My New Comfort
Just Don’t Stop
Last year Sinners became my comfort watch. I watched in it the theater more than any other film I have ever seen: seven times, which is a wild sentence to write. I drove across state lines to an IMAX theater to see it the way it was originally intended. I made new friends and was asked out by a stranger because of it (I said no).
It was my recurrent comfort watch for multiple reasons. It’s a stunning piece of art on every level: narratively, visually, musically. The kind of art you need to examine more than once, because it’s so layered, you catch something new every time. It’s about community, which I care about more than anything else, in art and in life. I also connected with the film on a personal, emotional level. For seven years, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with an identical twin. Because until last November, he told me I was.
That is partially the reason I need a new comfort watch now. I have learned that breadcrumbing is a trail leading to the mouth of an insatiable wolf, and it’s safer as a woman to face the woods, no matter how dark and thick they are, alone. After so many years of being misled, it’s hard for me to trust the shape of anything.
Good thing I found a haunted island.
I subscribed to AppleTV specifically to watch Widow’s Bay. People I respect had recommended it, writers and artists who, like me, are pretty suspect of new shows; it’s sometimes hard to enjoy stories when you see their twists and turns coming from miles away.
Did I see the plot events coming in Widow’s Bay from across the water? Some of them. But the plot isn’t the point. The characters, the humor, and the community is the point. The island is the point. And what an island it is.
The statue of the town’s founder is headless; it’s never explained. Maybe you’ll get the clown in the captain’s suite at the inn. It’s perfectly safe to swim in the ocean once the mayor does. The church bells are bound in chains. You can be born on the island, but you can never leave. It’s fine to drive by the old hospital. Just don’t stop.
I am a fan of layers and I am a fan of lore. I don’t like answers to be handed to me. I don’t like some answers at all. The scariest things are unnerving, mysterious, and I find fear in art comforting because it’s so removed from the actual horrors of our world. Also, it’s good practice.
Just ask Patricia.
Not that Widow’s Bay is very scary. It’s more a shoutout to classic 60s, 70s, and 80s horror books and films. Widow’s Bay for me, like Sinners, is about a bunch of people doing their best, facing unbelievable difficulties—being tested in a way most people would never believe, let alone be able to deal with. And that a socially awkward librarian, exhausted single dad, stalwart senior citizen, chain-smoking amateur historian, stressed-out sheriff, and blasé city hall employee would band together to get it handled.
The definition of a comfort watch is something repeatedly viewed for stress relief. I do feel safe when I watch Widow’s Bay. I’ve only seen it once, though I’m doing a marathon of the whole series with my son, and I did re-watch the finale and a certain favorite episode almost immediately after finishing them. If you know, you know.
I feel safety and I feel belonging. I really like the community of Widow’s Bay, as I did the community of Sinners. Both take time to get established, which is also like life. And the horrors of both only further underline the urgency of love. We are in this together. We must help each other. We are the only ones who are coming.
What’s different about this day on the island? The horrors are back. I mean, same.