‘The ’Burbs’ Review: Keke Palmer Brightens Peacock’s Mixed Bag of a Dark Comedy Reboot

It’s a clever twist of The ’Burbs, Peacock’s new series-length spin on the 1989 cult classic, to set its story around not one but two new households on the cul-de-sac. Where Tom Hanks’ Ray was an established local casting a suspicious eye on his eccentric new neighbors, Samira (Keke Palmer) and Rob Fisher (Jack Whitehall) are the new neighbors — at least for a little while, until even fresher meat arrives in the form of Gary (Justin Kirk), a sour-faced recluse.

The shift allows the show to take on a more expansive view of American suburbia: its allure and its hidden dangers, the push-pull it represents between individuality and conformity. But if its ambitions are admirable, the execution is unwieldy. A lumpy, though not unpleasant, mélange of uneven tones, thin characters and less-than-airtight reveals, The ’Burbs may not send anyone running for the hills — but it’s unlikely to inspire anyone to put down stakes there, either.

The dark comedy hails from Celeste Hughey, who, as a veteran of Apple TV’s Palm Royale and Netflix’s Dead to Me, knows from pretty towns hiding ugly secrets. Hinkley Hills (state unspecified) is a knowing cliché of white upper-middle-class bliss, right down to the literal picket fences…which should be a tipoff to anyone who’s ever seen any show set in the suburbs that its oft-repeated slogan — “The safest town in America!” — probably conceals a more sinister truth.

To Rob, who grew up in the very Colonial he and his new wife are taking over now, the move represents a homecoming. To Samira, who up until 18 months ago was a single lawyer in the big city, it’s totally uncharted territory, though she’s hopeful it’ll turn out to be a comfortable haven while she takes maternity leave with their newborn, Miles.

Initially, she’s both charmed by the area (she’s always wanted to see real live fireflies, she marvels) and wary of the neighbors, who can’t seem to introduce themselves without bumbling into eyebrow-raising microaggressions. But it’s not until Gary sets up in the dilapidated Victorian across the street that her suspicion kicks into overdrive. She’s sure he has something to do with the disappearance of a teenage girl two decades earlier — and not just because she’s suffering from boredom and baby brain, she insists, though it surely doesn’t help.

Hughey smartly connects Samira’s obsession with Gary to her anxiety about finding her place when she’s acutely aware of how much she stands out — not just as a Black woman but also for her unfamiliarity with the local culture and even her style, trendy and exuberant in a sea of drab cardigans and tasteful polos. (Trayce Gigi Field serves as costume designer.)

“It’s giving Get Out,” she remarks to Naveen (Kapil Talwalkar), Rob’s childhood bestie and one of the few other non-white Hilltonians. And though he tries to reassure her that the locals “like to think of themselves as nice, so they try to act nice, until they’re actually nice,” it’s hard to blame her for being skeptical when she’s surrounded by people who side-eye her for playing Mystikal’s “Shake Ya Ass” in front of her son, or call the cops on her for attempting a friendly drop-by.

But as Samira falls deeper into the Gary mystery, the larger themes guiding The ’Burbs start to flicker in and out of view. It’s not always clear what the series wants us to make of them, or even how deeply it intends for us to think about them — though there is, I guess, something endearingly honest about a series that seems to be working out its own ambivalence about its setting right there on the screen.

The most winsome aspect of The ’Burbs (and the most persuasive case for sticking with it through a premiere, directed by Nzingha Stewart, that never quite seems able to decide how sardonic or goofy or earnest it means to be) is Palmer herself. The One of Them Days star is capable of sparking chemistry with just about anybody, and she’s downright adorable trading smooches and inside jokes with Whitehall. The two are wholly believable as a couple still early enough in their commitment that they look at each other like they can’t believe their luck.

She’s somehow even more delightful opposite RJ Cyler as Samira’s brother, Langston. His role as the outside voice of reason, mostly checking in from the big city via FaceTime, means his appearances are occasional and (on a strictly plot level) generally irrelevant to the goings-on in Hinkley Hills. But the actor makes such a vivid impression with his limited screen time, and shares such a warm, comfortable rapport with Palmer, that I can only hope he’ll be popping by to babysit more often should The ’Burbs get picked up for a second season.

Elsewhere, the ensemble possesses more potential than depth. Julia Duffy (as recently widowed wine lover Lynn), Paula Pell (as bored ex-Marine Dana) and Mark Proksch (as mysteriously wealthy nerd Tod) are certainly funny as the motley crew trading small-town gossip and eventually Gary-based conspiracy theories with Samira over happy hours on Lynn’s porch. These are comedy professionals who can make the most of an affectionate zinger like Dana describing Tod as “adult Charlie Brown,” or wring laughs just from the way Tod awkwardly taps, rather than shakes, Samira’s hand when they first meet.

But for a long time, they’re collections of quirks to be admired from a distance; they don’t possess the interiority needed to make them feel knowable. On that front, The ’Burbs is hindered by the same problem that plagues so many mysteries of this kind: the need to keep characterizations vague enough that any of them could plausibly turn out to be a killer. It’s not until the biggest puzzle piece falls into place around chapter five, finally clarifying who’s trustworthy and who isn’t, that the ensemble really starts to cohere and the show along with it — and even then, lapses in logic and unaddressed questions take away some of the satisfaction of getting real answers.

Still, in the age of IP cash grabs that do little more than laboriously stretch out storylines that previously worked just fine at feather length, it’s refreshing to see a series treat its source material as more launching board than bible, taking an old premise in totally new directions. Maybe the suburbs, and The ’Burbs, aren’t everything they’re cracked up to be. But for its flashes of inspiration and odd bits of charm, the show is worth raising one of Lynn’s glasses of room-temperature Chardonnay to, all the same.