Gabriel Kuchta/Peacock
The master of horror lends his name, a musical theme, and—for one pitiful episode—his “remote directing” talents to John Carpenter’s Suburban Screams, a work of verité schlock that sullies his reputation and insults its audience’s intelligence. Premiering on Peacock in time for Halloween, this six-part affair (out Oct. 13) is a subpar hybrid of Unsolved Mysteries and the various small-screen paranormal series that recount tales of the unknown via unconvincing testimonials and even less believable dramatic recreations. It may announce, at the start of each installment, that “The Following Is a True Story,” but only the most gullible will buy the majority of what this dopey endeavor is selling.
For pure embarrassing hilarity, nothing in John Carpenter’s Suburban Screams tops its third hour, “The House Next Door,” in which a man relays his experiences in 1986 Jamul, California, living across from a haunted abode that was home to his first adolescent love, Jennifer, as well as his teenage crush, Lisa, whose dad was a dentist.
His saga is part Rear Window and part ’80s teen horror film, replete with people being pulled back into the dark by unseen forces and a synth score borrowed from Stranger Things. Its every aspect is a genre cliché, and if that weren’t bad enough, the storyteller’s name is Dr. Torrence (as in Jack, from The Shining), his homicidal adversary tries to break down a bathroom door with an axe in an attempt to kill his harried wife and kids, and in that sequence, the show literally mimics Stanley Kubrick’s compositional framing. Rarely has a “reality” series so brazenly owned up to its own fictitiousness—and that’s without mentioning that Dr. Torrence’s friend (the sole other person who’s interviewed in this chapter) is named, I kid you not, Mike Myers.