Widow’s Bay: Season 1 - Review

Rating: 5 out of 5

WITHOUT question, Widow’s Bay was one of the best new TV shows of 2026 - a perfect blend of comedy and horror that also displayed plenty of heart.

Co-developed by writer-creator Katie Dippold (a writer on Parks & Recreation) and Hiro Murai (of Mr & Mrs Smith and Barry fame), the show somehow managed to mix out and out horror (via homages galore) with laugh out loud comedy without ever losing either dramatic momentum or feeling lop-sided.

It also managed to be consistently surprising, keeping you on the edge of your seat as you tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

Set on the island of the show’s title [Widow’s Bay], the story follows its mayor, Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys), as he tries to whip up a tourist trade that could rescue the idyllic setting from its current slumber.

But just as he successfully lures a New York Times writer to the island, who immediately sees it as an undiscovered gem akin to Martha’s Vineyard, alcoholic fisherman Wyck (Stephen Root) begins to deliver warnings about the island’s centuries old curse, urging him not to allow people to come.

Tom, of course, ignores the warnings, writing them off as the murmurings of a mad man. But it isn’t long before he is forced to confront the grim reality: that the island is, indeed, ‘waking up’ and unleashing all manner of horrors upon its incumbents.

These extend to a hotel room in which time passes differently, chained church bells that begin tolling, dangerous fog, sea hags, a killer clown, a boogeyman serial killer and spell casting books that bring about pagan rituals.

These, in turn, bring equal parts unease, gore and nail-biting tension… the horror elements of the story seldom watered down by the comedy; but sitting incredibly comfortably alongside it.

And the comedy comes from both the reactions as well as the interplay between the characters - much of which has an everyday small-town kind of vibe that digs into the frustrations and rituals of living within such a small community (much in the same way that Parks & Recreation leant into the comedy that exists between co-workers).

The joys here are manifold and cross genres.

It’s engaging to see where the next laugh will be derived from, while spending time in the company of the characters is frequently a delight - the ensemble cast bring plenty of personality and nuance to their roles, as well as the odd surprise.

But perhaps one of the biggest pleasures is trying to guess the various references that are liberally sprinkled throughout.

Steven Spielberg’s Jaws is a big one - not least for the way in which it places the island’s initially ignorant and bull-headed mayor front and centre. The Martha’s Vineyard reference is a great gag in itself… but so is the subversion of the mayor role. Where Jaws’ incumbent mayor was a self-serving lunatic, Rhys brings a great deal of complexity and even humanity to a role that offers so much to play with.

Watching him pivot between pig-headed arrogance to sheer terror infused with comedy is mesmerising, especially in the way that it also opens up further emotions such as grief at the death of his wife, and frustration as no longer being able to connect with his bored, rebellious teenage son.

It’s a masterclass of a performance that underlines the actor’s range.

Jaws is also referenced in other ways, too, such as a moment in which Tom takes to the water to honour a swimming tradition and finds himself pursued by a hidden underwater menace. There’s even a boat scene in which Root’s character gets to recall a key moment in his own personal history (a la Robert Shaw).

But Spielberg’s iconic blockbuster is just one of many. The killer clown nods to Stephen King’s It, while the fog nods to King’s The Mist. The haunter/cursed book owes more than a passing nod to similarly evil books like Evil Dead, while the conclusion of that episode, in which the islanders become possessed and take to a bonfire lit beach to partake in a mass drowning, has something of a folk horror vibe akin to The Wicker Man.

And then there’s the serial killer element, with one horror character terrorising one of the main characters in a similar vein to Halloween’s Michael Myers.

It’s a measure of the grip that Dippold and Murai have on proceedings that each reference isn’t conveyed as a parody (despite the use of humour) but as a clever homage, often tapping into the same kind of terror and dread that accompanied those films and their characters, while also somehow successfully surrounding it with humour.

This could have been a tonal mess. But it’s pitch-perfect.

The characters, too, are genuinely worth spending time with - not just Rhys.

Root’s Wyck is exemplary, channelling at times the borderline madness of Shaw’s Quint, with an increasingly calming air of authority and a really nice connection with Rhys. He almost becomes something of a father-figure to him.

But then there’s Kate O’Flynn as Tom’s chief assistant, Patricia, who expertly combines deadpan humour with a borderline unhinged aura that brings an air of uncertainty to her. It lends her something of an offbeat quality that is equally tempered by a vulnerability born from her character’s own past trauma and the reluctance of fellow islanders to believe her.

Of note, too, are Kevin Carroll, as the island’s increasingly beleaguered (and desperate) sheriff Bechir; K Callan, as Tom’s elderly and somewhat jittery assistant Ruth (who comes into her own during the surprisingly emotional final episode), and Kingston Rumi Southwick, as Tom’s put upon son Evan (who is also still grieving the absence of his mother).

All contribute to the rich tapestry that Dippold and Murai have created… a series that functions on many levels and which is also deceptively moving and fiercely intelligent - especially in its examination and deconstruction of genre tropes and the themes contained within them (such as the nature of evil, grief, success and family).

Widow’s Bay deservedly became a word of mouth smash during its run on Apple TV - and one that quickly got renewed for at least another season.

It’s an instant classic that lives long (and very favourably) in the memory.

Certificate: 15

Episodes: 10