Midnight Mass

Tension builds as Midnight Mass tightens the screws of its plot under the viewer every episode. The characters knuckle under and the audience goes under with them.

As an allegory, Midnight Mass doesn't have anything particularly groundbreaking to say about religion as an opiate of the masses. That's okay; the power here lies in the profoundly human struggles faced by the faithful and the doubting Thomases in Father Paul's flock.

“Midnight Mass” moves from slow-burn to absolute fireball. Creepy becomes gory and then goes bonkers. The final two episodes of this seven-episode show are both hard to watch and impossible not to watch.

I'm telling you it's occasionally a laborious, frustrating undertaking (except when it's not), and, it absolutely must be mentioned, you're about to experience some truly ill-advised old age makeup (it serves a purpose, but big yeesh). But I'm also telling you to dive in anyway, because what you'll find on the other side is worth it.

If you give Flanagan’s new miniseries the time and respect it deserves, you’ll be treated to a soulful and gorgeously acted novel about what faith, religious or otherwise, means that concludes with a truly spectacular finale. Seen in its entirety, Midnight Mass is haunting, one of those shows that threatens to lurk in the corners of your mind and question your long-held beliefs long after you finish the last episode. But if three hours of buildup seems like too much, you may be better off rewatching The Haunting of Hill House.

Even though it’s is an original work from Flanagan, it feels like a high-level adaptation of a particularly haunting King novel.

It’s genuinely, thrillingly, unique and certain scenes and moments will live with you long after you’ve finished watching. One thing is for sure – Flanagan remains comfortably one of Netflix’s best assets.

Midnight Mass goes further than tension or thrills, presenting a dense and somehow hopeful epic that leans into the existential terror of being alive.

The goings-on get stranger and stranger, accelerating supernaturally, but to describe them would undercut the marvelous writing in “Midnight Mass,” which is often rich in spiritual and philosophical debate but has a cast that can make it all breathe and live.

Mike Flanagan chews thoughtfully on both religious and horror icons with his latest mini-series, resulting in a show that some might find more challenging than his Hauntings. But it’s ultimately heady material and an interesting new take on an old concept.

The dialogue is often stagey, and every character, whether they’re a priest or a teen, seems to have the same tendency toward speechifying. Yet after a slow first two episodes (pace being another common issue for not just Flanagan, but serialized horror in general), the show’s alchemy of spectacle, suspense and storytelling starts working. A binge becomes inevitable but also unexpectedly satisfying.

Flanagan loves his characters, as well as the cast playing them (many of which have worked with the director before), and he gives them all ample time to flesh out their arcs. ... While it may try your patience, it’s still a good yarn.

It’s heady, highbrow horror that, though talky, grows more engrossing the longer you stick with it.

Without Linklater, Midnight Mass would be a pretty good series. With him, it achieves moments of greatness.

More than faith in the events of the show, Midnight Mass requires faith in Flanagan and the seriousness of purpose within his Stephen King pastiches. Even if the miniseries doesn’t stick its frightful landing, its ecclesiastical eeriness is a thing worth mulling over, be you rapturous or a doubting Thomas.

[Flanagan's] prone to tangents that don’t serve the greater purpose and has a habit of underlining his ideas instead of trusting readers to unpack them. And yet he’s still such a consistently entertaining craftsman.

In terms of suspense, it’s certainly intoxicating to watch Father Paul give his homilies and to ponder their ultimate purpose, to what extent someone may or may not be pulling his strings, and if there’s more than just wine in the communion chalice. But after a while it comes to feel as if Midnight Mass is content to play footsies with us until its final act of revelation.

A couple of minor surprises are too easy to predict and there is a whole subplot about dead cats that doesn’t fit in. The series is doomed for ever to be almost great. When the end comes at last, there is a lot of fire and viscera, but no rapture.

As is often the case with such fare, Midnight Mass begins as a creepy, provocative horror yarn and finally can't deliver on its promise. Created by "The Haunting of Hill House's" Mike Flanagan, the Netflix series deserves praise for its distinctive ambitions and jolting surprises but too often plays like a long-winded sermon, frittering around the edges of its homily.

While some of the show’s themes are talked to death, others wither away, undeveloped. In trying to cram so many ideas into Midnight Mass, Flanagan has left himself with a jumble of mixed metaphors and overwritten soliloquies with not enough terror to cancel them out.

With a seven-hour runtime it has plenty of room to roam — too much, in fact — but at about the one-third mark the screenplay starts chipping away at the mysteries with some concrete, recognizable horror elements.