After an au pair’s tragic death, Henry Wingrave hires a young American nanny to care for his orphaned niece and nephew who reside at Bly Manor. But all is not as it seems at the manor, and centuries of dark secrets of love and loss are waiting to be unearthed in this chilling gothic romance. At Bly Manor, dead doesn’t mean gone.

Spoilers for the first four episodes follow:

TERRY

I don’t know about you, Joe, but after covering Monsterland’s eight very heavy and depressingly real episodes, sliding into Mike Flanagan’s Gothic fairy tale world felt like coming up from a dive in an icy, bone-chilling lake. Flanagan’s recent films and series have a specific warmth to them…even when discussing very dark and icky subjects.

It’s fair to say I’m a huge fan of his work and, upon rewatch, I think The Haunting of Hill House is one of the best horror series I’ve seen. The way it tackled generational trauma and explored the ways family can fracture themselves and each other really resonated with me. It also felt sprawling, as each episode mostly tackled a specific member of the Crane family and explored their childhood and how it has affected them as adults.

In comparison, the first four episodes of The Haunting of Bly Manor feel very different and focus on a much smaller and contained set of characters. So far, it also mostly focuses on Dani Clayton (Victoria Pedretti), who fled from America to England to escape something and is now an au pair for the Wingrave family. She’s a haunted figure who covers mirrors and reflective surfaces because she’ll sometimes see the shadow of a nondescript man, whose eyeglasses shine a bright yellow light, standing behind her.

Once she arrives at the titular manor, we’re introduced to the rest of the main cast. There’s the two Wingrave kids, Flora (Amelie Bea Smith) and Miles (Benjamin Evan Ainsworth), the quiet and distracted housekeeper Hannah Grose (T’Nia Miller), the joyous (and very cute) chef Owen (Rahul Kohli, sporting the best mustache) and the cooly collected gardener Jamie (Amelia Eve). The first episode gently introduces us to the very self-contained world of Bly Manor and slowly unspools past mysteries and present haunts.

Unlike The Haunting of Hill House, Flanagan’s take on “The works of Henry James” feels, so far, like a faithful adaptation of The Turn of the Screw. It’s steeped in Gothic Romantic traditions, exploring ghosts and doomed love and the way the past has a way of threatening the present. We do get some flashbacks, mainly to Flora and Miles’ previous au pair Rebecca Jessel (Tahirah Sharif) who had a doomed love affair with Peter Quint (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) before supposedly drowning herself in Bly Manor’s pond.

If there is one complaint I have so far it’s that over the course of the first four episodes, The Haunting of Bly Manor seems to be keeping the characters at arm’s length from us, doling out just little tidbits of information. For example, our sweet chef was living in Paris before his mother got sick and forced him to come home to take care of her. Hannah, meanwhile, stares off into the distance and keeps vigil over four lit candles (representing the dead) in Bly’s own little church and Jamie...well, all we know about her is that she’s handy in the garden and she’s queer.

I’m sure this is absolutely intentional, but it hasn’t grabbed me on a character level as much as the first iteration. I’m honestly waiting for the show to pull the rug out from under us because, so far, it’s very traditionally a Henry James story.

What has immediately grabbed me is the spookiness of it all. It took me a while to warm up to the creepiness that Hill House was offering, but Bly Manor immediately grabbed me. Partly, I think it’s due to the setting. Whereas Hill House loomed ominous in the distance and the story used it sparingly, Bly Manor is, to borrow words from Owen, a “gravity well.” Aside from the occasional flashback, we seem to be stuck in Bly Manor and it’s both glorious and creepy. It feels like there’s no real respite from the house and its ghostly hauntings. The narrative uses Flora’s preoccupation with her dollhouse and the myriad of not right dolls inside it to set a freaky tone; it makes her warnings to Dani not to roam the house at night a sinister edge. Then there’s Miles and his too-adult way of talking to and interacting with Dani, watching her change in her room before she catches him or, later, whisking away an errant hair behind her ear.

But now that I’ve started us off, I want to turn it to you, Joe. What are your initial impressions on The Haunting of Bly Manor? Are you familiar with Henry James’ work or of the previous adaptations of The Turn of the Screw? At least some of the caretakers on the property have to be ghosts, yeah? Were you as attacked as I was by Hannah’s comment that “Gin is a sad drink”? And can you tell me what part of America Dani’s accent is actually from?

JOE

Oh the accents, Terry! I’ll confess that I struggled mightily in the first few episodes: not because I couldn’t understand them, but because they just don’t sound right! It’s a ridiculous thing to say, I know, but I kept getting taken out of the narrative by Pedretti’s meek overbite in the flashbacks or when Dani calls home and especially Bea Smith’s twee, too-cute-by-half repeated refrain of “perfectly splendid” (which becomes a kind of drinking game if you pay too close attention).

It settles down once we start to know these characters and become invested in their stories, but early on, I did find it a bit grating.

And that’s really what I found different early on compared to Hill House. Flanagan’s first spooky Netflix series has a much better hook right out of the gate and it’s also far scarier, with every frame full of ghosts. Bly Manor is playing an altogether different game: it’s a long con that sucks you into the unusual events that you can’t escape from because even in the flashbacks, there’s a kind of claustrophobia that we know will eventually drive its characters back to this estate. It’s more dreadful than scary, often veering dangerously close (in a good way) to melodrama. This makes sense given the source material.

I haven’t read James, but I’ve seen a few different film and TV versions of The Turn of the Screw, including this year’s The Turning, an interpretation by former music video director Florja Sigismondi (unlike a lot of folks, I don’t hate the film, particularly if you consider the atrocious non-ending as a prime example of studio interference). While that film benefitted from Sigismondi’s keen visual eye and fondness for sweeping camera movement, Bly Manor is proving to be far more of a slow burn. I wasn’t fully on board with the slowness in the first episode, but by episode four and the bonfire, I realized that I was desperately worried about everyone’s well being, particularly Hannah and Owen (whose reluctant burgeoning romance is swoon-worthy). I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised at how invested I’d become. The whole production has really snuck up on me.

And really, that’s the beauty of Flanagan’s TV output. I like his films a great deal, but his Netflix series confirm that when he’s given a longer period of time, his propensity for investigating the interior lives of his characters deepens. Unlike other creators <cough Ryan Murphy cough>, when Flanagan is given more time, he uses it to go deeper and his series benefit from the breathing room. In a film, the reveal that Dani is questioning her sexuality and is considering a relationship with Jamie would have had to happen early; by contrast, there’s barely a hint before episode three...aka 2.5 hours in.

With that said, am I chomping at the bit to learn more about all of these little dangling threads Flanagan has been setting up? Oh my gosh, I’m dying! In addition to the main mystery about Flora’s dolls and a possible haunting by Rebecca, there’s Hannah’s refusal to eat or drink, the mysterious appearing/disappearing cracks that she keeps seeing, the prank calls and yes, the inevitable reveal that at least one of these characters is likely already dead. That last fact is almost certain given Flora’s rumination about how “dead isn’t gone” in episode four after Owen’s mother dies.

So as we near the halfway point of the series, Terry, I wonder what you think is going on here? Are we in agreement that Peter is possessing Miles periodically? Do you have any thoughts on how the framing device, involving Flanagan fave Carla Gugino, fits into things? And if you had to place bets on who will live and who will die, who falls into each category?

TERRY

Joe, we’re absolutely in agreement that Peter is possessing Miles periodically. You get a sense of this with the different ways Benjamin Evan Ainsworth portrays Miles in each scene which creates a jarring disconnect. His character goes from having an outburst over wanting “an actual bloody drink!” to being serene and mildly confused when the subject is broached only a scene later. It also explains the way he’s far too sexual for his age in his advances towards Dani in some sequences and the much too self-satisfied air he has about him. Even if it’s not Peter, something is possessing him.

I do think an early clue as to what’s happening comes in the horror tradition of the classroom lesson Miles gets at boarding school before he does everything in his power to go home. In class, they are learning about a gospel involving demons, Jesus and a group of pigs. On the board, the teacher has written “Three Gospels / Three Accounts / Three Locations” while also noting the similarities and differences between how three different people accounted for the scene. What’s interesting, though, is that while there are differences in each telling of the story of Jesus sending demons into the swine...who then drown themselves in a lake...they each end exactly the same way.

So far, we’ve seen one tragic ending with the repeated flashbacks to the doomed romance between former au pair Rebecca Jessel and Henry Wingrave’s right-hand man Peter Quint, who smoulders as a combination of sex and bad news. This story ends, we’re told, with Rebecca drowning herself and Peter leaving town with £200,000 of Henry’s money. I have a sneaking suspicion that their romance isn’t the first time this has happened at Bly Manor; the camera, at one point, pans in on a name engraved in the floor of the Bly Manor Church: Viola Lloyd.

I’d hazard a guess this mysterious Viola might have also drowned herself in a doomed relationship. That would make our lovely Dani and Jamie a third piece to this puzzle: a third story, playing out at a different time...with the same results. Like the gospels discussed in the classroom, there will be similarities and differences...but the end result is possession, followed by death by drowning. Though, I think Dani might break the cycle this time around.

So that’s my long-winded answer to what I think is going on here, Joe. A story that has constantly played out in Bly Manor, starring different characters and relationships...but the same ending. Death and misery. It’d perfectly tie into the kinds of themes that the traditional Gothic Romance explores.

Like you, I’m positively enamored with the quiet romance developing between Owen and Hannah...but it concerns me that the only people who left the house for the funeral in Episode 4 was Owen and Jamie. You mentioned that even the flashbacks have a claustrophobic feel to them and this feeds into that. I’m concerned about the implications that Hannah, the kids and Dani couldn’t leave the property. Sure, the narrative came up with varying reasons for them not to go, particularly with the kids...but I’m pretty certain at this point that Hannah is a ghost.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it ends up that all of them are actually dead and are replaying a story, stuck in the “gravity well” of Bly Manor and Dani is the only one who’s alive. With Henry Wingrave being completely removed for the picture and the kids mentioning (even back in the flashbacks with Rebecca) that they haven’t seen nor heard from Henry, he wouldn’t even know they were potentially dead.

It’s far too early for me to make a prediction about the framing device involving Carla Gugino...however, I will say that upon a rewatch I find it interesting that when she walks into the rehearsal dinner that opens this series, a “Friend of the Family” played by Kamal Khan stops his toast to look at her. In Hill House, Flanagan used different actors for all of the young/old versions of his cast and while that obviously was necessary for the kids and adults, he did choose a different actor for Young Hugh Crain (Henry Thomas) and Old Hugh Crain (Timothy Hutton). So, at this point, all I can point out are the similarities between Carla’s The Storyteller character and Dani, as well as Kamal Khan’s unnamed character and Owen.

Like before, I might be solidly going off on wrong tangents, Joe...but those are my thoughts so far. Do you have any suspicions about what’s really going on in Bly Manor? What are your thoughts on Dani’s past, particularly with her fiance Edmund (Robby Attal) and how the ghostly figure haunts reflective surfaces around her? Do you think there’s something to the story that Miles acted out concerning puppets who didn’t know they were puppets and his line, “I’m poppet the puppet”? And have you noticed the life-sized dolls that not only seem to be the same as the ones in Flora’s dollhouse (including one that looks like a plague masked doctor?), but have been peppered throughout the dark house, hiding in the background a little less subtly than the ghosts of Hill House?

JOE

It’s interesting that you say that the ghosts are less subtly hidden, Terry. I feel like when we see a ghost, it’s quite obvious, but they haven’t been as front and center as Hill House. Considering the full dollhouse we see in episode four when Dani checks on Flora’s dollhouse, and I feel like we’ve barely scratched the surface of who could be seen (or show up). It certainly portends doom if we are to believe that each of those dolls has a corresponding spectre, though in Flanagan’s hands, I doubt all of them carry malicious intent.

That doesn’t apply to Peter, who is either working some black magic or he is another one of Bly Manor’s ghosts. This would explain why Miles is capable of being possessed by him, as well as that theatrical display about being a “puppet” (Peter is a braggart, so I have no doubt he’d use the boy to boast to a captive audience).

What’s fascinating is how many characters are lacking awareness of what is happening to them. This is another change of pace from Hill House where all of the adults seemed keenly aware - as least by adulthood - that the house was up to no good. Here the supernatural is constantly explained away as a symptom of grief, even by adults who ought to know better.

Perhaps it’s because they’re about adults, but I’ll confess that I found the flashbacks of Rebecca & Peter (episode 3) and Dani (episode 4) the most engrossing. I know that the domestic violence inflicted upon Rebecca by Peter isn’t particularly violent, but holy hell was his beratement of her about Owen’s “batter” ever uncomfortable. I almost wish that we hadn’t seen Oliver Jackson-Cohen in The Invisible Man earlier this year because otherwise his transformation from damaged junkie in Hill House to this monster would have been staggering. As it is, the combination of those looks, that accent (my earlier complaint does not apply here) and the constant threat of danger that surrounds him is...well, let’s just say that I want to shake some sense into Rebecca and simultaneously relate to her obsession very strongly.

As for Dani’s tragic story with Edmund...that definitely took an unexpected turn. Perhaps it’s because of the expectations set out by Peter and Rebecca in the previous episode, but for some reason I anticipated that Edmund would be an adversarial presence, not tied to Dani’s (sexual) guilt. I don’t think I’ve given Victoria Predetti enough credit for the work she’s doing on the series, but this episode - and particularly at the wake - she’s doing great work.

By this time Dani has survived the rigmarole of finally confessing to her long-term boyfriend/fiance that she doesn’t want to marry him, only to see him mowed down by a truck (hence the reflective glasses). To then have to stand in a procession of grief-stricken friends and family and be told repeatedly about how good a couple they were and how well she’s taking the loss? Oof. It’s no wonder she packed her bags and ran away to London shortly thereafter, but all the more heartbreaking that this tragedy ultimately pushed her back into the closet just as she was coming to grips with her sexuality.

Also: shout-out to that brazen dressmaker for making a move on a bride in front of her mother and mother-in-law to be!

As we head into the back half of the series, I’m very much on board with your theory, Terry. There’s certainly a feeling of cyclical violence and hauntings; and awareness of who has - and hasn’t - left Bly Manor is likely pretty symbolic. I, too, fear for Hannah, though I worry that if Flora and Miles are, in fact, dead, the series will be accused of emulating The Others. It’s likely that my lack of awareness of the source material is both helping and hindering here: I’m sure that audiences who are familiar with James’ novella have a good sense of what’s to come, but for now I’m happy simply to speculate and coast along episode by episode.

So that’s what we’ll do. I, for one, can’t wait to find out where this is all going and if Flanagan is setting us up for another character-driven, emotionally turbulent finale like Hill House. We have five more episodes of mysteries and answers left, which we’ll tackle on Queer Horror Movies shortly!