What do we have here? Some of my very favorite actors — Alfred Molina, Alfre Woodard, Clarke Peters and Geena Davis — starring in an eight-episode, B-grade sci-fi comedy-drama, “The Boroughs,” now streaming on Netflix.
Molina plays Sam Cooper, a retired engineer — that will be important — being brought grumbling to the Boroughs, a posh, city-sized retirement community plopped down in the middle of the Southwestern desert. Sam’s late wife, Lily (Jane Kaczmarek, in flashbacks and dreams), had planned the move, but she died suddenly, while they were dancing to Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road,” which will become a kind of trigger and motif going forth. Still, fate — in the form of daughter Claire (Jena Malone) and son-in-law Neil (Rafael Casal) — has pushed him solo to the Boroughs and a house on a cul-de-sac. (Seen from above, the town is laid out in a series of concentric circles, as EPCOT was meant to be when Walt Disney was alive and it stood for Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow. That has no relation to this show; I’m just throwing it out to the fans.)
Before this happens, however, we get a preamble. Is that Dee Wallace, the mother from “E.T.: The Extraterrestrial,” as Grace, a former occupant of Sam’s new home? (Why, yes it is.) Grabbed one night by something clearly not human, she’ll leave the show before the first credit rolls; but we’ll know from the start that there’s a monster on the loose. And even before Sam has settled in, he’ll be attacked by her now-widowed husband, Edward (Ed Begley Jr.), who has escaped to his old house from the Manor — a memory care unit more reminiscent of something out of “Squid Game” than anywhere you’d want to park a beloved fading parent — muttering “The key is in the light, the owl is in the wall,” and thereby turning Sam detective.
The joint is run by young Blaine Shaw (Seth Numrich), who supposedly took it over from his father, who took it over from his father before him, with Hollywood-blond wife Anneliese (Alice Kremelberg) by his side. (It is perhaps no accident that we’re also served a background clip from “Double Indemnity,” featuring a blond Barbara Stanwyck.) They radiate a kind of vampiric smoothness, and it will take you no longer to realize that something’s up with these two than it takes to say “Something’s up with these two.”
Mired in grief, Sam is initially reluctant to interact with his new neighbors, until former weatherman Jack (Bill Pullman) breaks down his defenses. Judy Daniels (Woodard) used to be a reporter, her husband Art (Peters) is a pot-smoking old hippie who pretends to go golfing but heads off to a ghost town where he grows mushrooms, “searching for proof that there’s more to life than just knockin’ about and hangin’ out.” Wally Baker (Denis O’Hare) used to be a doctor, but now needs one. (It’s cancer, and terminal, though it doesn’t show.) They have complicated relationships, but there’s nothing better for ironing things out than creeping together through dark tunnels by flashlight, hoping that nothing jumps out at you, engaging in weightless banter as you go.
Davis plays Renee Joyce, a former music manager who came to the Boroughs to stay with her mother after Renee’s husband stole her money, and stuck around; I think she’s meant to be younger than the rest, but if you want to look up Davis’ age, I will wait here while you gasp in astonishment. She’ll hook up with friendly young security guard Paz Navarro (Carlos Miranda); he played drums in a band once, and they were both at Glastonbury in 2010 and love Barbra Streisand. (What are the odds?) He’ll have a lot to do when a Scooby Gang — that old, invaluable, incredibly satisfying trope — finally comes together.
The series was created by Jeffrey Addiss and Will Matthews, who were co-writers on the 2018 Henson Co. puppet epic “The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance,” from which they have imported a central plot device regarding vital essences and a magical matriarchal figure. (Called “Mother” there and here.) Their 2020 dying girlfriend film “Life in a Year,” directed by Mitja Okorn, has some thematic mirroring here, as well — death hovers over the story — and it seems probable that somewhere in the series’ gestation, they discussed Ron Howard’s 1985 science-fiction flick “Cocoon,” with its retirement home setting and senior-citizen heroes.
Sewn together from these and other scraps of previous paranormal adventure stories, “The Boroughs” is almost entirely predictable — not a criticism, in this context, since surprises in such a story are liable to bring bad news, and our affection for its heroes ought not to be sacrificed in the name of dramatic effect. That is not the kind of sacrifice the age needs, and this is not that kind of series. Nor is B-grade a pejorative, but rather an honorable tradition, especially when it comes to sci-fi and horror. (We’ll get a glimpse of Roger Corman’s original “Little Shop of Horrors” playing on a TV — cathode ray, of course.) Once you get on its wavering wavelength — sentimental, sincere, sweet, a little silly, not overly concerned with making perfect sense — and realize the show is not out to hurt you, it’s a very enjoyable watch.
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