‘Widow’s Bay’ Review: Apple TV’s Smart Horror Comedy Gets Darker as It Goes

‘Widow’s Bay’ Review: Apple TV’s Smart Horror Comedy Gets Darker as It Goes

A fading island town seeks reinvention through tourism, but its mayor soon realizes the place’s sinister past is very much alive. On Apple TV.

A horror-comedy that gradually sheds its comedic skin as the episodes unfold, Widow’s Bay may not be the most original series around, but it blends familiar genre elements with real confidence. What makes it work is its tone: a careful balance of humor, absurdity, and more traditional horror set pieces that never quite cancel each other out. Across ten episodes, the show follows a probably haunted island run by a slightly eccentric group of local “officials” determined to turn it into a tourist hotspot—an idea that, given what the island is hiding, might not be the smartest.

Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys) is the mayor of this fading New England island, a place that’s a little worn down but still charming in its own offbeat way. Widow’s Bay lacks the appeal of nearby vacation destinations, and Tom is obsessed with modernizing it—turning it into the next Martha’s Vineyard or Nantucket. He has no patience for the local folklore, dismissing the town’s macabre legends as outdated nonsense. The series kicks off with him eagerly awaiting a New York Times travel writer whose recommendation could change the town’s fortunes overnight.

Against all odds—despite everything going wrong during the visit, from creepy stories told by locals to sudden fog, shadowy creatures, strange noises, and a genuinely unsettling museum—the journalist ends up loving Widow’s Bay. A glowing write-up follows, tourists start pouring in, and that’s when the real problems begin. Because little by little, it becomes clear that the island’s legends aren’t marketing gimmicks or harmless folklore—they’re something much more real, and much more dangerous. From that point on, Tom and his team are stuck trying to contain a situation spiraling toward chaos.

Each episode introduces a new eerie conflict, often riffing on classic horror tropes—many of them feeling like they could have been lifted straight out of Stephen King stories. There’s a possibly haunted hotel where things appear that shouldn’t (The Shining), a menacing clown stalking Tom (It), and a subplot involving his assistant Patricia (Kate O’Flynn) that echoes Carrie. Looming over everything is the island’s dark past, a web of legends that may—or may not—explain the increasingly bizarre events.

At first, Widow’s Bay is genuinely funny, especially in the way Tom bends over backward trying to disguise the town’s true nature from incoming tourists. It doesn’t help that the locals are hardly welcoming. Wyck (Stephen Root) is obsessed with the island’s sinister lore and seems intent on terrifying visitors, while the chain-smoking, permanently disheveled Rosemary (Dale Dickey) looks more likely to scare people away than greet them. Tom also has to deal with his rebellious teenage son, who keeps getting into trouble and resents being stuck on the island—unaware that there are very good reasons for that.

As the season progresses, the tone grows darker and the stakes heavier, even if the show never fully abandons its absurdist edge. By the sixth episode—which dives into the island’s history and the origins of its supposed curse, featuring several guest stars—the series leans more fully into a mythology reminiscent of King’s Derry, albeit filtered through a more playful, off-kilter lens.

Created by Katie Dippold (known for Parks & Recreation and the Ghostbusters remake, a film it resembles in tone), and with episodes directed by Hiro Murai (Atlanta) and Ti West (of the X trilogy), the series also pokes fun at a certain kind of tourism—drawn to quaint, “authentic” places supposedly untouched by modernity (there’s no Wi-Fi on the island), yet driven by the same consumerist impulses as anywhere else.

At its core, Widow’s Bay plays like a greatest-hits compilation of horror tropes spread across ten entertaining episodes, anchored by an ensemble that wouldn’t feel out of place in workplace comedies like Parks & Recreation or The Office. In one standout episode, where Tom accidentally gets high while trying to uncover the island’s buried secrets, the show makes its point clear: when it comes to dealing with fear, nothing works quite as well as humor—and a willingness to embrace the ridiculous.