‘The Midnight Club’ series review: Mike Flanagan’s half-baked ode to the art of storytelling

Despite its hits, Flanagan’s expertise in unfurling human emotions at the height of supernatural extravagance does not reflect in the show

This Halloween, Netflix is turning the clock back with The Midnight Club, a horror-thriller adaptation based on a 1994 novel by the same name. Mike Flanagan, Netflix ’s prodigal horror filmmaker who has directed shows like The Haunting of the Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and Midnight Mass, is back and explores the concept of mortality using storytelling as a tool. While he has previously demonstrated his ability at blending the human and supernatural on the screen to manufacture worlds that leave us enraptured, he fumbles in his latest.

Sprawled over ten episodes, the show focuses on a group of terminally ill teenagers living in a hospice. Ilonka (Iman Benson), a teenager diagnosed with Thyroid cancer makes her way to the hospice when she convinces her foster dad that she intends on making peace with her imminent death. However, as she steps into the hospice, Ilonka follows in the footsteps of Julia Jayne, a patient with the same diagnosis as her who lived in the hospice and eventually got cured. Ilonka ventures on a path of herbal teas, potions, cults and pagan rituals to cure herself.

Simultaneously, the teenagers in their quest to make peace with mortality seek refuge in storytelling. The young adults meet at midnight to tell each other scary stories. In their stories, we find reflections of themselves as they make up ghosts, witches, and serial killers for their friends over a mug of wine. Through these stories, we see Flanagan flesh out their characters. Igby Rigney as Kevin, Ilonka’s love interest; Ruth Codd as Anya, Ilonka’s roommate and a troubled former ballerina; William Chris Sumpter as Spencer, the abandoned child suffering from AIDS; Annarah Cymone as Sandra, the devout Christian; Adia as Cheri, a pampered child of rich parents who never seem to make time to visit her; Aya Furukawa as Natsuki, a patient of cancer battling depression and Sauriyan Sapkota as Amesh, a video-game enthusiast make for great stubborn teenagers who are full of compassion for each other. However, their treatment on the screen might make them seem one-dimensional. The stories they tell are mini-adaptations of Pike’s novels dabbling in multiple genres including a hint of time travel.

The world-building in the first couple of episodes is exciting and convincing, however, midway through the show, one might find it tedious to continue as the format becomes monotonous. Moreover, what began as a clever exploration of mortality soon morphs into a lacklustre story interspersed with forgettable horror stories and predictable jumpscares; the liberal use of jumpscares almost defeats their purpose. In the first episode, with a total of 21 jumpscares, the show made it to the Guinness Book of World Records!

The show is also a celebration of chosen family. Watching the courageous teenagers extend compassion and kinship in the face of death is moving. Spencer, a gay kid in the 90s reconciling with his orthodox Christian mother and experiencing the joys of communal living with his friends keeps the spirits at bay and moves hearts.

Despite its hits, Flanagan’s expertise in unfurling human emotions at the height of supernatural extravagance does not reflect in The Midnight Club. The season finale, however, leaves enough space for a second season. One can hope he makes use of it to salvage the story.

The Midnight Club is currently streaming on Netflix.