I came out the same year as The Haunting of Hill House, and it was as if Mike Flanagan handed me a gift for realizing I love women. I was hooked immediately.

Flanagan was my reintroduction to horror after being scarred my whole life by my Mom showing me It, Signs and An American Werewolf in London as a kid. The Haunting of Hill House made me feel excited to be scared, and I felt sexy and smart watching it. I feel the same about every TV show he’s written, and for that reason, every year starting on October 1, I rewatch each of his shows.

If there’s one thing Mike Flanagan is going to do, it’s write some of the best queer characters and storylines I’ve ever seen on television. This is an impressive feat for a straight cis man but totally makes sense when you look at his most frequent collaborators: his bisexual wife, Kate Siegel, and his trans sibling, Jamie Flanagan. Beautifully written queer characters with complex storylines are hard to find on television, and even more so in the horror genre. Not many writers care to figure out how to write a queer character without severely victimizing, villainizing, or fetishizing them. Flanagan treats his queer characters with care, and so does his team of recurring actors, and his projects greatly benefit from it.

Not only has Flanagan established himself as a horror icon, but his queer fans regard him as a queer icon, too. I say “queer” specifically because Flanagan’s projects don’t just feature white, cis gay men. They include lesbians, bisexual men and women, and queer youth, all of whom are complex outside of their sexuality. Through both major plot points and subtle details, Flanagan finds ways to honor and celebrate the queer experience, all while scaring the shit out of us — whether with ghosts or sapphic heartbreak or having to come out to your Christian mother.

For Horror Is So Gay this year, I wanted to pay my respects to the Flanaverse and all its queerness, so I’ve decided to rank each of his TV shows by queerness. Now, some of you may disagree with me, and I encourage you to… let me know what you think or how you would rank the shows in the comments!

Note: My rankings will only be taking into account the actual TV series and what you can see on-screen, not the subtext, references, inspirations, or original source material.

One more note: This piece contains many spoilers for all six of the TV shows.

5. Midnight Mass (2021)

Midnight Mass is the least queer Flanagan show, and even then, it is undeniably queer. The entire story is rooted in religious trauma, or at least how religion is used to create trauma, which so many of us can relate to. The only out queer character in Midnight Mass is Dr. Sarah Gunning, who’s played by Annabeth Gish. Dr. Gunning is the only doctor on Crockett Island and therefore plays a very important role to the community. Despite this, she’s felt ostracized her whole life, particularly because of the treatment she received from Monsignor Pruitt growing up, and later, as an out lesbian, Father Paul. Dr. Gunning’s relationship to the religious leadership in her tiny community, and specifically her feeling that she’s always being watched and judged, is something a lot of us can relate to. But Midnight Mass is not about how religion is evil or homophobic; it is about how humans abuse religious text and power to do harm unto others.

Because Dr. Gunning grew up thinking she was being watched, and therefore found out, by Monsignor Pruitt, she does not have the same relationship with the church as her friends and neighbors. She does not receive communion or drink the wine at mass like everyone else does because of her queerness. Or, so she thinks. And as a result, she becomes one of the few people on Crockett Island to avoid death by vampiric blood. But because this is Flanagan and this is horror, Dr. Gunning’s queerness does not ensure her survival; it simply allowed her to die a hero. And also because this is Flanagan, we of course learn Dr. Gunning didn’t feel othered her whole life because of her queerness after all, but because she is Monsignor Pruitt’s daughter.

4. The Haunting of Hill House (2018)

As I mentioned in my introduction, The Haunting of Hill House was released the same year I realized I was queer, and it played a beautiful role in that self discovery. Theodora Crain came into my life with those damn elbow-length gloves and sent me into one of my first queer panics. Theo may be the only out queer character in the series — outside of her lover, Trish, and that one bridesmaid she fucked — but the whole show feels so gay because of Siegel’s characterization and how significant Theo’s emotional narrative is to the series.

I was also partly outed to my family because I was caught fucking a girl. The moment where Nell and Steven catch Theo coming out of the room with the bridesmaid feels like the way my own brother and sister would react to me in that situation. Some giggles, looks of disbelief, but ultimately a hug and awkward “congratulations.” Even the moment where Shirley finally puts two and two together while watching Theo dance with the bridesmaid feels like such an authentic big sister moment. There isn’t judgment because Theo is queer or because Shirley is homophobic, but rather we get that classic eldest daughter’s judgment of “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” and “I can’t believe you’re doing this at your little sister’s wedding.”

What touches me most about Theo’s queerness in HiIl House is the moment in the present-day timeline where Hugh Crain is back with the kids for Nell’s funeral. He’s getting himself adjusted to the tragic occasion of both seeing his youngest daughter in a coffin and meeting his adult children for the first time. He’s not doing this alone, he has the support of his wife’s spirit beside him. When he sees adult Theo with Trish, he doesn’t have to ask questions because he already knew. He reveals to her that her mother always knew she was gay, even when she was eight years old. “To be known is to be loved.”

3. The Midnight Club (2022)

While I’ll admit The Midnight Club is my least favorite out of the Flanaverse, I have to give credit where credit is due. The show is queer! My editor may disagree with me that The Midnight Club is more queer than Hill House, but I stand by this ranking. This show is the only one on this list that focuses primarily on teenaged characters, which I personally think makes the queerness even more fun, exciting and important. Something also to note about this show is that it is the most racially diverse cast out of all six listed here. When you consider the intersection of the characters’ sexuality and race, it does read a lot more queer than a white lesbian who loves to get laid. Or maybe it’s all equally queer. But I spent some time thinking about it, and here’s what I came up with.

One of the characters at Briarcliffe Hospice is Spencer, a young gay Black patient who is receiving end of life care for a terminal HIV diagnosis. Spencer was forced to come out to his conservative Christian family after contracting AIDS from a lover who eventually passed, and his parents kicked him out of the house. The strength and support of the queer community is alive and well, though, because when Mark, a nurse at Briarcliffe, heard about Spencer’s situation, he brought him in. Because of the show’s format where each of the characters tell haunting ghost stories about different versions of themselves, we get to see Spencer be queer in his own reality as a disowned gay kid dying of AIDS surrounded by friends who accept him for who he is; we also get to see him in a different reality, where he’s an out college student with a boyfriend. Or maybe he’s a robot built by said boyfriend in the future. Or he’s a high school student making out with boys behind the bleachers after school. In every story, what remains to be true is his queerness.

Another characterization I love in Midnight Club is for Cheri, another terminally ill young adult at Briarcliffe. Cheri is the only one in the group who never shares her ghost story, despite claiming she’s almost done with it. She’s known to bend the truth or straight up lie, but there is never any question about her kindness of heart. It’s not until the second half of the series that we learn Cheri is gay, and while her sexual orientation is never precisely defined, fans believe her to be a lesbian. Perhaps that’s because of a gesture she makes to cheer up fellow patient Ilonka, or really what she says about the gesture, that can only be characterized as oh so lesbian. Cheri and Ilonka are both young Black women with terminal cancer, and they’re both losing their hair. Ilonka shares with Cheri that she misses her hair so much, and not long after, Cheri receives an expensive wig in the mail from her wealthy mother, designed specifically for Ilonka. When Iloka asks Cheri why she would do such a kind thing, Cheri says, “Because you mentioned it.” Mike Flanagan you DOG!!! Who taught you to lesbian like that!!!

2. The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020)

There are so many beautiful love stories happening in The Haunting of Bly Manor: protective love shared between brother and sister, toxic love shared between desperate lovers, gentle love shared between two selfless people; but lesbian love was front and center. Fans know that Bly Manor isn’t a ghost story, it’s a love story, and what a treat it is for us that it’s a love story between two women. Even though Dani and Jamie are the only out queer characters in the show, I’ve ranked Bly Manor this high because their love is front and center, unlike other shows in the Flanaverse.

It is so rare that we get to see lesbian love — and with it, lesbian coming out and lesbian crushing and lesbian loss — at the forefront of a project. I mean, look how nuts everyone went for the “San Junipero” episode of Black Mirror. That was only 61 minutes; now imagine an entire limited series. I really love and appreciate the entire ecosystem of Dani’s coming out and how it adds to her complex trauma but is not what solely comprises her complex trauma. Dani is not haunted by the image of her ex finaceé because she broke off the engagement because she’s a lesbian; she’s haunted by him because he is a person who she truly, deeply loved, and he died tragically. And I love that we’re able to see a lesbian character have such love for a man who meant something to her, just not enough for her to sacrifice her happiness and true self for. This is a reality for a lot of lesbians, but too often we only see the media that ignore that or begin the story after she’s figured herself out.

I absolutely love that with Dani and Jamie’s love story, we got to skip the whole “Is she gay?” and “Is she flirting or just being my friend?” shit. While it’s appreciated sometimes, it was so nice to see two women fall into each other as a circumstance of caring for one another and wanting to be in each other’s company. We don’t ever have to see a man and a woman dance around whether or not something is flirtatious or just friendly, because their love is the norm, so to see the same easiness happen here was so refreshing.

Bly Manor received much criticism from fans for perpetuating the “kill your gays” trope, but I think that’s bullshit when you consider the fact it killed off its main character! When I think of the “kill your gays” trope I think about expendable characters who get a few stereotypical lines with instructions to deliver them at a certain pitch and a limp wrist. I think about gay characters written just to be killed. I don’t believe Dani to be a character written just to be killed — quite the opposite. Dani was written to live, despite witnessing the death of someone she loved, despite being haunted by his image, despite living in a literal mansion filled with murderous ghosts, despite being an out lesbian at in the ’80s. It’s true the lesbian relationship in Bly Manor ends in tragedy, but the tragedy has nothing to do with their queerness. Dani died because she is a hero, because she was searching for a purpose and she found one.

1. The Fall of the House of Usher (2023)

Flanagan really said “Matter of fact, everybody’s queer!” when he made The Fall of the House of Usher. There are six main characters in House of Usher who are queer, four of whom are Usher siblings. Something I find particularly exciting about the queerness depicted in House of Usher is its fluidity. Half of the queer characters are either bisexual or pansexual, which is not often shown, or shown well, in television. We’re treated to a few different representations and interpretations of queerness, all of which as a whole outnumber the depictions of straightness.

I just adored T’Nia Miller in Bly Manor, so it was such a joy to see her portray lesbian character Victorine Lafourcade in Usher, especially a lesbian character whose complexity boils down to an ethical conundrum completely separate from her queerness. I’m also happy that Victorine’s story showed that, despite what we’d all like to believe to be true about lesbians, we’re not all perfect! Nor are we all morally just and uncorrupted by greed or daddy’s approval. Through Victorine and Allessandra’s relationship and eventual deaths, we got to see that not all lesbians are perfect. And we’re not all bad, either. Complexity! Could you imagine that?

Perry, Leo and Camille Usher are all bisexual siblings with some seriously questionable morals and decision making skills. Perry, the youngest Usher sibling, is a socialite and party boy above all else. His queerness takes the form of access — to people, to drugs, to power, to sex — he’s meant to be a character who’s grown up with great responsibility and expectations but also access to anything he can get his hands on. He’s not someone who experiences many limitations, whether to his bank account or his greedy wants, so why wouldn’t that also extend to his sexuality?

Leo Usher is another bisexual son who grew up under similar circumstances to Perry. He, too, enjoys a good party, high, and fuck. We slip a little bit into the “bisexual people are cheaters” stereotype when we watch Leo cheat on his live-in boyfriend Julius with a woman, but I dare to challenge that. Firstly, male characters are so rarely queer and when they are, they are gay men. Secondly, when this bisexual stereotype is applied, it’s more often than not to bisexual women. Thirdly, let the bisexuals cheat! Straight characters cheat all of the time, why can’t the queer ones?

Camille L’Espanaye is our third and final bisexual Usher sibling and… she’s not winning a GLAAD award anytime soon. Camille is a public relations professional who is, herself, a walking PR and HR nightmare. She abuses her power over her two assistants by coercing them into a threesome and then firing them when they fall in love with each other and politely ask to not have sex with her anymore. I’m a big advocate for letting queer characters be villains, and I’m happy to be seeing more of it (see: Christina Hendrick’s conservative queer piss kink character in Hacks and Che Diaz in And Just Like That). Straight cis men are being sexually inappropriate with their employees everyday, everywhere. Why should we assume a bisexual woman isn’t doing the same somewhere?

The last of the confirmed queer main characters is Auguste Dupin, who is a Black gay man and the detective trying to take down the Usher family. Something I find interesting about Dupin’s character, and the show as a whole, is that we learn Dupin is gay in the 1979 timeline after already getting to know the character as a detective. But in the present day timeline, all of the queer characters are just… out. There is no big reveal or hinting at a spouse at home. It feels like an intentional decision made by Flanagan to show the difference between queer acceptance in 1979 versus 2023, which I find pretty cool. We can interpret the omission of a formal coming out or explicit mention of a husband as a commentary on the times or just as another option for queer people, which is to keep their personal life separate from their work life.

Now, for an unconfirmed, fan-based theory: Madeline Usher is queer. Which is not to say I think she is a lesbian or bisexual, though she did kiss Verna on the lips. She may even be asexual, or on the ace spectrum, considering the lack of attention we get to any aspect of her romantic life outside of some mention of an ex-husband. But what really makes me call her queer is… and don’t hate me for saying this… her outward disdain for men and the power men held over women. I believe there are so many different ways to be queer, and I think that a woman in the 60s, 70s, and 80s actively choosing not to be subservient to men — not a husband nor a boss — is a display of queerness in that it is in direct contrast to what is expected of her and societal norms.

The Fall of the House of Usher begs the questions, is it “kill your gays” if all of the characters are queer AND they all die? And is it a harmful stereotype if the character sucks for a million other reasons, too? And what if we let our bisexual characters suck and fuck how they please? One thing you can not accuse Flanagan of here is bi erasure.

Sadly, there wasn’t a new Flanagan TV project this year. Well, that’s not true. There was a Flanagan horror TV project, just not Mike’s! Jamie Flanagan, who wrote on Bly Manor, Midnight Mass, The Midnight Club, and Fall of the House of Usher, wrote an episode of Hysteria!, a supernatural horror series that came out on Peacock last week. I’m excited to give that a watch once I’m done with my annual rewatch.

HORROR IS SO GAY is Autostraddle’s annual celebration of queer horror.

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