The blend of horror and comedy — two genres driven by tension that culminates in a cathartic payoff — has thrived in recent years at the box office, championed by auteurs like Jordan Peele and Zach Cregger. With the droll, authentically creepy Apple TV series “Widow’s Bay,” creator Katie Dippold has successfully transplanted the hybrid to the small screen. One would expect nothing less from the woman who turned Australian cult hit “The Babadook” into an immortal meme, on top of other accomplishments like penning the scripts for multiple Paul Feig movies. It’s a feat worth celebrating nonetheless.
The namesake of “Widow’s Bay” is a fictional island off the coast of New England that Mayor Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys) is determined to make “the next Martha’s Vineyard.” All he has to do is dispel the superstition that the island is somehow cursed: a serial killer took the lives of several teen girls in the 1990s; it’s rumored anyone born there will die if they set foot on the mainland; a host of local legends around everything from church bells to mushrooms fuel rampant superstition. Tom, a widower solo parenting his teenage son Evan (Kingston Rumi Southwick), is determined to tune out the noise and push Widow’s Bay into the future, where you can get cell reception and order a cappuccino at the local coffee shop.
At first, “Widow’s Bay” seems to set up an “X-Files”-like dynamic between Tom and Wyck (Stephen Root), a fisherman who represents the true-believing native son to Tom’s skeptical interloper. (Tom grew up off-island, only moving on account of his late wife.) But the show wisely dispenses with ambiguity within a couple episodes: What’s happening to Widow’s Bay — a cluster of disturbing events heralded by a mysterious fog — is very real, and it’s up to Tom to stop it before all the tourists he prayed for get spooked or worse.
Though the plot has an overarching story, there’s an almost anthological feel to “Widow’s Bay,” which riffs on a different sub-branch of horror with each subsequent half-hour. There’s a slasher riff, á la “Halloween”; a haunted hotel, á la “The Shining”; even a flashback to the settlement’s Puritan-era origins, á la “The Witch.” That last one is helmed by “X” director Ti West, who joins “Severance” director Sam Donovan and “Friendship” auteur Andrew DeYoung in a stacked behind-the-camera lineup led by executive producer Hiro Murai, late of “Atlanta” and “Barry.” It takes a group of such experience to handle the series’ delicate balancing act, which sustains both heart-pounding suspense and wry humor for impressively long stretches of time.
Despite so clearly broadcasting its influences, “Widow’s Bay” is not a parody, nor does it take on the joke-a-minute pace or goofy tone of an outright spoof like “Scary Movie.” The comedy is instead more deadpan, with Rhys playing the flustered straight man against a (sometimes literal) murderer’s row of ensemble members and guest stars. After giving a classic “who is that” turn in the rudely canceled “My Lady Jane,” Kate O’Flynn excels as Tom’s eager and eccentric assistant Patricia, who leads my two favorite episodes of the season. “Righteous Gemstones” star Tim Baltz, chaotic stand-up Chris Fleming and “GLOW” alum Betty Gilpin are among the visitors who flit in and out of Widow’s Bay like so many “Simpsons” side characters. If it weren’t for the sea hags and scary clowns, “Widow’s Bay” wouldn’t be too far off from the quirky small-town sensibility of a “Schitt’s Creek.”
The cosmology of “Widow’s Bay” is deliberately vague, barely making an attempt to unite all the disparate evils that afflict this tiny island. The point is, instead, to revel in the contrast between the terrors and the impressively unfazed people who navigate them. One resident wakes up to a hooded stranger preparing to stab her and silently points them to her sleeping husband rather than scream. Another shuts a door on an old-timer in the middle of his menacing monologue about an apocalyptic storm. Such subtle tweaks in rhythm and resolution are more subtle, and more rewarding, than a straightforward joke-and-punchline setup. (Though there’s also plain old slapstick; Rhys does expert work with an oversized picture frame in a later episode.) They’re also rooted in the same command over timing that makes extended home invasion or chase sequences riveting for minutes at a time.
In lieu of a detailed mythology or elaborately constructed mystery box, the scares on “Widow’s Bay” are grounded in the characters’ different anxieties: Tom’s desire to control the risks facing his increasingly independent son; Patricia’s loneliness and need to fit in; Wick’s regret over past sins and paths not taken; Evan wanting to impress a girl. (The teens in “Widow’s Bay” are oblivious enough to do their genre forebears proud.) When I contemplate a clearly forecast Season 2, it’s not the quest to end the curse that interests me — it’s the prospect of spotlights on smaller players like salty old-timer Rosemary (Dale Dickey) or Tom’s sweet deputy Dale (Jeff Hiller). Widow’s Bay may not make the best tourist destination, but I’d happily make a return trip.
The first two episodes of “Widow’s Bay” are now streaming on Apple TV, with remaining episodes airing weekly on Wednesdays.
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