Mike Flanagan has taken over the horror sphere for the past few years with Doctor Sleep (2019) and his Netflix shows The Haunting of Hill House (2018), The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020) and Midnight Mass (2021). His work has become a safe place for people to feel something, see themselves and get scared.
Not that I ever had any doubt, but Flanagan has done it again. The Midnight Club is his latest Netflix project and is an adaptation of Christopher Pike's novel of the same name. Flanagan uses Pike's The Midnight Club as the arc throughout the series, but during each episode, the characters are given their own stories, which are adapted from other Pike novels. This is similar to what Flanagan did in The Haunting of Bly Manor, which was mostly based on The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, with other novellas included to help flesh out the rest of the cast. As a result, we get fully realized characters.
Set in 1994, Ilonka (Iman Benson) is anticipating university and her life ahead before finding out she has thyroid cancer. Following her diagnosis, she is admitted to the Rotterdam Home Hospice and befriends other young patients, including Kevin (Igby Rigney), Anya (Ruth Codd), Spence (Chris Sumpter), Natsuki (Aya Furukawa), Sandra (Annarah Cymone), Amish (Sauriyan Sapkota) and Cheri (Adia). Every night, they meet in the hospice library to share ghost stories, make the others feel something and help one another feel less scared of death.
As the show continues, we get beautiful glimpses of these characters' upbringings and what brought them to Rotterdam. The ghost stories they tell exaggerate what each character has gone through, sometimes with a different ending to reality that lends a sense of catharsis that they haven't experienced in life.
While Flanagan only directed the first two episodes, his fingerprints are on every frame of the entire series. From the beautiful close-ups and shadows to the tension of wondering if you saw something move, it's pure Flanagan. Something that has become more prevalent in Flanagan's recent work is his use of monologues where his characters wax poetic about life, death, love and everything in between. The monologues in The Midnight Club aren't as heavy or intense as Flanagan's previous shows (Midnight Mass may be home to most of them), but they pack the same punch. They're always well-written, honest and genuine, with a free-flowing nature that makes each line feel like they're being discovered one by one. This also speaks to the cast's performances, which take these words and turn them into music.
At times, the show can come across as "Flanagan lite," which isn't an insult, but rather an observation of the director's changing style and how dark he has gone in the past. We aren't watching a traumatizing death scene, à la Doctor Sleep, or jump scares as intense as Nell appearing from the back seat of a car in Hill House (though this isn't for the lack of trying). Flanagan isn't afraid to dive into heavy topics or show us something gory, and as The Midnight Club deals with sick and dying teenagers, the show doesn't need the same intensity of horror.
Flanagan's latest might not agree with every viewer, but it'll feel like settling back home for those who grew up with shows like Goosebumps or Are You Afraid of the Dark? And for those familiar with Pike's novels, I think the show will do wonders for them.
The Midnight Club allows Flanagan and his usual cast and crew to try different things and slightly veer away from what we're used to seeing in his projects. Each episode delivers a different story, tackles different genres and has unique stylistic choices, such as aspect ratios changes from the library to a character's storyline.
Through The Midnight Club, Flanagan is showing love for young adult horror, acknowledging their importance while telling another beautiful story about incredible characters. Sometimes, his latest show feels like the scariest thing he has done and even the most emotional. He gives us heartfelt moments and scares while allowing catharsis and recovery to be found within those tears and jumps. The Midnight Club is another reminder that not only does Flanagan know how to provide us with something scary, but he can give also it an emotional weight not always found in horror.
(Netflix)Not that I ever had any doubt, but Flanagan has done it again. The Midnight Club is his latest Netflix project and is an adaptation of Christopher Pike's novel of the same name. Flanagan uses Pike's The Midnight Club as the arc throughout the series, but during each episode, the characters are given their own stories, which are adapted from other Pike novels. This is similar to what Flanagan did in The Haunting of Bly Manor, which was mostly based on The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, with other novellas included to help flesh out the rest of the cast. As a result, we get fully realized characters.
Set in 1994, Ilonka (Iman Benson) is anticipating university and her life ahead before finding out she has thyroid cancer. Following her diagnosis, she is admitted to the Rotterdam Home Hospice and befriends other young patients, including Kevin (Igby Rigney), Anya (Ruth Codd), Spence (Chris Sumpter), Natsuki (Aya Furukawa), Sandra (Annarah Cymone), Amish (Sauriyan Sapkota) and Cheri (Adia). Every night, they meet in the hospice library to share ghost stories, make the others feel something and help one another feel less scared of death.
As the show continues, we get beautiful glimpses of these characters' upbringings and what brought them to Rotterdam. The ghost stories they tell exaggerate what each character has gone through, sometimes with a different ending to reality that lends a sense of catharsis that they haven't experienced in life.
While Flanagan only directed the first two episodes, his fingerprints are on every frame of the entire series. From the beautiful close-ups and shadows to the tension of wondering if you saw something move, it's pure Flanagan. Something that has become more prevalent in Flanagan's recent work is his use of monologues where his characters wax poetic about life, death, love and everything in between. The monologues in The Midnight Club aren't as heavy or intense as Flanagan's previous shows (Midnight Mass may be home to most of them), but they pack the same punch. They're always well-written, honest and genuine, with a free-flowing nature that makes each line feel like they're being discovered one by one. This also speaks to the cast's performances, which take these words and turn them into music.
At times, the show can come across as "Flanagan lite," which isn't an insult, but rather an observation of the director's changing style and how dark he has gone in the past. We aren't watching a traumatizing death scene, à la Doctor Sleep, or jump scares as intense as Nell appearing from the back seat of a car in Hill House (though this isn't for the lack of trying). Flanagan isn't afraid to dive into heavy topics or show us something gory, and as The Midnight Club deals with sick and dying teenagers, the show doesn't need the same intensity of horror.
Flanagan's latest might not agree with every viewer, but it'll feel like settling back home for those who grew up with shows like Goosebumps or Are You Afraid of the Dark? And for those familiar with Pike's novels, I think the show will do wonders for them.
The Midnight Club allows Flanagan and his usual cast and crew to try different things and slightly veer away from what we're used to seeing in his projects. Each episode delivers a different story, tackles different genres and has unique stylistic choices, such as aspect ratios changes from the library to a character's storyline.
Through The Midnight Club, Flanagan is showing love for young adult horror, acknowledging their importance while telling another beautiful story about incredible characters. Sometimes, his latest show feels like the scariest thing he has done and even the most emotional. He gives us heartfelt moments and scares while allowing catharsis and recovery to be found within those tears and jumps. The Midnight Club is another reminder that not only does Flanagan know how to provide us with something scary, but he can give also it an emotional weight not always found in horror.