‘The ‘Burbs’ Is A Formulaic Cul-De-Sac That Struggles To Make Its Case [TV Review]

Television and film currently exist during an often-cynical era in which intellectual property and brand recognition often mean more than a good idea. It’s the new normal for everything from Four Weddings and a Funeral to Boomerang to receive television adaptations. There’s more money in prequels to Rosemary’s Baby and The Omen than there is in an original occult horror story that wrestles with the same themes. Any broad IP that the audience vaguely remembers and is in the studio’s library is suddenly fair game for a streaming revival.

So, while nobody necessarily needs a ten-episode version of Joe Dante’s The ‘Burbs, a subversive dark comedy cult classic from the ‘80s, it’s as good an idea as any.

Unfortunately, like many of these IP-driven endeavors, Peacock’s The ‘Burbs is a deeply generic property that doesn’t bring many new ideas to the table. It’s tapping into the same territory as Based on a True Story, Your Friends & Neighbors, The Resort, or any of the other crime-infused suburban dramas. It’s just regrettably the least interesting of the lot in what’s becoming an increasingly crowded subgenre that’s sapping these stories of their impact. The new series feels five years too late, and it fails to rise above its peers or justify its existence. What felt edgy and innovative back in the ‘90s is now just status quo. Comfortable chemistry and quirky characters aren’t enough to warrant an extended stay in The ‘Burbs.

Much like in Dante’s original film, the series creates tension when the desire for a quiet and slowed-down suburban life for Samira (Keke Palmer) and Rob (Jack Whitehall) turns into an eerie exercise in paranoia. A foreboding new neighbor triggers an avalanche of unease where mysteries and mistrust play out on a sliding scale. Rumors over a house’s allegedly haunted nature evolve into more serious questions that eat away at the entire cul-de-sac.

Created by Celeste Hughey, who has worked on High Fidelity, Dead to Me, and Palm Royale, The ‘Burbs definitely bears the closest resemblance to Dead to Me. It’s a black comedy that comfortably lives in shades of grey. Hughey’s take on The ‘Burbs feels both appropriate and timely, but struggles to establish much of a distinct identity for itself, especially when what was under examination in the original movie has now become so commonplace in serialized dramas.

The casual chemistry between Palmer and Whitehall does a lot of this heavy lifting in The ‘Burbs. This extends to the supporting cast of eccentric individuals, which includes Justin Kirk, Paula Pell, and Mark Proksch, who are all standouts who get opportunities to match Palmer’s crazy. There’s a Greek chorus component to this mystery-obsessed cul-de-sac, even if it often suffers from forced dialogue and awkward jokes that don’t land. Everyone harbors massive secrets and possesses closets that are so crammed full of skeletons that they’re practically mausoleums.

Another hurdle that’s faced with the modern streaming structure is that episodes’ length and pacing are a mess. Episodes are around 40 minutes each, but they drag their way to the finish line. One can’t help but wonder if a season of 25-minute episodes that was a few entries longer would have been a better approach.

The ‘Burbs benefits from a stylized and ultra-saturated look that’s more reminiscent of Barry Sonnenfeld and Tim Burton than Joe Dante, but it’s a vibe that still succeeds whenever it’s present. It immediately highlights the seedy underbelly quality that’s essential to The ‘Burbs, even for those who have never seen Dante’s original film that the series is broadly pulling inspiration from.

The season is handled by plenty of journeymen directors, like Yana Gorskaya, Rachel Goldberg, and Nzingha Stewart, all of whom are well-versed in TV productions. They contribute to a uniform house style that, unfortunately, doesn’t emerge often enough. The premiere is the season’s most heightened entry, but it acts as if an excess of visual flair can make up for the rest of the season’s mediocrity.

There’s a lot being said in The ‘Burbs, but at its core, it’s a meditation on isolation and assimilation, without ever going full Stepford Wives or Body Snatchers. This gradually morphs into a story about shame, regret, and closure. Some of the subgenre’s tropes get pushed to such a comical fever pitch that it seems like a scene is meant to be a parody, only for it to instead be treated gravely serious. Some minor tonal adjustments and a basic level of trust in the audience without hitting them over the head with cliches would make such a difference here.

Alternatively, the series also engages in some genuinely uncomfortable territory where it’s willing to bare its teeth and reveal a scathing prejudice that hits harder than any of the season’s plot twists. It’s a strange, singular moment, and the only time that The ‘Burbs feels like it has a distinct point of view and attempts anything risky.

The support that surrounds Samira during this raw encounter is heartwarming. It leaves her feeling loved and like she’s actually a part of a community. It’s kind of beautiful that something positive can be born out of such a cruel act of profiling. It’s still a difficult moment that successfully disarms the breezy vibes and broad comedy that lead up to the conflict.

The ‘Burbs is a darkly comic murder mystery where the laughs aren’t strong or consistent enough, and its mystery isn’t creative or compelling enough to make any of this stand out. That’s not to say that The ‘Burbs is bad. It features decent performances and mediocre chuckles. It’s all totally serviceable, albeit completely forgettable, especially in such an increasingly bloated landscape.

Even with its cliffhanger ending and clear hopes for a second season that continues this story, it’s hard to imagine anyone talking about The ‘Burbs in two months, let alone the hypothetical two years that it’d take for more episodes.

The entire first season of The ‘Burbs will available to stream on February 8 on Peacock.

 

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