“You know what they say, ‘Man plans, God laughs.’”
Considering the bloody chaos it ends in, the beginning of the penultimate episode of Midnight Mass is eerily quiet. The sun has fully risen, and Erin (Kate Siegel) now sits in the boat in shell-shocked silence. Riley is gone, a pile of ashes and scraps of clothing, and heartbreakingly, an empty pair of boots. Boots that would have been worn to do hard work, if he had been given a second chance.
The first half of the episode is a series of heartbreaks. Ed (Henry Thomas) wakes to a goodbye letter from Riley, warning him about “Father Paul” (Hamish Linklater) and what’s to come. It’s crazy talk, and a distraught Ed goes to Father Paul without telling Annie (Kristen Lehman), convinced that Riley has had some sort of breakdown and may have gone off somewhere to commit suicide. Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt, in his most truly cold-blooded moment, lies to Ed, tells him that his fears about Riley having some sort of mental health crisis are correct, but also reassures him that maybe he’s okay, perhaps on the mainland clearing his head.
Of course, though he doesn’t know the how or the when, Pruitt knows that Riley is dead, and he’s heartbroken too. Heartbroken, and even a little offended that Riley would choose death over such an extraordinary gift. How can one interfere in God’s will like that? Bev (Samantha Sloyan), for her part, shrugs off Riley’s death in her typical smug way, concerned only with who he might have told about the gift beforehand. At this point, even Pruitt looks like he’s getting tired of Bev, who operates as a machine which you put a coin in, and self-serving scripture comes out. Nevertheless, he agrees with her suggestion that they get the show on the road and start spreading the good news, setting it for the Easter vigil.
With mere hours left on her side, Erin attempts to talk Annie out of attending the Easter vigil, inviting her, Ed, and Warren to take a ride to the mainland. Annie is puzzled at this (after all, the Easter vigil is the event of the year on Crockett Island, as sad as that sounds) and politely declines. When she asks Erin to pass on a message to Riley, who as far as she knows just decided not to come home, Erin blurts out that Riley is dead.
It’s the only time we see the gentle, loving Annie flare up in anger, accusing Erin of playing a cruel prank on her, but upon rewatch, it’s another little heartbreak: she knows she’s telling the truth. It’s in that pause before she lashes out, as her brain processes what Erin has just told her, and then immediately shuts it down. Though she’s up to this point maintained a hopeful attitude, Annie’s been through a lot: Riley’s accident, her family’s fishing business dwindling down to almost nothing, the little town she loves decaying right in front of her. This moment of anger, even if it’s ridiculous that Erin of all people would play this kind of “joke,” is her brain doing her a favor: nope, not this time. Whatever chance Erin had of getting her off the island in time is gone in an instant.
“Brothers and sisters, you are so close to salvation.”
Meanwhile, Dr. Sarah (Annabeth Gish) has been running tests on both Erin’s and Mildred’s (Alex Essoe) blood, watching it boil in the sun and then burst into flames like an unwatched pot on a stove. So she has little difficulty believing Erin’s story about both what happened to Riley, and what may have caused it. Unfortunately, her attempt to seek help from the perpetually exhausted Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli) proves fruitless, and his explanation as to why he won’t look into what might be going on at St. Patrick’s is made all the more poignant by the fact that he hates having to turn Dr. Sarah away.
Sheriff Hassan and his tiny family didn’t come to Crockett Island for the easy living and sea air. They came there because in a post-9/11 world he was no longer welcome in his job as a New York City police detective. They came there because, following Hassan’s wife’s hard death from cancer, he needed something completely different, a low-stakes position in law enforcement in a place where little enforcement is required.
And even though he lives quietly and bothers no one, people like Bev Keane, good white Christians, still look at him with distaste, and treat him like an unwelcome guest. Even if babies were being eaten at St. Patrick’s, Hassan stepping through the doorway there with anything other than an intent to give his life over to Jesus Christ would result in chaos, and Ali losing another chance at something approximating a normal life.
Dr. Sarah, a different kind of outsider, understands Sheriff Hassan’s position and doesn’t push. They both end up at St. Patrick’s that night anyway, when Hassan gives in to Ali’s (Rahul Abburi) pleas to join him at the Easter vigil. There’s going to be a “big surprise,” according to Ali, and anyhow, the power’s gone out, what else is he going to do, sit in the dark?
The candlelight emanating from St. Patrick’s seems to be drawing the whole town in, both church regulars and those who only attend during holidays1. Even though she swore she wouldn’t return, Mildred is there too, along with Dr. Sarah and Erin, refusing to hide in the face of potential danger, and responding in just the way Riley expected her to, by worrying about other people before herself.
“As for the rest of them, let God sort them out.”
I won’t do a play-by-play recounting of what happens during the Easter vigil, but I’ve thought about it a lot. I believe in the possibility of miracles. I’m open to the idea of such things. Nevertheless, if I saw someone drink a fatal dose of poison and then be “resurrected,” I’d assume there was tap water in that cup. I’d think it was trickery, the work of someone looking to collect some quick cash in their “donation plate” before running off to the next group of gullible rubes. I don’t know that there’s anything that would convince me otherwise.
But the sort of mass hysteria combined with religious mania that overtakes the St. Patrick’s parishioners is not uncommon. Sure, it doesn’t result in people turning into vampires, but that’s only because vampires don’t actually exist. I don’t think I’m any smarter than the people this happens to: maybe I just haven’t heard the right spiel yet. I could make a joke that Hamish Linklater could talk me into doing just about anything, but the truth remains: none of us are fully above not recognizing when a hand is leading us down the road to Hell.
I’m certainly not the first person to note the haunting (and likely intentional) similarities between what happens at St. Patrick’s and what happened at Jonestown. The taking of poison that causes an agonizing death. The preacher imploring his followers not to be afraid to die. The true believers forcing it onto those who have doubts. The chaos that ensues. The preacher is even shot in the head, just like Jim Jones was. That’s Mildred’s doing, and she’s almost immediately swept away by the Angel, furious that she’s interfered in its dark work.
It’s funny that though Bev all but gleefully claps over Sheriff Hassan’s anguish at Ali’s “conversion,” when the time comes for her conversion she hides instead, watching everything unfold before taking that last step herself. It’s a massive middle finger to the community she claims to selflessly serve in the name of God: let’s see how this all works out for you before I do it myself. When she does eventually transition, thanks to Erin just shooting her, she’s reborn not with wonder and gratitude, but with hate and vengeance. Her gift isn’t a second chance at life, but to stop pretending, to be able to show people who she really is.
We always called them “A&P Catholics,” for “ashes and palms.”