‘Widow’s Bay’ Review: Matthew Rhys’ Inspired Island-Bound Horror-Comedy Is a Wicked Treat

Hiro Murai directs Katie Dippold's original series about a mayor (Matthew Rhys) trying to revitalize a small, isolated community (literally) trapped by (actual) spirits.

Mayor Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys) is exasperated. On the day a New York Times’ travel reporter is scheduled to drop anchor in Widow’s Bay, forces are conspiring to ruin his trip. An earthquake the night prior knocked out the town’s power. An encroaching fog is disrupting the ferry schedule. The one nice restaurant is closing early. Worse yet, the locals are restless.

You see, many of the residents believe Widow’s Bay is cursed. Framed news stories at the historical society boast headlines like, “Priest Eaten by Whale,” “Man Found Dead by Horse,” and “Cannibalism in God’s House.” More recently documented debacles include sailors lost at sea, an aughts-era killer targeting teens, and a Salem-esque witch hunt (which one citizen sees as “a great source of pride — we caught ’em, we burned ’em”).

“It’s starting,” a fisherman named Wyck (Stephen Root) informs the mayor. “It’s a haunt!”

As silly as the phrasing sounds, it’s the last thing Tom wants to hear. He’s angling to turn his long-overlooked island home off the coast of New England into the next Martha’s Vineyard. He needs the reporter’s trip to go well so his article will help induce a boom in tourism. What he doesn’t need are old crackpots spouting even older folktales about traditions as antiquated as an American town without cell signal or WiFi.

The only problem is: The crackpots are correct.

Created by Katie Dippold (who wrote “The Heat” and helped make “The Babadook” a household name), “Widow’s Bay” is an Apple original series walking a tricky tightrope between comedy and horror. Over the first three episodes (all of which are directed by “Atlanta” veteran Hiro Murai), it’s unclear whether, by ignoring the island’s increasingly creepy warnings of impending disaster, Tom is dragging his community kicking and screaming into the future or ushering in their doom. Similarly, it’s unclear whether “Widow’s Bay” is tethered to a relatable reality, where each fright can be explained away by skeptics (and embraced by believers), or if its surreal scares are, in fact, a legitimate force to be reckoned with.

In other words, can we laugh off the town’s curse and trust in Tom’s pursuit of progress, or is his quest misguided and there’s good reason to fear the looming “haunt”?

Thankfully, Dippold provides a definitive answer, and fast. Her 10-episode first season isn’t just an allegory for learning to accept and conquer life’s inescapable anxieties; its horrors are irrefutable for everyone onscreen, which makes for a cathartic, curious, and chilling experience for everyone watching at home. The people of “Widow’s Bay” take their terrors seriously so that viewers know it’s fair to do the same with their own, while their sensible sense of humor not only humanizes our delightful gaggle of weirdos, it helps heighten the scares. And with Murai directing and Christian Sprenger behind the camera, the tone is as close to “Teddy Perkins” as anything we’ve seen since.

As soon as the series confirms the haunt is real (and spook-tacular), it kicks off a stellar run of episodes that expand the town lore and sharpen its characters in rapid, imaginative succession. Patricia (Kate O’Flynn), a well-meaning outcast desperate to improve her social standing despite being shunned by the popular kids since high school, earns her spotlight in a diabolical departure episode about throwing a party no one asked for. Flashbacks are deployed as more than mere framing devices, since the past plays an active, exciting role in the town’s present, and there’s an extended drug trip that skillfully manipulates lapsed time through recurring blackouts to keep you on the edge of your seat.

Throughout the detailed narrative that rewards close scrutiny (Steve Arnold’s production design is a constant treat all by itself), the cast thrives. O’Flynn is dialed in, conveying desperation and false confidence through exaggerated mannerisms and rushed, mumbled vocal ticks that capture Patricia’s arrested development so well, the series doesn’t even need a flashback to define what she was like as a lonely teenager. It’s all there in her adult self. Root’s irascible old-timer is right in his wheelhouse, and the “Newsradio” and “Barry” veteran rouses rabble as well as he breeds compassion. Kevin Carroll, as the world-weary sheriff; Jeff Hiller, as a perpetually defeated town staffer; and Dale Dickey, as a know-it-all crabapple, are all strong, memorable, and sticky supporting players.

Rhys, long an expert at instilling indignation with soulful sentiment, gets pushed further here. Like any good horror hero, he’s adept at contorting his face into uniquely specific shades of alarm, just as he’s convincing as a lonely widower trying in vain to put on a brave face for his teenage son (Kingston Rumi Southwick). But while Tom may start off exasperated and depressed, he’s soon humbled and invigorated to hilarious extremes. As the town is engulfed by the haunt, there’s a recognition evident in Rhys’ reactions, as if the horrors Tom’s facing are simultaneously too ludicrous to accept and too familiar to reject. Even when he’s seeing something he’s never seen before, that no one has ever seen before, there’s a hint it’s also something that was lurking in the back of his mind for years, decades, maybe all of his life. Now that it’s here, he can barely believe it. But he has to.

“Widow’s Bay” shares a bit of that inexplicable identification. In terms of sheer imagination, it’s an enthralling first season — so committed to its ghost story that it’s easy to enjoy as an immersive, escapist experience. But it’s also about facing our fears in order to learn to live alongside them; about acknowledging there are forces greater than ourselves out there — societal or spiritual, potentially catastrophic or actively malevolent — and sticking our heads in the sand until they go away isn’t always possible, and rarely is it right.

“Why are you the mayor of this town if you hate everyone?,” the sheriff asks Tom. “Hate” is a bit hyperbolic, but “Widow’s Bay” finds a way to ponder an innately human contradiction with the gravity it warrants, as well as the knowing chuckle it provokes.

Grade: B+

“Widow’s Bay” premieres Wednesday, April 29 on Apple TV with two episodes. New episodes will be released weekly through the finale on June 17.