the sunlight demonstration for Hassan was dumb and an unintentionally funny contrast with Riley letting himself burn in front of Erin to make sure she would believe his story and warn the others about Father Paul. Maybe if the show hadn’t dropped the exsanguinated cats storyline, Hassan could’ve connected the two. However, everyone seems to just forget about it. And what was the point of having younger actors playing older characters? Apart from Mildred, no one really changed that much, which doesn’t make much sense. Shouldn’t Riley’s parents, Bev, and all the adult characters who have been drinking the special communion wine look significantly younger? Yes, Ed’s hair went back to black and Annie stopped wearing glasses, but that’s it. The show is also incredibly predictable. By Episode 2, we had already figured out who Father Paul was, his connection to Sarah and Mildred, and the reason for his new name. We even found ourselves easily guessing the next line in many of the pseudo-deep dialogues.

However, none of the things we complained about in the previous 2 paragraphs are the worst thing about this show. That dubious honour goes to the randomly placed never-ending monologues that consist of a deluge of pseudo-philosophical, hyper-stylized dialogue about the nature of faith, life after death, and even Ignaz Semmelweis, a 19th century Hungarian physician who, the show tells us, was committed to an insane asylum for insisting hand-washing could prevent the spread of diseases. By the way, that last one isn’t quite true. While Semmelweis’s theory did make him a pariah in the medical community, the real reason he was committed was his strange behaviour that might’ve been caused by syphilis or early onset Alzheimer’s. Since this random monologue was Sarah’s way of telling Erin that she didn’t think she was crazy for telling her about Riley and Father Paul, the truth would’ve probably ruined it. Really, the monologuing is out of control. Even in the most urgent situations, the characters will just stop and start talking while the audience wonders if it’s safe to fast-forward or if they risk losing important information. We were sorely tempted to just skip these annoying attempts at making the show look deep and meaningful, but since we were considering reviewing it, we didn’t think it would be fair. 

Anyway, you’d think all this talking would make for some complex, well developed characters — you’d be wrong. Most of the characters come across as bland and never feel real, no matter how much we’re told about them. Riley and Hassan were the standouts — Riley’s character arc was perfect, and Hassan and his son’s deaths were the only ones we felt had any impact in the series’ finale. That said, we wished the show had done more with Hassan investigating people's disappearances. Everybody else was a mess. Leeza’s clash with her parents after they became full-blown cultists could’ve been interesting, but the show kept them apart after that. We didn’t even get a monologue from her explaining why her miraculous cure didn’t blind her to the wrongness of Father Paul’s plans for the congregation, and that one could’ve actually been worth it. Father Paul seemed promising — a deluded man of faith that ends up starting a cult — but for some reason, the show decided to throw in a sudden, unearned, last minute redemption that ended up reducing Sarah and Mildred to props in his story. Even Sarah’s death, which happens after he matter-of-factly reveals that he’s her real biological father, quickly becomes all about them getting to die as a family. A family that Sarah didn’t even know existed and Mildred had let go of decades earlier. We don’t get this choice and we much preferred Father Paul, vampire cult leader. We didn’t care about Joe Collie, either. We weren’t wishing for him to die — we just didn’t care about him or his dog. It was odd to see Joe take part in the island’s fair, the Crock Pot Luck, when the Scarboroughs were right there. And, of course, he keeps drinking and causing enough trouble for Hassan to arrest him. The show wants you to believe he’s filled with remorse for what he did to Leeza, but he doesn’t really act like it. Maybe it would’ve been better if he had been more of a hermit. By the way, Crockett Island must be the nicest small town in the world considering how no one went after him for what he did. At least Leeza got to say she hated him and had hoped his life was miserable before being healed and deciding to forgive him. Ed and Annie were mostly wasted. As people of faith who reject Father Paul’s “new covenant”, they could’ve served as a contrast to the Scarboroughs, but they barely do anything. In addition to these missed opportunities and odd character developments, the acting is pretty lifeless. Erin is the worst offender. When she’s told that the creature’s blood made her baby disappear by treating it like an infection, she just sits there. There’s a fine line between serene + stoic and comatose and Erin is on the wrong side of it. Or maybe she was meant to be high all the time? Sarah is also oddly calm when reciting her theories about all the weird shit that’s been going on. Mildred, too. In the end, her reaction to Father Paul is unbelievably kind, even if she (very serenely) shoots him. Ironically, in this case, a hard slap might’ve been more meaningful than a bullet. Erin, Sarah, and Mildred also make what must be the slowest escape attempt ever when they turn up at the harbour and are informed that both ferries were sent away for repairs and realize that the fishing boats have likely been tampered with. Their reaction? To calmly walk away though there’s no one there apart from them and Sturge, the handyman and a member of Father Paul and Bev’s inner circle. This is ridiculous, especially considering they’re trying to stop a dangerous virus from spreading beyond the island.

We honestly didn’t get what the show wanted the (not) vampire and Beverly Keane to be, apart from the only truly irredeemable villains of the story, and maybe the show didn’t know either. The (not) vampire’s faculties vary greatly throughout. The audience only hears him talk once, when he lures one victim by repeating his words back at him. Father Paul says that he’s communicating telepathically with him and the people he turns, and that he’ll give instructions on who to turn, which seems to indicate the “angel” has some sort of plan. This is supported by Father Paul’s belligerent Good Friday sermon, in which he talks about an army of God that knows no borders. However, when the “angel” is presented to the congregation in Episode 6 wearing a chasuble (which fits suspiciously well on a winged creature), he looks like a trained animal, paraded for people’s amusement, and in the series’ finale, he becomes a dumb beast who gets so distracted while feeding that he lets some puny humans set him on fire and slice his wings, thus preventing him from escaping the rising sun. He’s not even much of a threat for most of the time, letting the good guys run around, interfering with his people’s plans until it’s too late. Maybe trained animal is what the show was going for, as a commentary on how much God serves his followers rather than being served by them, but there were too many mixed signals.

Bev starts as your typical mean Church lady who tattles on naughty teens, complains about everything, hates dogs, and would rather focus on the strictness of religion than its message of love and tolerance. She also knows a Bible verse for every occasion, like when you need to justify letting someone die while you’re drinking their blood directly from a hole in their head. We’re told that she had previously convinced the islanders to accept an unfavourable settlement to compensate for an oil spill that ruined their fishing, which she then pushed them to donate to St Patrick’s so she could build a Recreation Centre. According to Joe, she likely wasn’t honest about how much it cost and took advantage of Monsignor Pruitt’s senility to pocket some of the money. Except that makes no sense. Where did the money go? Bev doesn’t seem to be living better than anyone else, and, more importantly, she’s still there. Why would people even think she had stolen the money when she’s clearly not spending it? Anyway, by Episode 2, Bev has graduated to dog poisoner, and in Episode 4, she’s giving instructions on how to dispose of a dead body. By Episode 6 she’s offering poison to the congregation à la Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple so they can be reborn as (not) vampires and then, in the series’ finale, she goes full religious nutjob and sets fires to fit in with what’s written in the Book of Revelation. Bev’s evilness is so ridiculously OTT that it made us roll our eyes instead of seethe with anger. More importantly, her relation to religion never becomes clear. Is she using it for her own gain, or is she a true believer? Because Greedy Pragmatist Bev wouldn’t have burned the houses. However, after finding out the truth about Father Paul and his miracles, True Believer Bev would’ve surely linked him to the 2 Beasts using the power of Satan to mimic Jesus’s feats from Revelation 13. The show tries to have it both ways and it makes no sense.

Since Midnight Mass is using the horror genre to get its message across, we have to talk about its effectiveness as a horror show. First, is it scary? Not really. There are a couple of jump scares and not much else. The monologues don’t help, nor the characters, but the biggest problem is how it was shot. The story takes place in 7 episodes, each around 1 hour long, and while in theory, the story looks to be moving along nicely — Leeza gets healed in Episode 2, Father Paul’s true identity is revealed in Episode 3, Riley dies in Episode 5, and the Easter Vigil massacre happens in Episode 6 — in reality, the pacing within each episode is so excruciatingly slow that it feels they last twice and sometimes even thrice as long. Slowness in horror can be good to build up a sense of dread as you await the inevitable outcome, but that doesn’t happen here. The only time we felt that anticipation was when Riley went back to the rec centre after the “angel” had finally answered Father Paul’s call. Midnight Mass’s slowness is a hindrance, sucking all sense of urgency from what should’ve been anxiety-inducing situations. But that’s not all. Everything seems to be happening from a distance and the more hectic sequences are awkwardly shot. The action doesn’t flow well in group scenes, looking more like a collection of segments that leave the characters standing there until it’s time for them to do whatever they’re supposed to do. We’re not sure why, but despite all the blood, the violence looks muted. The Easter Vigil massacre felt too small, somehow, which is quite an achievement considering that it features out-of-control newly turned (not) vampires, both Father Paul and Bev being shot, and the creature among the islanders for the first time. The series’ finale suffered from all the issues we already mentioned (yes, even monologuing) and left us wondering what was the point of all this.

Naturally, we couldn’t finish this review without talking about Midnight Mass’s views on religion, which seem to be its raison d’être. However, even that message is muddled. Like we said when writing about the (not) vampire, the show never goes as far as it could have. And it’s not just about revealing Jesus as a vampire — even Riley’s atheism can’t be left alone. When he and Erin monologue about what happens after you die, he gives a scientific explanation concerning a massive release of hormones by the dying body that would cause an hallucinogenic experience. When Riley dies, what he sees is the woman he killed, smiling at him, and reaching out so she can pull him up, towards… well, we don’t actually see it, but everyone can understand how that looks. While it makes sense for guilt-ridden Riley to see his victim in the end, the imagery is clearly religious. When he explained the reason for giving up on religion, he mentioned researching other religions and sounded perfectly reasonable, but the show couldn’t let him stay an atheist. Midnight Mass makes it perfectly clear who the audience should be agreeing with. We know Beverly Keane is bad, so when she tries to justify giving a Bible to Ali, it’s easy to sneer at her sanctimoniousness. By contrast, Hassan comes across as sensible and reasonable as he talks against indoctrination and… explains to a roomful of Christians that Muslims believe that God’s revelation through Jesus was incomplete and the Koran is the final word on everything. If it had been Bev explaining to Hassan how Islam is wrong, this would no doubt be a sign of her zealotry, but since it’s Hassan, it’s all good. The show can’t even openly criticize the damned Bible. When Bev tells people they can’t pick and choose what to believe in the Bible, the audience is probably meant to think of her hypocrisy in forgetting all the nicer verses. However, when Annie makes the hilarious statement that God loves everyone, we’re meant to just accept it and see it as her owning Bev. Now, who’s picking and choosing Bible verses? Did Annie skip all the heathen smiting in the Book of Revelation? Because God doesn’t love everyone. In fact, he hates a lot of people and, according to Annie’s own Holy Book, will be throwing all of them into a fiery pit with Satan and the 2 Beasts in the End. But Midnight Mass isn’t really interested in doing away with religion. Father Paul pre-redemption and Bev are meant to be bad Christians rather than a true representation of their faith. In the series’ finale, after inflicting Erin’s dying monologue about God being cosmic interconnectivity on the audience, we get Annie, Ed, and the other islanders spontaneously singing a religious hymn. The singing is heard over a montage of the characters awaiting their doom, including a dying Hassan and Ali praying together for the last time. The hymn only mentions God, no doubt to avoid anything too specifically Christian, but it’s telling that the show chose this for its final image. For all its posturing, Midnight Mass’s message doesn’t seem to be more than the usual criticism of organized religion as opposed to just following the nice stuff in the Bible.

VERDICT

The basic plot for the show could’ve easily made for a good horror movie, but, unfortunately, it’s buried underneath a plethora of affectations that make this 7 episode miniseries a chore to get through. There isn’t much originality here, either, and that’s part of what makes the incessant monologuing so annoying — everything that Midnight Mass has to say about faith, religion, and addiction has been done to death already, and Flanagan is incapable of presenting it in a compelling way. Thumbs down, Netflix.