Mike Flanagan’s best works are built on the hit-or-miss horror of his early experiments

polygon.com:

If you watch enough — or even just a few — Mike Flanagan productions, you’re bound to see some familiar faces. As Flanagan moves from each of his sensational horror worlds, a cast of players follow him, reslotting themselves into new set-pieces as a different sort of father, or a wayward teacher, or going from an estranged wife to a religious zealot. In Hollywood this is often a good sign; great directors have not only good ideas but healthy working relationships with their actors.

But it’s also indicative of Flanagan’s relationship to his own work: Watch enough (or even just a few) Flanagan projects and you’ll see the way he winds back to the same structures and themes, shoring them up and getting more confident with each pass. It’s no surprise that over the course of his career he’s become one of the great interpolators of our time, remixing horror classics with his own distinct spin and leaving a bit of his own spirit everywhere he goes. With each new work, you can see him not only working out those ideas, but digging deeper; where they were once the set dressing for his house of horrors, they’re now the core of what makes it all tick.

You can feel his hand on the wheel from the jump: Across his movies and shows, Flanagan loves an opening that puts you immediately in it, whether you understand what “it” is or not. Absentia, his Kickstarter-funded first full-length feature, gives a brief, haunting, and silent flash of a pedestrian tunnel, telling us almost nothing but inspiring dread nonetheless as it fades into darkness with the title card. As Midnight Mass starts, the camera holds on an ichthys decal catching the police lights after a drunk driving accident. It swiftly sets the tone for Mass’ exploration of the