Midnight Mass, The Last Duel, and Cardamom Milk Candles
We watched Midnight Mass on Netflix over a few evenings in the last two weeks. Like all of Mike Flanagan’s shows (The Haunting of Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor), it’s not quite good filmmaking. But there’s a lot to chew on, and more in Midnight Mass than, I think, in his previous work.
A podcast is forthcoming on the series, and I don’t have much time to spend on it otherwise, so I won’t try to say everything here. I won’t spoil it for the unfamiliar, but the premise is simple: A small island off the coast of the eastern US, populated mostly by fishermen and their families, is surprised when a new, young, vibrant priest arrives to pastor the local Catholic parish, St. Patrick’s. He’s filling in for their long-time pastor, who is very old and needs to recover in a hospital on the mainland. And there are some new/old arrivals on the island too, both of whom grew up there: A young man who has spent several years in prison following a deadly drunk driving accident, and a young woman who is several months pregnant and has taken over her deceased mother’s teaching job in the local elementary school.
And then some strange miracles start to happen on the island.
As many have noted, Midnight Mass is a deeply personal drama (nearly a melodrama, honestly) about addiction and specifically alcoholism, something that Flanagan has struggled with and talked about in interviews. As the story goes on, metaphors for the alluring power of addiction to suck in the addict and ruin the lives of those around them is everywhere, and fierce. Flanagan uses the language of horror (including some very familiar, frightening tropes — again, don’t want to spoil it) to plumb the depths of that sickness, which does, after all, manifest as horror for those caught in its talons.
But I think there’s an equally rich strand of the story that’s about both addiction to power and the manner in which religious communities gather around charismatic but deadly leaders, and twist the Scriptures to fit their own purposes.
(Okay, mild spoilers do kind of follow here.)
I, like seemingly everyone I know, has been listening to the “Rise and Fall of Mars Hill” podcast that Christianity Today has been releasing during the last few months. None of it is too surprising, but it’s compellingly researched and told, to the point that some of my friends who aren’t at all religious, or have even heard of Mars Hill, have told me they’ve been listening.
At its best, the most potent part of the podcast illuminates how Mark Driscoll and those around him manipulated their platforms and power, and — I think maybe more urgently (and still not as spun out in the podcast as of yet) — how, and why, ordinary church members and admirers were sucked into it.
I have been around and part of communities like that a lot in my life, many of which were centered on leaders, almost always men, who turned out to be narcissists and abusers. Or, if they weren’t, they were simply in it for themselves, devoid of principles and only believing what they preached when it was convenient for them. They have shown themselves to be easily tossed to and fro by the winds of … well, whatever makes them feel like they’re even closer to power than before.
It’s demoralizing to watch, and it makes it hard to trust any leader and, to be honest, probably we shouldn’t. But I don’t have a great answer for why people are so attracted to this, other than a basic, boring, run-of-the-mill need to feel part of something and to feel better about ourselves.
This is something that Midnight Mass illustrates incredibly well, and if you watch it with that lens it’s quite powerful. The central pastor character has had a taste of being close to an almost inconceivable power; he needs more of that. And he needs to bring others along with him.
But he’s not the story’s villain. That’s Bev Keane, the vindictive, judgemental, Bible-quoting woman who’s seemingly running everything and who, we’re told, has even persuaded the residents of the island to give up desperately-needed money they received in the wake of a livelihood-killing accident for her own projects. Boy, she’s bad. And familiar. She poisons pets, fosters hate, and gleefully aids in doing something very evil — and when she’s confronted, she twists the Bible to justify her ascent to power. Even if the Bev Keane of your life didn’t literally poison pets, you know her real well. She might have poisoned you.
Near the end of the show, the pastor says, effectively, that this whole thing was never supposed to be about following him, but about following God. Small comfort, since he’s caused destruction. The people of the island also receive the natural consequences of their idolatry.
But one thing I like about the show, something that rings true, is the grace it has for those who were, in essence, duped by a strong, charismatic leader who says incredible things and seems to make their lives measurably better just by being there. That people at Mars Hill experienced life transformation is never denied in the podcast; it still doesn’t reverse the harm done. The people of the island are not going to be able to be saved together; the deeds they’ve done at his behest can’t be reversed.
But they’re able to step into the light together and face what they realize they need to do to lay down their lives for the world, even after what they’ve done. Giving up your life to save others is, in the end, the theme of the show. The only person who seems irredeemably beyond reach is Bev, and her end is ignominious. Broken grace, in the world of the show anyway, is granted for those can recognize what they’ve been involved in, or those who spotted it and steered clear in the first place. It’s the perpetrators, the predators, the ones who preyed on people who were simply desperate for a miracle, who are, I suspect, damned.
(I also think a lot about how thin the line is between horror iconography and what we say happens at church every week, and I appreciate — however messy — the way Midnight Mass really digs into the blood metaphor.)
Been Writing
Wasn’t a big fan of The Last Duel, the new Ridley Scott/Ben Affleck/Matt Damon/Adam Driver/Jodie Comer/Nicole Holofcener joint — atypically out of step with my critical colleagues on this one. I wrote about why.
One of my favorite films of the year, Mia Hansen-Løve’s Bergman Island, opened in theaters this weekend. So I wrote about it. (And ghosts.)
I’ve been working on a few other things — a roundup of films you shouldn’t miss, some background info on the potential IATSE strike (now seemingly averted, but still waiting for contract ratification), and some other things — but I had Monday and Tuesday off this week, so most of it’s still coming. Stay tuned!
Been Reading, and Watching
My buddy Steven Greydanus in Slate on Midnight Mass, which we just finished watching on Netflix. (Stay tuned for an episode of my podcast on that!)
I started watching My Unorthodox Life on Netflix this week to decompress, and it’s goofy in the way all those reality shows are goofy, but also kinda fun.
And now, some drama over (illegal) sprinkles.
Odds and Ends
I bought a “Cardamom Milk” candle from Otherland and have been burning it and Tom has declared it to be “the best candle I have ever smelled.” So. You know what to do.