‘The Fall of the House of Usher’ — A Monumental, Poetic Masterpiece Dipped in Edgar Allan Poe's Macabre
Mike Flanagan marks the end of an era with a bang.
One of the last truly influential and beloved auteurs (whose work drew in millions of viewers every year) bringing original visions to Netflix has been Mike Flanagan. Now, he’s gone, too. And to make his departure (after six years) from the streaming giant all the more devastating of a blow, he bids farewell with a goddamn masterpiece, The Fall of the House of Usher. (If I were in the shoes of Netflix execs, I would've promised him the stars and beyond even if I had to cancel a dozen other projects to make him stay.)
Based on the works of Edgar Allan Poe, Flanagan has created another impressive mini-horror-universe that tonally differs from everything he's done before. Yet it’s a story that allows him to flex his skills as a writer-director whose craft and dedication to the genre remain indisputable. Usher is a sexy wet dream of beautiful and corrupt human ravens made for every devoted fan and casual horror lover.
This time, Flanagan turns the spotlight on a repulsively wealthy family — telling the rags to riches origin story of Roderick (Bruce Greenwood) and Madeline Usher (Mary McDonnell) — and how they hijacked the Fortunato pharmaceutical company in the 1970s to build an empire out of selling highly addictive opioids (just like the real-life inspiration Sacklers did). The creator mines Poe’s work to create a base, but the magic comes from how he makes it blossom into a dark and intricate tale of corruption, privilege, and greed. Here, the mystery somewhat overrides the horror and ends up being the main driving force of the narrative that’s just as captivating as it is gruesome.
As the Usher patriarch’s children start dying horrific deaths without reasonable explanation, we follow along with him and his sister to investigate who wants and causes their demise without leaving a trace. Naturally, we have to go back to the not-so-humble beginnings and dig around in the past to uncover who’s responsible for wiping out the offspring one by one. Recounting the events of the family’s “success story,” a slightly frightened Roderick reluctantly exposes the truth to his long-time frenemy, Auguste Dupin (Carl Lumbly from Doctor Sleep), who’s leading the lawsuit against the Ushers with an unwavering determination to finally nail and put them behind bars where they belong. But the walk down memory lane is haunted by the ghosts of the Usher kids, revisiting their father in grisly visions, to remind him of his hideous sins they all had to suffer and die for.
There are various moving pieces in the plot of The Fall of the House of Usher, but Flanagan proves once again that he’s a masterful conductor of wielding multiple storylines and characters effortlessly into a coherent whole. There isn't a piece of dialogue, costume, or gesture that doesn't tie into the big mystery. Everything you see and hear is connected, and even the tiniest details gain meaning before the curtain comes down. Of course, for this to have a powerful impact from the get-go, Flanagan creates a mesmerizing gothic atmosphere dripping with blood and oozing sex appeal, fused together with just the right amount of gore that will make horror enthusiasts lick their fingers after each episode.
But Usher’s approach is different from the usual "Flanaverse” style. Since the focus is on a bunch of antiheroes, Flanagan lets himself be more playful (and at times cynical) with narrative ideas and sneaky jumpscares. There are some nasty in-your-face freights throughout (the clown!), but the most effective scares quietly linger in the background, feeding our restless and slowly growing unease while piling up on the protagonists’ nerves. It’s no small feat to meet high expectations after the masterfully crafted The Haunting of Hill House and Midnight Mass, but the creator pulls off every dreadful kill with confidence and creativity like a true horror magician.
Yet the most disturbing acts that truly fuck with one's soul are committed by voracious and power-hungry humans. There's a moral brokenness in every member of the Usher family, and Flanagan's primary incentive (beyond honoring Poe's legacy) is clearly to study and expose them all. Greed and privilege cost lives (literally and figuratively), and those who acquire wealth through immoral and sinful means will have to pay a price — souls aren’t free, even if they’re rotten. Usher is as much a cautionary tale as it is a contemplation on punishment, and its triumph comes from lining up the two next to each other as something inseparable and embracing them with devilish fun. There's no one to root for here, but that doesn't mean we can't find value and delight in watching these people suffer and inevitably fall victim to their own wickedness.
Accomplishing all that greatness, however, wouldn’t have been possible without a star-studded cast filled with “Flanaverse” regulars and a few new additions. Being the most beloved and celebrated actress in Flanagan’s work, Carla Gugino has the most chance of becoming the fan-favorite in Usher. Playing a mysterious and deadly attractive woman, her performance is a culmination of all her previous roles. As a goddess of seduction and death, she hits it out of the park with this one, being more in tune with herself at 52 than ever before in her career. But to me, the real MVP is Bruce Greenwood (a recast of Frank Langella), who cements the Netflix show by capturing the lead with stone-cold certainty and charismatic bravado. He embodies the domineering and ruthless persona of an evil magnate desperately conspiring to escape his own fate.
But I could also write another hundred accolades about the rest of the cast. Mark Hamill is perfect as the family's gloomy lawyer (aka the Pym Reaper), Mary McDonnell could freeze anyone with her aura, and Willa Fitzgerald’s amoral bitch will surely land her dozens of great roles in the future. And the kids — Henry Thomas, Kate Siegel, Rahul Kohli, Samantha Sloyan, T’Nia Miller, and Sauriyan Sapkota — are just as delightfully abhorrent and amusing as Logan Roy’s in Succession.
It's far from the truth that Mike Flanagan can do no wrong (see The Haunting of Bly Manor or The Midnight Club), but when he gets it right, the result is usually astonishing. The Fall of the House of Usher is one of those occasions, a monumental and poetic effort dipped in Poe’s macabre, which will undoubtedly earn a place in the pantheon of the best horror shows ever made for television.
All 8 episodes of The Fall of the House of Usher are streaming on Netflix from Thursday, October 12.
Earlier this week, I reviewed Peacock’s unscripted anthology series, John Carpenter’s Suburban Screams, an interesting mix of true crime and horror that ultimately fails to fulfill its potential. And there’s still more to come at The Screen to celebrate Spooky Season, so watch out for your inbox in the coming weeks.
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