Backseat Critic III: Review of "The Haunting of Bly Manor"

Love, Acceptance and the Elegance of Being Blatant 

Photo Source: ScreenRant.com

*Contains Spoilers*

Horror films and tv shows, for the most part, don’t bluff. 

They often display their repeated tropes blatantly, and fall into thematic categories earlier in their respective storylines than pieces belonging to other film genres. 

A group of teens go to a remote cabin, a naive character goes into a dark basement, killer animals of a given species wreak havoc, a vengeful spirit harbors resentment and is tied to a particular object or location, the list goes on. 

It’s almost as if horror directors consider it a badge of honor to be undeniably upfront in revealing the antagonizing force, but perhaps in the end it doesn’t really matter. As long as we lose ourselves in suspense or terror the creator’s mission is achieved. 

There are exceptions. Everyone remembers feeling their brain shatter the first time they watched The Sixth Sense, but with that being said, no one went to go see Jurassic Park realistically expecting to see anything other than dinosaur-fueled carnage... at least I hope not. 

Every once in a while audiences are graced with an idiosyncratic film or show that flips these tropes on their heads. One example is Cabin in the Woods, which exacerbates and toys with commonly used character archetypes within teen-centered horror movies to the point of comedy. By the end viewers are equal parts confused and amused. 

The Haunting of Bly Manor falls into this aforementioned enigmatic category. Based on the work of Henry James, specifically his novel The Turn of the Screw, Bly Manor at times fools its audience into thinking it's simply a paranormal haunting chronicle with high production value.

However, by the end of the nine episode series audiences are left feeling heartbroken and enchanted - essentially the polar opposite of what we are supposed to feel when watching a horror story, much less a show based on what has commonly been called the scariest book of all time. 

For those who haven’t watched the series and aren’t inclined to experience interest in watching titles within the horror genre, just know that Bly Manor is, at its core, a story about pain, acceptance, love and maintaining sanity in the face of certain demise. Periodic moments of fright are merely conduits to express the dark underbelly of our own self-criticism, shortcomings and fear of the unknown. 

Bly Manor, created by Mike Flanagan, emotionally unfolds as if it were playing the classic video game Pacman - changing direction at a moments notice and never going too far on one path. 

Horror, or more specifically, extreme uneasiness, is the common denominator in the background of the other projected emotions that play out across the course of the series.   

We learn of the story through a retelling by an unnamed narrator (Carla Gugino) at a wedding. After the first scene we don’t see the narrator until the final episode, so in many ways she, as a separate character, becomes forgotten. Her voice then provides a convenient device by which the show manipulates timelines and moves between scenes. 

The story begins in 1987 when a young lady, Dani (Victoria Pedretti), is interviewed for the position of au pair in a business office. She is an American living in England for unknown reasons. We learn that the man interviewing Dani is the uncle of the children, named Flora and Miles, who she would be looking after. We also learn that the children’s parents passed away, and the previous au pair hired before Dani had unfortunately passed as well. 

Most of us have been conditioned by horror stories to correlate these two red flags despite being superficially unrelated. At this point our inner voice tells us to walk and bolt faster than you can say “get the hell out.” 

Desperation has a funny way of making us overlook risk and ignore that voice inside our head telling us that something’s “off.” With little curiosity as to why these deaths took place, Dani, in typical horror trope naivety, continues to interview for the position.

The narrative of the job interview will ring familiar to many of us who have been job hunting due to the pandemic: the uncle’s decision is less dependent on Dani’s qualifications and more dependent on why she wants the position. She has years of teaching experience, yet the uncle, Henry (Henry Thomas), seems unconvinced that Dani actually wants the job and thus is unfit for the role. 

Through blunt and revealing conversation over a beer Dani convinces Henry to hire her, and she is then driven to the countryside estate by the hired chef, Owen (Rahul Kohli). 

We are left to wonder (for a few episodes) what kind of uncle would be so indifferent as to hire a staff to take care of his nephew and niece instead of looking after them himself. Alas, this is the second notion that stirs the classic horror saga feeling of uneasiness in audiences.  

From the minute I saw the sprawling victorian-style estate that is Bly Manor I thought I could see what was coming, and in some ways I was right. 

Anyone who is fond of horror films has seen plots consisting of haunted estate grounds, witnessed creepy spirits lurking throughout corridors, and has felt the inevitable eeriness exuded by a house that is far too big for its inhabitants.

This is largely why I found the first few episodes of Bly Manor rather spiritless (no pun intended). The execution is flawless and the acting incredibly believable, but I felt like I was watching a well articulated hodgepodge of other horror film plots with little content that felt truly original, or at the very least anything that would keep me thinking about the episodes after I was done watching (isn’t this the one undeniable sign that a film is great?).   

One of the highlights from the earlier episodes is the initial moment Dani displays romantic affection toward Jamie (Amelia Eve), the estate’s landscaper. The embrace caught me off guard due to the lack of archetypal build up, but then again does every romantic encounter need a parade of innuendos and sly commentary to portray built-up sexual tension? 

Their brief embrace is mutual, however notably brief. The experience is no doubt purposely put in the back pocket by Flanagan with the intent on developing the two’s connection later.  This is also the episode in which audiences are shown the real reason that Dani is in England. She’s running from her past and her inability to accept herself as well as her mistakes.  

Any feeling of disappointment I harbored during the earlier part of the series quickly dissipated during episode five. 

Audiences witness the evidently competent housekeeper Hannah Grose (T’Nia Miller) jump between timelines and memories within her head like a game of hopscotch to the point where even Pulp Fiction’s timeline starts to appear normal. 

Episode five is the point when Bly Manor begins to throw the classic tropes of the horror genre to the wayside and embrace the underlying character development to which the show had previously been alluding. 

Every device that the series deployed up to this point had been executed to perfection, but something was holding it back. I felt as if the show was walking through the motions. For instance, we discover that there is a faceless woman and boy lurking through the halls of Bly Manor without Dani’s knowledge, and although at times intensely disturbing, these eerie entities are nothing new to horror film audiences. 

We also discover that Dani’s blaring guilt, stemming from inadvertently causing her ex-fiance’s death, is the seed for continued scary encounters with the undead, but this cause and effect is hardly changing the cinematic wheel.  

Yes, Miles’ mature yet increasingly dark behavior toward Dani instills a disturbing sense of surrealness to the show that will cause goosebumps from head to toe, but the timeline and the other characters at Bly Manor fit neatly as ancillary aspects to an otherwise lackluster plot. 

Upon watching the fifth episode, when I witnessed Hannah reliving her first encounter with Owen multiple times and unable to pull herself out of the loop even as she realizes with clear consciousness that she’s experiencing a memory, it was as if the neurons of my brain responsible for claustrophobia and intrigue started firing on all cylinders simultaneously. The horror tropes that Bly Manor was falling into were beginning to rapidly transform and align closer with those of a psychological thriller such as Shutter Island.

“Why was she seeing the same crack in various walls? What did it represent? Why can’t she seem to pull herself into the present timeline? Is the present timeline even real?” My mind was racing. 

From here the information that is revealed to viewers begins flowing like water from a fire hose. 

“We’ve done this before,” Hannah states as she relives her first memory with Owen. It’s ironic, because up to this point viewers have seen this before. Call me pretentious, but the storyline was beginning to become bland as viewers would see a paranormal entity, experience a brief scare, and then go back to business as usual. 

That is, until that fifth episode. Owen’s entity in the memory clearly breaks cadence and pleads with Hannah in the memory that “something is wrong with Miles,” confirming the inclination that had been festering in the minds of viewers that this child is deeply disturbed. 

The latter half of the series explains the beginnings of the ‘curse’ put on Bly Manor by the “Lady of the Lake,” who we understand to be the faceless ghost of Viola Willoughby (Kate Siegel). The once ‘queen’ of the estate, Viola prevents deceased souls from leaving if they happen to perish on the grounds. 

Manipulation, deceit, murder and denial become reocurring acts over the next three episodes as characters realize they’ve already met their untimely demise but are unable to move on.  

There is no doubt that Bly Manor begins as a saga instigated by running away from feelings of guilt and terror; However, as a consequence of Dani both facing and accepting her past, and who she is (in particular her sexuality), love sprouts and blossoms in her life while fear takes a momentary backseat.

Dani pulls her own version of Lily Potter and sacrifices her own safety and sanity in order to save innocence, as represented by the young Flora. 

She is so desperate to save her own sense of innocence that was lost upon her ex-fiance’s untimely passing that she willingly, albeit initially unknowingly, invites Viola into her body in order to save Flora from being dragged into the lake, hence ending the curse Viola had over the present and past inhabitants of Bly Manor. 

Uncle Henry’s own standoff with his guilt and past mistakes spurs him to take ownership of his future and his behavior, and thus he decides to take custody of the children, leaving Jamie and Dani to pursue a new life together. Henry finally accepts his own wrongdoings and the current state of his family’s affairs, and without this acceptance he would never have moved on with his life. 

Unfortunately for Dani, her would-be happy ending is intercepted as she feels Viola lurking within her, but she is unsure of when Viola will bring her to the depths of the lake as she had with so many souls prior.

Nonetheless, Dani accepts this dreadful feeling within her and chooses to enjoy her time loving Jamie in their new life rather than dwell on the when and where of her demise. 

With regard to the show’s source material, much within James’ novel is left up for the interpretation of the reader. It is a purposeful creative decision upon which James apparently prided himself. 

The ambiguous nature of The Turn of the Screw has left many to believe that the horrible happenings were constrained to the au pair’s own head and that none of the disturbances were actually occurring. 

Unfortunately for Dani, Flanagan’s story leaves little for interpretation in regard to Viola being a very real entity. Sure, Jamie never sees this entity with her own eyes, but she also doesn't seem concerned to the degree that she would be if Dani was truly losing her mind. 

Life seldom has perfect, simple Hollywood endings, and Bly Manor is no different. Viola doesn’t let blossoming love remain in Dani’s life. The dismal fear and dread return in increasingly frequent increments like a cancer as her years with Jamie pass, and culminates with Dani unknowingly yet angrily holding a knife above a sleeping Jamie and determining after “waking” from a mind-controlled stupor that she had passed the point of no return. 

Rather than turn into someone she knew deep down she wasn’t and risk hurting her one true love, she decides to pass on her own terms without telling Jamie. 

The time had come, and Dani refused to throw away years of love to the evil chokehold that Viola would still have over her actions. She refused to slip away. It is a sobering conviction, but a necessary sacrifice in Dani’s mind. 

If Bly Manor was a true story and Viola was a real entity, I think the mental health medication and resources of today would have instigated a very long and sad decline of Dani’s consciousness and quality of life. The intent behind Dani’s quick decision is more telling than the death itself, and frankly admirable. 

Much like the Roman philosopher Seneca’s view of suicide by cutting one’s wrist in a bath, there is an undoubtedly noble aura to Dani’s decision. She doesn’t fall into the allure of self-proclaimed martyrdom against the forces of evil, she simply accepts her fate because it benefits Jamie.  

By this point in the series, anyone who was still cognisant of the initial wedding scene knew that at some point this series had to come full circle, and thus we return to the present day wedding as if the nine-episode story had been told in a single sitting to a visibly flabbergasted audience. It now becomes apparent to viewers that we weren’t experiencing just any love story, this was Jamie’s love story. 

At the end of the story Jamie, the narrator, is told by the bride-to-be (Flora) that she mislabeled her story because it contained a singular underlying emotion ever since Dani and Jamie first embraced - love. 

The Haunting of Bly Manor, despite all attempts at staying true to its horror trope, is indeed a love story. 

It is a story of implicit self reflection and explicit acceptance. The subtle ways in which nearly every character accepts their own fate by the end is endearing, and frankly within a society where no person or creation seems to flicker out without a bang (or a lengthy Instagram caption), Bly Manor provides an elegance in receiving the good and the bad without wavering. 

We all fall into tropes at one point or another, and not all of these tropes are positive despite superficial positive emotions. We lose our cool when we feel angry and this can lead us to feel depressed, or we display joy when our hard work pays off which can lead to arrogance. 

These tropes often cause us to get so caught up on an end goal or immediate feeling that we forget what is important if you strip everything else away - love. It is the one emotion that you would want to feel if you were in Dani’s situation, not knowing when the Lady of the Lake would drag you to the depths. 

But then again, we are all like Dani. We don’t know when the proverbial reaper will come. The best we can do is to love in the meantime. 

The Haunting of Bly Manor is one of the best shows to come out of 2020 because it is revealing in the way we all wish we could behave when presented with extreme discomfort. We all want to be Dani - loving, accepting, and composed in the face of evil and pain.   

There’s an undeniable truth to Jamie’s statement she makes to Dani, "One day at a time is what we've got. It's what everybody's got when you get down to it." 

So, as we navigate a world that’s increasingly layered with subterranean motives, technology, and politics let’s take a page from the tropes of horror movies, and let’s be blatant. 

Let’s be obvious and unchanging in the way that we love one another, because in the end it's all we’ve got.