The Midnight Gospel: Emotional Fulfilment

Words by Curmudgeon Film Talk

The Midnight Gospel (2020) is the latest creative endeavour from Pendleton Ward – the mind behind Adventure Time (2010-2018) – and for the love of Christ, it’s bloody difficult to talk about.

Divided into 8 parts, the series is a sort of bizarre sci-fi adventure, centring around Clancy (voiced by co-creator Duncan Trussell) – an aspiring “space caster” (basically another word for “podcaster”). With the help of his bootlegged “multiverse simulator,” Clancy fumbles from dimension to dimension, interviewing a colourful cast of unusual characters on various existential and philosophical topics. Such topics range from recreational drug use, to occultism, to the inevitability of death. If that sounds like a ride, it is.

Frankly, the biggest tragedy of The Midnight Gospel is that it is often boiled down to being “trippy.” That’s not to say that this is an incorrect observation, necessarily – the show certainly trips the light fantastic on every occasion – but it does neglect to capture just how emotionally fulfilling the series is to behold.

There is an unusual disconnect – at least at first – between the imagery and the dialogue. The reason for this is that the conversations are mostly drawn from Duncan Trussell’s own podcast, The Duncan Trussell Family Hour. As such, each episode upholds a fairly standard podcast format – as the characters question and are questioned, they appear to drift through a world which just sort of...happens around them. In an extreme case, a character is literally reduced to mince while their monologue continues, completely uninterrupted.

Anne Lamotte as Annie Deer Dog (below) and Duncan Trussell as Clancy (above).

At first, this is an extremely unusual world to enter. But, episode by episode, you begin to fall into this peculiar headspace whereby the imagery and the topic of discussion mirror each other. The unusual visuals no longer feel detached from the discussion, but add an essential layer to it. For instance, when someone is monologuing about peacefully accepting death, it makes sense that they would speak uninterruptedly as their body is processed through a meat grinder.

With this in mind, “trippy” is a less applicable term than “spiritual.” I wouldn't even consider myself a spiritual person, but this is perhaps why it’s so difficult to talk about The Midnight Gospel; as you slowly accept the series for what it is and begin to identify with its existential gaze, it is something akin to a spiritual experience.

More importantly, Duncan Trussell clearly has that Louis Theroux quality where he can tease the most candid, honest, authentic conversation out of anybody, and on the most bizarre topics, no less. It is this candidness which makes The Midnight Gospel so utterly soul-affirming. That is to say, many of these subjects aren’t exactly the easiest to talk about – morality, existence, death. And yet, Trussell and Ward have collated a perfect batch of interviews which manage to put into words – and images - all those complicated questions of life, and in a way that is so utterly open, unbridled, unashamed.

This is also what makes The Midnight Gospel such an emotional experience. But to elaborate, I’d like to talk about episode 8 – “Mouse of Silver” – in particular.

Deneen Fendig as herself and Duncan Trussell as Clancy.

The episode revolves around a unique interview between Trussell and his own mother. As the ‘story’ progresses, the animation depicts a sort of condensed passage of time – from scene to scene, we see Clancy age from a small child, to an adolescent, to an adult – all while the mother shares amusing anecdotes on Trussell’s childhood.

At some point, it is revealed that the mother is dying of cancer. The remainder of the episode functionally boils down to a child talking to his mother about her imminent demise.

There is such a tangible rawness in this. The mother has long since accepted her mortality, but it’s so painfully clear that Trussell isn’t ready for her to die. Yet they talk, just a couple of human beings, about accepting that some day we’re all going to be corpses. In an unusual way, she guides him through this acceptance with all the maternal tenderness as one might treat a toddler.

How does one reconcile this? After all, we’re all just children. Even in his mid-40s, Trussell comes across like a terrified child in the face of his mother’s mortality, and his own. Of course, I understand not everyone is fortunate enough to have a positive relationship with their parents, let alone the example set by Trussell and his mother in conversation. Regardless, all the pain and fear and directionlessness that one might feel in the absence of their parents is communicated in this beautiful, painfully candid conversation. “There’s no way to stop the heartbreak,” he says. “What do you do about that?” – “You cry. You cry.”

Somewhere in this soul-rending discussion between parent and child, I found a sort of self-realisation. My own parents will inevitably die someday, and I’m not sure I will ever be ready for that. How can you be? Is that a discussion anyone can ever be ready for? All I can do is point them in the direction of The Midnight Gospel. Because, in their own insane way, Trussell and Ward have provided us with a dialogue that communicates what is frankly too hard to say in daily life.