Blood of my Blood: First Impressions of Netflix’s “Midnight Mass”
Amid a stunning mélange of isolating scenery, claustrophobic small-town politics, and a stunning reinterpretation of Catholic lore, one element of Netflix’s Midnight Mass stands out: the horror, the unspeakable bloody horror of the thing, was once again for love.
From the same director as Netflix’s The Haunting of Hill House (which I still haven’t watched yet… shhhh), Midnight Mass continues Netflix’s track record of producing stunningly engaging horror series. When an oddly familiar priest returns to replace the elderly one at St. Patrick’s Church—a small catholic institution at the heart of an isolated island in Maritime USA—miracles start occurring at an ever-accelerating rate that leaves the skeptics on the island baffled and wary. As the events of the series escalate and more of the sordid affairs of the congregation come to light, the momentum of the new, young, and handsome priest’s new gospel has devastating, irreversible consequences for the tiny seaside community.
Hamish Linklater as Monsignor John Pruitt on the porch of St. Patrick’s Church.
The series is impeccably written, extremely well-acted, and the cinematic work that brings the ambiance to light is incredible. If you’re looking for an engaging horror series to kick off your October horror plans, Midnight Mass should be at the top of your list.
Spoilers Below
It should really say something about me at this point that I am consistently attracted to narratives with an irredeemably misguided antagonist and a heart-wrenchingly unrequited romance plot. It should say even more about me that I only seem to be overcome by angst if these love plots are drenched in a rather substantial amount of blood and are packed with something creepy to make it, you know, not too romantic.
Netflix’s Midnight Mass is not actually romance. Please, under no circumstances recommend this to someone for the relationship plot points unless you want to destroy them. If that is the case, by all means, carry on. I just think too many horror reviewers focus too much on the gore, the monster design, the violence, and the grime (all important to be sure) to the detriment of the elements of the narrative that draws us in and connect to us as humans. After all, why do we feel the same fear, the same apprehension, the same disgust as the figures on our screens and in our pages? What human element allows us to experience the viscerality of terror?
The root of all good horror is empathy.
I loved the vampire priest angle employed in the series. The divine crossing of the profane and the sacred in a man of God was brilliantly executed through the Monsignor’s wretched redemption arc. The star-crossed love between him and Mildred Gunning was heartbreaking and beautiful in the destruction it wrought, and the corruption of even the best of intentions by Bev was frustratingly plausible through her arrogance and bigotry. Riley and Kate’s relationship was realistically complex and invoked some very visceral feelings for me—for reasons I won’t share online.
Erin Green as Kate Siegal
I think what I appreciated most about these people is that they were smart. This wasn’t a “dumb people all die cause they don’t leave the house” kind of horror. This was a “through the very flaws present in all of us by nature of our humanity, they tried their best, followed their truth, and all it brought was pain” kind of horror. WITH the bonus of a giant wingèd beast. Truly delightful.
My goal for October is to just get more content out there by just writing first impressions of films and television shows as they come, so there isn’t really much analysis involved in this post. I was refreshingly enchanted by how incredibly human everyone in this show was, from the characterization to the costuming to the performances. The new twist on Catholic vampire priests will be something to turn into something more academic after I’ve digested it a bit, for sure, and I think the focus on Communion as literal holy blood is a startlingly brilliant take—not least of which because it makes so much sense. The nods to scripture and gospel as fluid, ever-evolving texts and the evocation of biblically accurate angel discourse were both delightful and showed intelligent, informed writing.
I will need to pursue a rewatch before I produce something more academic, and when I do so there are a few things I’d like to look at: vampire catholicism (a throwback to 18th C Gothic where the Gothic was used as a foil for the lecherous threat of passionate Catholic countries like Spain and Italy); supernatural pregnancy and supernatural abortion; discourses of sin and not-sin in Gothic texts; and the subversion of (or revelation of) monstrosity in the church.
Thanks for tuning in to read my thoughts, and I look forward to hearing yours on the series in future.
