The Cutprice Guignol

Can we just take a second to talk about Kathy Bates? In this episode, she’s a majestic, episode- dominating force; by turns hilarious (“they gave me a three-episode arc, but iI got five!” she maniacally gurns into the camera, her apron drenched in blood) and terrifying. Despite her strong performances in the show so far (season four being her finest, for my money), I’ve always had the nagging feeling that the show has never quite given her a role that allows her to display her full, magnetic talent; finally, somehow, in this outrageous, blood-soaked forty minutes, she’s in full flight, and it’s magnificent.

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God fucking dammit, American Horror Story.

Yeah, that big twist that Ryan Murphy promised we would never see coming- I think we all pretty much did, but that doesn’t undermine the fact that episode six of My Roanoke Nightmare is by far the best the season has offered up so far. Manic, goofy, and engaging, Chapter Six is a welcome fucking relief from the uninspired plots and bad accents we had to put up with only a week ago.

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Have you ever been to a haunted house? You know, not an actual one, but something some savvy local businessman might set up to rake in some of that sweet Halloween dough. You stumble from room to room, being bombarded with any number of zanily gruesome images, in an attempt to instil some sense of horror into your soul. But much as you might try to buy into it, to gamely play along, there’s a little voice at the back of your head going “This is all bullshit, isn’t it?”. That’s how I feel about this episode of American Horror Story.

Ellie, this picture is for you, because I’m not sure you’re going to like what I have to say about this episode.

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Aaaand we’re back. I don’t mean these recaps; I mean American Horror Story is back to it’s usual cavalcade of mediocrity, after three relatively promising episodes.

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