Vampires VI: Midnight Mass

Mesmerizing and heartfelt, Mike Flanagan examines the (un)holy trinity of alcoholism, Catholicism and vampires

Be Not Afraid

Midnight Mass comes from the creative vision of Mike Flanagan, also known for The Haunting of Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, The Fall of the House of Usher, Gerald's Game and much more. He's established himself as a household name when it comes to the on-screen horror genre, deservedly so for how his shows stand out amongst the mass of mediocre streaming content these days.

But today I'm writing solely about Midnight Mass (full spoilers, go watch it first if you like), which was a deeply personal, meditative project for Flanagan. He shares in this essay that he both grew up Catholic in a small island community and has struggled with alcoholism. The show gives him a way to explore both his frustration with those fundamentalist, sometimes fanatical religious beliefs and his "worst, most ingrained anxiety: not that I would die because of my drinking, but that I would kill someone else… and live."

And if you've seen the show, you know how deeply ingrained these ideas are to its entire seven-episode run. It works in no small part thanks to its incredibly talented cast, who to a person make you want to root for this town, this community (even the most evil human character is empathetic in her way) – at least until the narrative demands otherwise.

Midnight Mass Fan Poster, by shalida

This is my sixth article on vampires; you can find my previous posts here:

• Part I examines vampires for their allusions to our societal threats and fears

• Part II flips the perspective, exploring how vampire experiences reflect our own

• Part III questions the nature of vampire souls; related to art, redemption and more

• Part IV engages with The God of Endings and its themes of immortality & intervention

• Part V focuses on Let Me In's recontextualization of the monstrous and our relationships

Now to St. Patrick's Catholic Church, Crockett Island.

Second Chances

The premise behind Midnight Mass' narrative is utterly brilliant: aging Father John Pruitt meets an angel while on pilgrimage near Jerusalem, restoring his youth and giving him a second chance at life. He then returns to Crockett Island (affectionately called the 'Crock Pot'), taking on a new name so as not to overwhelm, and begins performing miracles thanks to his newfound faith.

He is eminently likable (actor Hamish Linklater is brilliant in the role), even as we watch his religious convictions jostle with protagonist Riley Flynn's experienced view of the world – Flynn being Flanagan's representative in the story, an atheist and recovering alcoholic whose addiction killed someone. The show doesn't shy away from its monologues, but Riley's to Pruitt, at the suggestion that God can work even through suffering, is one of the best:

Riley and Father Pruitt have each been given a second chance at life, and I believe they have each dedicated themselves to doing better by their friends, family, community and the world at large – most notable with Riley reconnecting with Erin, and Pruitt hoping to make a new life with Mildred and their secret daughter Sarah.

But where Riley has found his footing in reason and empathy, Pruitt has put all his blind faith and devotion into the idea that God sent an angel to personally help him and his community. Surely blind fundamentalist faith never hurt anyone, right?

Over the course of the show it is slowly revealed: that Pruitt's "angel" shares a lot in common with your average vampire; that he smuggled it back to Crockett Island with him; and that the source of his "miracles" has been parishioners drinking its blood mixed with the communion wine.

Already I think that's among the most powerfully subversive imagery I've seen, yet Flanagan also brilliantly weaves alcoholism in with the idea of a second, ever-thirsty self within us (from the first video above).

I believe Pruitt only ever had the best of intentions, even if he was deeply deluded in how he sought to pursue them. He was offered salvation in his darkest moment, and he took it. When he realized he had a second chance at life – which he might also extend to his lover and their daughter – he welcomed it with open arms.

When presented with an apparent answer to a lifetime of faith, with everything he had yearned for, it's hard to imagine choosing that moment to turn a critical, discerning eye. And once bought in, it only becomes harder to ever turn back. It's a harrowing reflection of the pain caused by self-righteousness and organized religion, made all the more powerful by the way ever-faithful Bev Keane takes Pruitt's revelations and runs with them. (I'll save Bev's descent for another time.)

Midnight Mass Poster, by VelvetHandDesigns

Choosing the Light

I mentioned in my previous Vampires post that I had a little more to say about Virginia from Let Me In, turned into a vampire by Eli's interrupted attack on her and from whose perspective we get the description of the hungry, snake-like organism within, representing her condition.

Virginia spends the hours of her transformation alone and terrified. Her thoughts constantly return to her daughter and infant granddaughter, deeply missing them but, eventually, also experiencing hunger as she pictures them. Weakened and starving, Virginia eventually manages to expire in the dawning sun, choosing the lives and wellbeing of others over the shadow of life bestowed upon her.

I know, an odd time to return to the topic of an old post. It's just that Riley Flynn also ends up transformed against his will, given the blessing of a second chance by Father Pruitt. He suddenly finds himself utterly dependent on blood, violent and without control at the prospect of feeding. This 'second chance' is just alcoholism again, not the sober existence he chose for himself.

So like Virginia, he rejects it.

Riley has spent the show acting as skeptic to Pruitt's believer not out of hate or spite, but because his understanding of goodness and empathy were in conflict with Catholic doctrine. Faced with outright evidence of evil in the form of a literal vampire, Riley makes the selfless choice while Pruitt can't bear to admit that his faith was misplaced.

The whole show is littered with biblical quotes, many of which are hilariously reframed to make the town's transformation into vampires sound like the truest interpretation of scripture. I can't argue for why Riley's (in a final letter to Pruitt) should overrule the dozens used by Bev and Pruitt in a spiritual sense, but it's perfect nonetheless: "For you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

Midnight Mass Minimalist Poster, by Kaitlynn Heide

Silence & Stillness

Riley's warning helps Erin and Sarah (possibly my favourite version of Van Helsing yet) prevent the spread of vampirism beyond the island – though Pruitt himself ultimately burns the church, recognizing his wrongs and denying the vampires their final shelter.

The show ends with the entire island aflame and its transformed inhabitants burning in the dawning sun; the only survivors are Riley's brother and Leeza, healed by the angel's blood but never killed and resurrected, so safe from the light. But there is no triumph in their survival, only horrified and confused shock at the utter waste and desolation.

Many of the stories I've looked at in this series engage with the idea that vampirism might be worth the price, if you can continue to make the world a better place given a second chance. That certainly seems to be Pruitt's belief, if a little tainted by conviction. Midnight Mass makes clear that such ideas are an incredibly slippery slope, and I think many of those other stories would agree.

What's a good moral here? Maybe something about great power & responsibility? That mindfulness and empathy are key to ensuring we are acting for good in the world? To sniff the communion wine for hints of iron? To appreciate a good sunrise when you're feeling down? Probably all good, to some extent or another!

Thanks so much for reading, until next time <3