‘American Horror Story’ Episodes Ranked

“American Horror Story’s” own mythology states that souls can venture beyond their eternal boundaries on Halloween night, an idea first introduced in Season 1’s “Murder House,” and then toyed with in subsequent seasons. “Hotel” uses the rule to put a wicked twist on the age-old question: Who are your fantasy dinner guests, dead or alive? Here, a murderers’ row (literally) of real-life serial killers convene for a Halloween night dinner at the invitation of Hotel Cortez builder Mr. March (Evan Peters). While Murphy has increasingly come to rely on true crime for his other series (the three seasons of “American Crime Story,” the two installments of “Monster”), he best understood the cultural infamy of such figures in this context, letting them commiserate over their dirty deeds and bask in the thrill of the hunt. As the likes of Aileen Wuornos (Lily Rabe), John Wayne Gacy (John Carroll Lynch) and Richard Ramirez (Anthony Ruivivar) joke and laugh uninhibited by the outside world they previously had to hide from, this episode shows just what kind of hellmouth the Hotel Cortez really is. A place where evil comes to dine and raise a glass to murder and mayhem, a  standard feature at the Cortez.

While it was easy to fall in love with the performers of this mid-century traveling circus, it was more difficult to rally behind their leader. The morally depleted Elsa Mars (Jessica Lange) assembled her stable of misfits to serve her own vanity as much as it was a virtuous move to give them a safe haven. Even as her circus folk face the wrath of Twisty the Clown, Dandy the Psychopath and the prejudices of an unwelcoming society, Elsa’s selfish pursuits made Lange’s last act on the show (as a series regular) a tougher pill to swallow. That being said, one of “Freak Show’s” smartest moves was letting Lange showcase Elsa’s insecurities through song. The best and most heartbreaking use of her voice closes out this premiere, as the show reveals the pound of flesh (literally and figuratively) Elsa has given to the cruelty of life and her pursuit of fame. A double amputee clinging to her final days, she takes her own stage to relish, even for a moment, the spotlight the world has denied her. The song choice of David Bowie’s “Life on Mars?” is a nice touch. But what is most mesmerizing about curtain call is seeing all the performers who entertain the world so she feels like she has a place in it.

If you were among those hearty few who made it through the first half of this season’s double billing, you were treated to one of the strongest showcases for the show’s stealthiest MVP contender, Lily Rabe. Whether or not you enjoyed this truncated tale about the lengths to which creative types will go to feed their talent doesn’t particularly matter, because it is most interesting when it shows the sacrifices made by those who support said creatives in the name of their art. Doris (Rabe), the pregnant and neglected wife of writer Harry (Finn Whittrock), gives birth to their son, but is imprisoned by her husband and others to hide their use of a drug that turns people into bloodsuckers. By the time Doris takes the pill, she isn’t made to be a clear-headed savant like her husband and child, but rather a ravaging animal eventually cast out into the wilderness to live as a pale-skinned abomination unworthy of recognition. The metaphor of a mother giving everything to her family and getting nothing in return is not lost on anyone. Seared into our brain is the most heartbreaking image of a completely transformed Doris left to roam the world as a nameless vestige of the sacrifices she made for her family. Or as Leslie Grossman’s reprehensible Ursula puts it, “There’s nothing more tragic, pathetic and sad than a person with no talent trying to make it in the world.” Hug your mom, kids!

“Apocalypse” bears the burden of being the first official crossover of the interconnected “AHS” universe of seasons, primarily “Coven” and “Murder House.” Most people would probably say that “Return to Murder House,” the triumphant reunion of Season 1’s original cast — including Lange and Connie Britton — is the key episode of this season. But we favor this one, which is the first time the show peels back the facade of its initial bomb-shelter premise to reveal its true intentions: telling the story of Michael (Cody Fern), the antichrist born at the end of Season 1, and his war against the witches of “Coven.” As Michael recruits the scattered sisters of Miss Robichaux’s Academy to his ranks, the episode is not only a delightful reminder of just how good “Coven” was, but also a chilling exhibition of the true threat Michael poses. Lacing the sorely missed faces of the past (they will never make us hate you, Madison Montgomery!) into his increasingly sinister plans made for a fascinating exercise in world expansion. By the time Cordelia (Sarah Paulson) sees that Michael was able to rescue her girls from the clutches of Hell and the Cortez when she couldn’t, it declared a new era of horror had arrived.

In retrospect, the highs of “Murder House” are somewhat undercut by the wilder things the series has done since. But as the opening salvo to this universe, the season set the tone for what was possible, and no moment is more pivotal than this episode’s confirmation of what some viewers had long suspected: when Violet Harmon (Taissa Farmiga) thought she tried and failed to kill herself a few episodes before this one, she had actually been successful. In the aftermath of her death, we had been watching her first days as a soul bound to the house, under which Tate (Peters) hid her decaying body to let her slowly adjust to her new reality. The tragedy of such a young life lost –– paired with the evolving story of Tate’s own crimes and volatile nature –– was foundational in showing how far “AHS” would go in its storytelling. And it’s never looked back.

When “AHS” finally mounted its take on the infamous Cecil Hotel in downtown Los Angeles, it did so with its brightest star power this side of Jessica Lange — Lady Gaga. As The Countess, the nocturnal, fashion-forward siren who lords over the Hotel Cortez, the season was given an instant injection of charisma right out of the gate. But this premiere episode really is an ensemble effort as it introduces its other key players: Hypodermic Sally (Paulson), a mischievous drug-addled ghost; Liz Taylor (Denis O’Hare), the fabulous steward of the hotel’s secrets; Iris (Kathy Bates), the worn-down hotel manager and mother of Donovan (Matt Bomer), the Countess’ companion who died shooting up with Sally. For all its sensationalism, the episode does a compelling job at sucking the air out of its stylish hotel setting and leaving behind a claustrophobic husk for its characters to find some sense of a home in. But if you need only one reason to book your stay, then look no further than Gaga’s delicious line reading of, “Your boy has a jawline for days,” as she gleefully paws at Donovan’s freshly expired corpse.

There are few moments more indelible in the canon of “AHS” than “The Name Game” dance number induced by Sister Jude’s (Lange) electroshock therapy. A brightly colored anomaly in the otherwise grim palette of Briarcliff asylum, it is a perfect distillation of the fever dream that is much of this series. This episode also features the literal fall from grace for Sister Mary Eunice (Rabe), whose dance with the devil escalates after the good-hearted sister is possessed and wreaks havoc on the staff. When she is killed to banish the demon, audiences are treated to two more iconic moments –– the Angel of Death (Francis Conroy) taking Mary Eunice and former Nazi Dr. Arden (James Cromwell in his Emmy-winning role) climbing into the cremation machine with her body. No one would blame you if you are still reeling from the conflagration of conflicting emotions about watching a Nazi doctor fall in love and meet his fate in the flames of an oven.

While some dismiss “Roanoke” as a half-baked takedown of Hollywood, we will always go to bat for this deranged, yet inspired take on America’s first legend. Where “Roanoke” succeeds is its two-in-one format. It initially plays out as episodes of a faux docuseries called “My Roanoke Nightmare” about a haunted house on the land once home to the Lost Colony in North Carolina. But in this episode, directed by Angela Bassett, the show takes a surreal turn by shifting its focus to the phenomenon of the docuseries off screen and the instant stardom of its reenactment cast, who then return to the real haunted house for a sequel series that devolves into a found-footage massacre. There was something horrific about the shattering effect of the show on its participants, and something simultaneously satisfying about the bloodlust reaped by Hollywood’s love of a sequel. But the most startling thing about this turn is the subtle choice to show the sunken, grimy, exceptionally ordinary faces of the “real” ghosts the docuseries depicted. It is effective commentary on how watching a docuseries means ingesting Hollywood’s gussied-up version of reality.

There is nothing quite like the promise of a new season of “American Horror Story,” and no season had a more pulse-quickening start than “Coven.” A sweaty, gothic setting in New Orleans. A school for young witches with special gifts and acid-tongue retorts. An aging supreme witch in Fiona Goode (Lange), fighting to retain power with the temperament of a feral animal. A bloodbath at a frat party. This season premiere had it all, and a witch’s brew of swagger to boot. What makes it so arresting in hindsight, though, is that the potential on display in this premiere is actually paid off by the end of the season. Long live the Supreme (season).

In what feels like a direct response to the “Devil’s Night” entry earlier on this list, the season finale for “Hotel” is notably sentimental about where it leaves its horde of ghosts and vampires forced to cohabitate in the hotel’s halls for eternity. By this point, Lady Gaga’s The Countess is dead, and Liz Taylor (O’Hare) and Iris (Bates) have taken control of the property, which is on the cusp of becoming a protected landmark — if only they can get the ghosts to stop murdering guests. But Liz is succumbing to cancer, and rather than risk dying off-site away from her much-loved found family at the Cortez, she gathers them all together to sacrifice herself to the hotel in order to remain with them forever. It is one of the most beautiful moments in the entire series, and one made even more moving by the reappearance of the elusive Countess to do the honors of welcoming Liz, “her greatest creation,” to the afterlife with the pointy tip of her deadly glove. 

There are so many reasons to love “Asylum.” The absolute unmatched trio of Lange, Paulson and Peters. Sister Mary Eunice’s tragic tango with the devil. The somehow-it-works storytelling that blends commentary on mental health facilities, religion, the Holocaust, aliens and investigative journalism. But the finale is, perhaps, the season’s most masterful feat in how it ties up its loose ends across time. Kit (Peters) is able to care for Sister Jude (Lange) through the rest of her life, adopting her in his family before she is willingly claimed by the Angel of Death. Lana (Paulson) gets her due for the immersive reporting she did (against her will) inside Briarcliff at a perilous time to be a woman and a lesbian and a journalist. But it’s only after she is confronted by the son (Dylan McDermott) she had after she was raped by Bloody Face (Zachary Quinto) that can she truly find peace years later. When she puts a bullet in his head, she spares the world the last remaining vestige of the asylum’s horrors –– even though it left plenty of scars.

Once “AHS” fully committed to its seasons all existing in the same universe, it put itself in the precarious position of maintaining the increasingly heavy load of its own story. But there have been moments of genuine pay-off for long-time fans, and the most satisfying of them all is the story of Pepper (Naomi Grossman). First seen as an eternally cheerful patient in “Asylum,” fans always wondered how she came to be in the clutches of Briarcliff. There was hope for answers when she popped up as a member of Elsa Mars’ carnival in “Freak Show” — and it all comes full circle in “Orphans.” Pepper’s story was a heartbreaking tale of the fear that society and even one’s own family can succumb to when dealing with someone they don’t understand. After Pepper’s partner Salty dies, she is tossed from person to person, at the mercy of the dismissive caretakers who should have protected her. She lands at Briarcliff to be stowed away from the world, even though she never lost her joy. Grossman is tremendous as Pepper, a soul too pure for this world, let alone the dark universe of “AHS.” Through Pepper’s eyes, the episode is a searing reminder that, for all the macabre and messy ways the series depicts its horrors, there is nothing scarier than the lack of human decency in the world. Here, “AHS” remembers its greatest strength across its seasons and themes isn’t the macabre and messy ways in which it depicts horrors. It is the steep price paid with our humanity along the way.