At Peacock's polite request, I can’t share much about their new thriller, Teacup.
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| Yvonne Strahovski in 'Teacup.' Courtesy Peacock |
I can’t reveal the plot, even though it’s based on Robert McCammon’s novel Stinger, which is easy to look up. I can’t tell you what happens to most of the main characters, though I wouldn’t have been inclined to do so anyway.
I can’t discuss the cheesy special effect that inspired the show’s colorful title treatment — and honestly, no one will be thrilled by its eventual reveal.
However, one thing I can say is the last line of the season finale, without giving away who says it or the context: “We’re not going anywhere until you tell us what the fuck is going on.” Most viewers will have already said this to themselves in frustration, as the show drags its feet, deliberately withholding key details until the last moment.
It’s an irritating but logical choice because Teacup only becomes sillier as more information is unveiled.
The fifth episode, clocking in at 51 minutes and heavy on flashbacks, is where the show loses its pace and turns from intriguing, though emotionally distant, to downright tedious.
So, what can I share about Teacup?
Adapted by Ian McCulloch (Yellowstone), it opens with a woman stumbling through the woods, hands zip-tied, muttering something about a “Murder Marker.” Meanwhile, the Chenoweth family is introduced. Maggie, a veterinarian, demonstrates heavy-handed symbolism to her son Arlo by trapping a wasp in a teacup, foreshadowing the chaos to come.
Maggie’s family includes her daughter Meryl, who’s well-versed in Shakespeare and cow anatomy, her husband James, who’s in trouble for predictable reasons, and her mother-in-law Ellen, who has MS. Their animals are behaving strangely.
Their neighbors, the Shanleys, are also affected. Ruben, Valeria, and their son Nicholas each have a single defining trait. Ruben is intense, Valeria is also in hot water, and Nicholas enjoys bad jokes. Another neighbor, Don, seems to be the token “conservative” character, thanks to a sarcastic comment about COVID.
Before long, everyone is trapped on the Chenoweth property. Phones and cars stop working, and straying too far leads to dire consequences. There’s a lurking evil that can take any form.
The first few episodes, directed by Evan Katz and Chloe Acuno (executive produced by James Wan), manage some creepiness, set in a Rural Anywhere outside Atlanta. The show hints at something allegorical but fails to deliver any real commentary on modern communal life.
Instead, Teacup feels like an empty parable. The characters lack depth, the plot rehashes countless horror and sci-fi tropes, and it eventually becomes a poor imitation of The Thing. The show’s creators withhold answers, hoping viewers will stick around.
Despite solid performances from the cast, the mystery overshadows any emotional connection. At one point, characters list the body count, and I realized I couldn’t remember a single meaningful death. You don’t root for anyone; you just hope someone demands answers soon.
If Teacup were actually scary, many flaws could be forgiven. Unfortunately, it’s not. The mysterious figure in a vintage gas mask is unsettling at first, but the more it appears, the less impact it has.
The show hopes the COVID parallels will add depth, but instead, viewers are expected to accept all of the bizarre details without question, especially after the writers essentially throw in the towel during the fifth episode.
There’s one disturbing event I can’t spoil. The first time it happens, it’s gross and shocking. By the second time, the shock wears off. By the third, it’s just dull.
If the final line of the season weren’t enough to sum up Teacup, perhaps its use of Linda Ronstadt’s cover of Tom Petty’s “The Waiting” in the finale is. It’s not that “the waiting is the hardest part”; it’s that, for eight episodes, waiting is the only part. Maybe you’ll stick with it, but I lost interest.
