Teacup Is an Understated Horror With Nothing New to Say
James Wan’s latest scary story tries to turn nothing into something.
Horror stories are nothing without their human element. It’s harder to be moved by the things that go bump in the night without an everyman, scream queen, or final girl to connect with. But sometimes — as is the case with Peacock’s latest offering, the oddly-named Teacup — thrills and chills take a backseat to pedestrian woes. That’s not bad when it’s balanced well, but this eight-part slow burn often struggles to get its balance right.
Produced by James Wan and developed by Yellowstone writer Ian McCulloch, Teacup is surprisingly subdued for a horror-thriller. In some ways, that’s a boon. The series gives us time to get to know its protagonists, a disparate group of neighbors living off the land in rural Georgia. Long before Teacup begins to unspool its quasi-supernatural mystery, we’re meant to understand who our heroes are, from the intricacies of their inner lives to the drama that threatens to undo them. That helps viewers stay invested, given that this mystery box is in no rush to give up its secrets, but interpersonal melodrama takes an overwhelming priority over eerie scares and genre worldbuilding. The result is a series that’s more in love with the minutiae than its big ideas.
Teacup revolves around the Chenoweths, an all-American family whose quaint farmhouse doubles as their small community’s animal clinic. At first glance, it’s an average life. Matriarch Maggie (Yvonne Strahovski) and her husband James (Scott Speedman) are working through a rough patch — and trying to adjust to a new housemate in James’ mom, Ellen (Kathy Baker) — but are otherwise fine. Just on the outskirts of their property, however, the world seems to be coming undone. Their animals are inexplicably reckless, and their electricity is on the fritz. It’s like a storm’s coming, and it’s not long before that chaos meets the Chenoweths at their door.
To reveal the threat would betray Teacup’s central mystery, one the series wants to preserve for as long as possible. Whether its secrecy is warranted remains to be seen, especially as so much of its plot feels cherrypicked from other, better stories. The Chenoweths wind up stuck on their property, along with a few of their neighbors, when a man in a gas mask (Rob Morgan) paints a border around their house. By writing ominous commands on a handy whiteboard, he instructs our heroes not to cross that line or trust anyone; the most stubborn of them will test those instructions at their own peril.
What lurks in the wilderness surrounding the Chenoweths’ property is vaguely paranormal. Maggie and James’ young son Arlo (Caleb Dolden) returns from the woods with a voice in his head warning them to hide or perish. That checks “creepy conduit kid” off the list of horror tropes to hit, and it won’t be the last that Teacup tries to make its own.
Teacup is too invested in its own minutiae to ever get rolling.
The series is at its best when leaning into pastoral paranoia, revealing bits and pieces of its mystery box with slow, patient efficiency. For all its promising choices, though, Teacup is doggedly committed to its “slow and steady” strategy. Its most interesting revelations are few and far between, and the series attempts to fill the gaps by diving deeper into the inner lives of its vaguely sketched characters.
There’s a lot of emphasis, for example, on Maggie’s relationship with James, whose infidelity threatens to tear the family apart. That bleeds into most of Teacup’s dynamics, and in any other drama, that might be enough to drive the plot forward. Compared to the sporadic body horror and the looming supernatural threat, however, it’s just not enough to keep things engaging. Like the adage the series takes inspiration from, this lowkey horror story is a trivial event blown out of proportion.
