TV Review: "The Fall of the House of Usher"

The new series from Mike Flanagan is a fitting capstone to the creator's stint at Netflix.

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been a big fan of Mike Flanagan’s work with Netflix since I watched The Haunting of Hill House. I was even more blown away by both Bly Manor and by Midnight Mass, the latter of which I regard as one of the best horror series I’ve ever seen (despite its tendency to indulge in soliloquies too much). Imagine my delight when it was revealed that he was producing a new series focused on the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and let me assure you that the film does not disappoint.

The first episode establishes the general narrative outline: twins Roderick and Madeline Usher have built a powerful business empire built on both narcotics and tech. They have been steadfastly opposed by C. Auguste Dupin, a lawyer determined to bring the corrupt family to justice. Roderick, suffering from vascular dementia, summons Auguste to his house so that he can relate the circumstances of his family’s demise. 

 Each subsequent entry details the demise of one of the Usher children, all of whom perish in a manner evoking some work of Poe’s: Prospero dies during a hedonistic and debauched celebration gone awry; Camille is brutally mauled by a test chimpanzee; Leo is driven mad by a black cat and ultimately plummets to his death; Victorine stabs herself in the heart after killing her partner and failing to resurrect her using a heart device; Tamerlane dies after smashing an overhead mirror; and Frederick is killed by a swinging piece of debris after getting trapped in a building during its demolition. And, of course, there is the climactic final episode, in which Madeline–partially mummified by Roderick–emerges from her immurement to strangle her brother, while the house literally falls down around them. 

As with both Bly Manor and Midnight Mass, Flanagan makes a point of drawing in a great deal of queerness, and in fact House of Usher might be his queerest outing yet. Even though three of the Usher children–Camile, Victorine, and Leo–are explicitly shown with partners of the same sex, they suffer from their father’s toxic attitude toward others. Their romantic and sexual partners are there for their gratification and nothing else, and they each show themselves more than willing to use and abuse anyone, so long as their needs are fulfilled. However, this is less a reflection of their queerness and more a reflection of  their tainted bloodline and the sins of their father (and aunt). 

Also like his former outings–but particularly with Midnight Mass–there are times when The Fall of the House of Usher indulges in too much talkiness, with various characters declaiming their intentions and philosophical beliefs at one another. I will give Flanagan credit, however. While these moments can sometimes arrest the forward movement of the narrative, they do at least give some grounding to the horror. He’s not afraid to make use of a jump scare, and there are some viscerally horrifying moments–the moment when Prospero’s masque turns grotesque when acid rains from the ceiling–but there’s an emotional and philosophical heft to the tale that keeps you invested in these characters, even as you know their doom is inevitable. 

And what performances! Everyone in this series is perfectly cast, both those who have been part of Flanagan’s other productions and those who are new. Samantha Sloyan brings her usual frail intensity to the character of Tamerlane Usher, an lifestyle entrepreneur who browbeats her husband into serving her own fantasies. Flagan regulars Henry Thomas, Carla Gugino, Kate Siegel, Zach Gilfrod, Rahul Kohli, and T’Nia Miller are as delightful as always, as is Carl Lumbly (who plays the elder version of Dupin). For me, though, the standouts are Bruce Greenwood (who plays an elder and very jaundiced Roderick), Mary McDonnell (who plays the elder version of the icy and downright sociopathic Madeline), and Mark Hamill (who is suitably scene-stealing and scenery-chewing as corrupt lawyer Arthur Pym). Even if nothing else in this series worked, the performances would be more than worth the price of admission. 

Like several other recent horror outings–I’m thinking in particular of American Horror Story: NYC–The Fall of the House of Usher largely eschews the allegory and displacement typical in the horror genre and just goes right for the jugular. The series is, more than anything else, a scathing indictment of the rich and the wealthy and the powerful, the tech bros and pharmaceutical CEOs and others who think that their good fortune and money entitles them to do whatever they like with the lives and fortunes of everyone else in the world. For make no mistake: the Ushers’ rise to power has nothing to do with their own brilliance (though there’s no question that Madeline, at least, is a stone-cold genius). Instead, it can all be attributed to the timely intervention of Verna, a mysterious entity who offers them both the chance to achieve their wildest dreams, so long as their bloodline ends and they die together. It’s a devil’s bargain, and both Roderick and Madeline grasp it with both hands. 

As it turns out, however, good luck ends up being a double-edged sword, particularly once the death of Roderick’s children moves out of the realm of the abstract and into the material world of reality. Greenwood brings a palpable sense of grief and despair, particularly once his granddaughter Lenore, the only good member of the family, is done in by Verna (who has also orchestrated the deaths of the other Usher children). It’s this death which seems to undo him and drive him to madness, and his final act before summoning Dupin for his confession is to embalm Madline while she is still alive. 

Though there is an undeniable pleasure in seeing a group of wealthy assholes get what’s coming to them, there’s also something tragic about the downfall of the younger generation. None of them asked to be born into this deeply dysfunctional family, two of whom made a devilish deal without their consent. Lenore’s death is the most painful of them all, even if Verna softens the blow by telling her that her demise will inspire her (severely injured) mother to start a charity foundation, one that will do enormous amounts of good in the world. She is the very exemplar of the creative destruction that is one of the prevailing sentiments among the world’s wealthiest people.

Overall, The Fall of the House of Usher is a fitting sendoff to Flanagan’s time at Netflix. He manages to draw on the best of what makes Poe so compelling, even as he makes him relevant to a whole new generation of readers. Like all of the best horror filmmakers, he manages to make the genre, already so attuned to the concerns and anxieties of culture, even more biting and insightful. This is a series that is a treat from beginning to end, managing to be both lyrically literary and viscerally disturbing. I can’t wait to see what Flanagan does next.