The Magnus Archives began in 2016 as a weekly horror fiction anthology podcast distributed by Rusty Quill. The show focusses on the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching supernatural events. In a rare momentary lapse of imagination, the show’s writer Jonathan Sims plays a character called… Jonathan Sims, the new Head Archivist at the Institute. Sims has been appointed following the death of his predecessor and finds her organisation of the archives to be less than ideal. As Sims works through the seemingly randomly filed records he takes up the task of converting them to audio on an old cassette recorder, after finding the creation of digital files to be too unreliable.
This show was a podcast sensation. From small beginnings it gathered a legion of loyal and obsessive fans and started to pick up numerous awards. Its format of 40 episodes per season over five years resulted in a hugely bingeable show, which found even more listeners as people searched for new entertainment during the pandemic lockdown years. To try and put that into some sort of context, The Magnus Archives was one of the first 100 podcasts to reach over 100 million streams on Spotify alone. The first full episode of Season One, Angler Fish, has 2 million streams on Spotify.
All this means I’m reviewing a show that became a phenomenon. Naturally, I’m coming to the party tragically late – the fifth and final season aired way back in 2021. However, in some ways I prefer doing a review of a show like this when some of the fandom frenzy has died down (and it’s important to note the podcast is still incredibly popular, years after it finished). It’s very easy to be swept along by a crowd. So the key questions here are does the show live up to the hype and does it still stand up today? The good news is the answer on both counts is an emphatic yes!
Done well, horror has a timeless quality. Ghost stories and the like often concern events being recounted from years ago. The show leans into this by having Sims review records that are a few months old right back to those dating from the 1800s. There’s a ‘found footage’ aspect to the show, as Sims dutifully reads the records out loud and captures them on tape. As well as the original record, we also get the benefit of Sims’ assessment of the veracity of the story being told. He’s dismissive of some, especially at the beginning. However, as the series progresses a number of recurring characters, themes and motifs begin to emerge, all hinting that something larger connects these seemingly disparate stories.
Consequently, whilst each tale is self-contained, it soon becomes clear there’s an overarching story tying them all together. The genius here is in how this is slowly revealed. Often it’s the listener who will understand the connection, whilst the fallibility of Sims’ memory means he misses things – at least in this first season. There’s even an episode where it’s clear that listeners have picked up on minor inconsistencies in the storytelling, forcing Sims to acknowledge the errors in his own recordings. Whilst the horror elements are superbly done, I did appreciate the humour that also runs through the show. Some of this is dark stuff, so a little respite is always welcome.
The Magnus Archives works because each story involves the lives of ordinary people and explores what happens when they intersect with a world of hidden horror. At least 80% of the show is delivered via a solo performance by Jonathan Sims and his voice acting has to be commended. In an unobtrusive but effective way, he ensures that each person whose statement he is recording has their own distinctive voice.
The choice of themes is also expertly done. Sims plays on just about every fear you can imagine in Season One. We have varied stories of exorcism, possession, infestation, vampires, claustrophobia, strange neighbours, terrible dreams foreshadowing the future and alarming cults. The list goes on and on and whilst some tales work better than others, the overall storytelling standard is extremely high.
Sims’ delivery is combined with some subtle but excellent sound production. Primarily using music, with wider sound effects used later in the show for ‘live recorded’ scenes, this ensures the tension slowly builds during each report and there’s always an underlying sense of unease. Often this takes place almost below the threshold of hearing. Several of these stories made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and, whilst that has a lot to do with the brilliant writing, the mood created by the music plays a massive part in the overall listening experience.
The format of the show, especially at the beginning, can feel a bit repetitive at times. If you’re binging lots at once it’s easy for the structure to start to feel over-familiar. Fortunately, the writer and producers recognised this issue. A live recording of a brand-new statement marks the point when things begin to change. Starting with the appearance of Katie Davison in the superb Episode 13, Alone, other voices are slowly introduced and this helps expand the world, taking the show to another level.
As I was listening I was also worried that the fact everything was tied to Sims’ dated tape recorder might impose constraints on how the story was being told. Again, my fears proved unfounded. Inventive ways are found to slowly move the show from the archive room into more current events and even live action. It’s really well done and ensures Season One finishes with a memorable finale.
Right now, I cannot possibly imagine how Jonathan Sims is going to be able to come up with enough diverse and interesting material to ensure the subsequent 160 episodes do not start to repeat themselves or begin to feel boring. Honestly, it gives me anxiety even thinking about the scale of that challenge. I comfort myself in having been told Season Two exceeds the high standards set by Season One.
Honestly, I don’t know how this can be possible, but I can’t wait to find out.
