7 hours ago
12
When Widow’s Bay appeared on Apple TV in April, all signs pointed it to being another one of those underwatched and undermarketed curios – like Sunny or Land of Women or Extrapolations – that routinely get dumped on to the platform before quickly dying of neglect.
Instead, something remarkable happened. Unless Apple has been secretly trialling a new strategy where they directly pay everyone I know to tell me how good its shows are, Widow’s Bay has become the biggest word of mouth hit that television has had in years. With every passing episode, the buzz gets a little bit louder. And this is for a very good reason: Widow’s Bay is absolutely wonderful.
A horror comedy about a small New England island that is home to a centuries-old supernatural curse, the greatest thing about Widow’s Bay is its absolute mastery of tone. Most of the time something like this is attempted, the balance ends up a little off; either the scares are too spoofy or ironic, or the jokes merely exist as lazy tension cutters. Somehow, though, Widow’s Bay gets both exactly right. It is simultaneously a beautifully sharp, zippy character-based comedy, and the sort of genuinely unsettling horror that leaves you holding your breath without realising it. That it managed to achieve this without diluting anything is little short of a miracle.
But on the off-chance that nobody has tried to press the show into your hands yet, here’s the premise. Widow’s Bay is a small tourist island that desperately needs tourists. After a huge amount of cajoling, the well-meaning but unpopular mayor convinces a New York Times reporter to visit, which results in a glowing write-up. Visitors come flooding in. Unfortunately, this coincides with a plague of sea hags and killer clowns and masked murderers and reanimated corpses, controlled by a demonic island-wide entity.
However, since it was created by Parks and Recreation’s Kate Dippold, the series also functions as a snappy workplace comedy. The island’s mayor finds himself torn between ignoring the entity for the sake of the industry and forcing a curfew on everyone. His assistant is an eccentric outcast who struggles to fit in. There’s a doomy-eyed prophet played by Stephen Root, and a checked-out shaman played by Chris Fleming.
The star is obviously Matthew Rhys, an actor who has made a name for himself performing in extremely serious fare like The Americans and Perry Mason. He brings a little of that haunted gravity to his role here, but the main note he gets to play is baffled dread. This, it turns out, is something he is astonishingly adept at. At the first sign of anything creepy, his eyes swivel and bulge like they’re trying to find a way to escape his head. It is a remarkable performance.
However, I suspect that the most-loved character will end up being his assistant, played by Kate O’Flynn. A standout in the Channel 4 sitcom Everyone Else Burns, O’Flynn has long been a huge talent in search of a breakout, and this looks to be it. There are moments on this show where she manages to detune her entire face into a state of angry incomprehension, in a way that I have never seen another performer do.
O’Flynn is also the beating heart of the show’s standout episode in which, blighted by self-esteem issues, she attempts to throw a party for the island’s residents. It’s a genius piece of construction. You’re so drawn in by her awkwardness and heartbreak that the gloriously horrible turn – no spoilers – catches you completely off-guard.
This is the show’s secret trick. Throwing a party to increase your popularity is a hokey old sitcom trope, and it isn’t the only one the show utilises. Other episodes revolve around mushroom trips, and horny strangers, and spending a night in a haunted inn, and all manner of cliches that you will have seen dozens of times before. But the show makes them feel fresh, because they’re bolted on to an engine of pure horror.
This surely has something to do with the participation of lead director Hiro Murai, who has made a name blending the funny and disquieting. He worked on the hazily disturbing Atlanta, and the darkly violent Barry, and you have to assume that his visual sensibilities stopped Widow’s Bay from becoming too corny.
When something gets as much word of mouth buzz as Widow’s Bay, you tend to find that comparisons are all over the place. Some have compared it to Twin Peaks, although this has far more narrative momentum. Others have compared it to Stranger Things, although this is far more intelligent. I’ve seen Severance get thrown about too, but that might just be because it’s on Apple TV. In reality, Widow’s Bay is entirely its own thing. By the time of the finale, it’s all that anyone will be talking about. Catch up while you can.
