Widow’s Peak is rich and wonderful. Grownup, funny, scary, true – Mare of Easttown meets Schitt’s Creek, but with something else that makes it singular.

Widow’s Bay plays like a mixtape of the Master of the Macabre’s work, compiling stock horror archetypes and scenarios before running them through a mondo bizarro filter.

A charmingly ghoulish saga about a locale beset by the sins of the past. It’s also, to date, the best new show of the year.

This is a comedy that would sink or swim based on its lead performances. And it’s owing to Rhys that this ends up being such a buoyant show.

It doesn’t aim for the grandiose allegory or psychological character development that defines so much “elevated horror,” nor does it chasten its sense of humor to appeal to a wide-ranging audience. Instead, like any good vacation spot, it focuses on simply giving its guests a good time.

At first, you might not be so sure that you've chosen the right travel destination, but Widow's Bay becomes a haunting, deeply rewarding, and oddly charming series if you stick with it.

The failure to flesh out the population of Widow’s Bay beyond a handful of characters doesn’t just undermine its sense of place. It deprives the show of something every good horror story needs: victims. Although the season grows eerier as Tom discovers more of the island’s dreadful backstory, it’s rare that anything terrible happens to anyone we truly care about.