Straight away, to be clear, Teacup is a corker of small-scale science fiction paranoia. It clearly has thoughts about life in our country and the world on its mind. It utilizes the genre’s potential for metaphor well throughout.
Still, one feels compelled to note that series creator Ian McCulloch has barely adapted Stinger by Robert McCammon. Instead of a Texas town circling the drain, the setting is a few farmsteads in rural Georgia. There are fewer characters—none of the characters in the book are present—and subplots like the rival gangs and desperate economic conditions don’t exist. As a result, the season jettisons a lot of themes, such as explorations of racial prejudice, crimes real and imagined, and “dying” rural communities. While the show still uses its tale to reflect some larger modern-day concerns, those not interrogated still constitute a loss. Without them, Teacup tells a far smaller story.
All of that acknowledged, it is essential to review the series as it exists, not as it could’ve been. So while a closer adaptation done well would’ve likely yielded a richer story, this is the last this review will make mention of it. Moreover, I have no intention of holding that possibility against the show as it exists.
Maggie (Yvonne Strahovski) and James (Scott Speedman) Chenoweth are struggling. Unbeknownst to their kids, Meryl (Emilie Bierre) and Arlo (Caleb Dolden), James has strayed from their marriage. The presence of James’ mother, who self-medicates to deal with symptoms of Parkinson’s, only adds to the strain.
There’s little time for on-screen marital strife, though, before things start getting strange. The horses in the area begin to act off. Other pets run off into the woods. Cell phones and radios start to crackle with bursts of static before losing the signal entirely. Then, with nightfall, the neighbors start to show up with odd issues of their own. More troubling, Arlo goes missing in the woods behind the field.
As Maggie, a vet, attempts to see to the suddenly self-injurious horse of the Shanley family—dad Ruben (Chaske Spencer), mom Valeria (Diany Rodriguez), and son Nicholas (Luciano Leroux)—the power goes out. Another set of neighbors, Donald (Boris McGiver) and Claire (Holly A. Morris) Kelly, arrive. Finally, they find Arlo. Relief is short-lived, though, as he appears to be in shock, covered in blood, and muttering a series of seemingly disconnected phrases. Some are even in Spanish, a language neither he nor his parents speak. A man in a gas mask arrives, circling their properties in blue spray paint and warning them not to cross. One character gorily demonstrates why.
Speaking of the gore, it is almost entirely limited to the start and end of the season. Moreover, the effect of crossing the line is no mere bloodbath. It’s gross, for sure, but there’s a specificity to it. That lends it a certain strange artistry. You can find blood and guts rendered in a like manner in other works, but the willingness to not do the most obvious thing is appreciated. Additionally, it speaks to how Teacup effectively wields its limited budget to still give the season a sense of otherworldliness.
It doesn’t take long before things feel like The Thing, Farmhouse Edition, as dueling alien presences increasingly assert their will on the gathered families. A sense of paranoia pervades the season’s middle episodes, mirroring people in America’s current unease with their neighbors, even those they’ve known for years. The “who can you trust” struggles are generic. While Donald is initially pretty clearly conservative coded, no one else gets that initial bit push. Moreover, almost every adult unapologetically wields firearms within an episode or two. Additionally, Donald receives a swift and significant softening.
Those choices bring a sort of equilibrium to whatever politics one might try to read into. The lack of specificity dulls the metaphor some, perhaps, but its generalization lets it stand in for more than just division by political party. A “well, he never acted like an alien murderer around me” vibe, if you will.
The season loses points in two places. First, as strong as the storytelling often is, much of the action feels cribbed from other stronger works. There’s the already noted The Thing similarities. One character’s struggles feel similar to Jack Torrance in The Shining. The body jumping and a particular earworm’s connection to it recalls the underappreciated 1998 Denzel Washington vehicle Fallen. As always, “good artists copy, great artists steal,” but sometimes the inspiration or predecessor peeks through a bit too much.
Second, it stumbles to its end. Part of this is the reveal that Teacup isn’t a limited series. The creators intend it to be an ongoing series, making these episodes just Season 1. This is certainly a current personal pet peeve but shows that nearly tell a whole story only to veer off the path in the final 10 minutes to give room for future seasons are an increasing source of frustration. Tell the story. If a sequel should prove possible and wanted, there’ll always be a way back into it.
The second issue at the season’s end is that while it has some of the best acting from Strahovski and Speedman, the episode’s pacing is a mess. After two episodes of building dread in which the creative team seems to have their hands fully on the handle, episode 8 spins wildly, rushing at times, dragging at others. As a result, the coiling sense of tension the rest of Teacup has utilized well suddenly unravels unsatisfyingly. The emotional stakes help to paper over some seams, but alas, not all.
Teacup may ultimately stir up a maelstrom it can’t fully contain. Nonetheless, along the way, it delivers a down-to-earth exploration of humanity’s twin tendencies towards cooperation and destruction. It then pairs it well with a healthy dose of otherworldly threats that unnerve.
Teacup gets laid out on the saucer that is Peacock starting October 10.