‘Widow’s Bay’ strikes a rare balance between charming and terrifying
It is exceptionally difficult to convince people to watch new shows, simply because there are so darn many of them trotting onto streaming platforms every day. But if you’re looking for one new show to dig into, make it Apple TV’s new horror comedy, Widow’s Bay. Full of references to Stephen King but with classic sitcom DNA, it feels like a well-oiled machine from the opening minutes, and so far, not a single episode disappoints.
Set on the fictional New England island of Widow’s Bay, the series focuses on Matthew Rhys’s Tom Loftis, the mayor of the small community who is determined to transform it into a tourist haven on par with Martha’s Vineyard. Just when his plans seem to be paying off, however, an earthquake rattles the old whaling town and sends the locals into a panic over generations-old superstition and folklore. Created by Parks and Recreation writer Katie Dippold, the series is part workplace comedy and part Jaws, with elements of Schitt’s Creek and Lost thrown in for good measure.
Horror is tough to sustain in a TV show format, and many that try, like Stranger Things, end up opting for character development and special effects over sustained tension and jump scares. The fact that Widow’s Bay manages to have its cake and eat it too is a remarkable feat. Even more impressive is that it keeps the comedy humming right alongside the horror.
It’s no secret that these genres are closely related. Both evoke physical and often audible responses from audiences, and both offer their own forms of catharsis, but giving them equal footing across multiple episodes and making it look effortless is a completely different challenge. Most horror comedies use humour as a palate cleanser for the jump scares, but Widow’s Bay evokes laughter and fear simultaneously.
In the second episode, Tom accepts a dare to spend one night in the inn that the locals claim is haunted. Bombarded with horror stories about all the grisly possibilities that await him, Tom agrees to film himself executing a checklist of activities that will supposedly rouse various ghouls from dormancy. For example, he has to do the dumbest thing possible and wedge himself into a crawl space in the cobwebby basement. On a less petrifying note, he has to stand in front of a mirror and say “Ugly Hortense” three times. Neither, at first, unleashes the promised consequences.
Appearing to conclude that the hotel, though creepy, is not haunted, Tom sits down on the bed in the infamous Captain’s Suite and turns on the ancient TV. A man appears and welcomes viewers to join him on a tour of Widow’s Bay, but as he turns and walks away, the camera doesn’t follow him. Part of the humour of the series is how old-fashioned the town is, and this at first appears to be just another example of its struggles with modern technology. As the man grows smaller and smaller, however, the humour gives way to a growing sense of unease. You might find yourself laughing out loud and clutching the sides of your seat at the same time.
This first season of Widow’s Bay contains ten episodes, which vary in length and are being released one at a time every week instead of all at once. Both of these factors – the modern flexibility of not having to stick to a network timetable and the old-fashioned pace of one episode per week – give the creators maximum control over the endeavour, and so far, they are justifying every move. It’s a wonderful thing as an audience to feel as though you are in safe hands.
At this stage, every episode has its own narrative arc within the broader, ten-episode structure. Nothing feels like filler, and everything seems to be barrelling towards a specific destination. If it continues like this, Widow’s Bay will undoubtedly be one of the best shows of the year and may even rival the historic slate of top-tier horror movies that are hitting cinemas this spring. It might not have become a viral talking point, but that is one of the reasons it’s just a joy to watch.
This is not a polarising show about the ills of the modern world. It’s pure comfort food that is far too good to be dismissed as a guilty pleasure.
