KEKE PALMER'S “THE BURBS” REMAKE MAKES SUBURBIA SILLY, SUSPICIOUS, AND SO MUCH FUN

I am not a suburban girl. And honestly, every time I hear friends talk about the ins and outs—the HOAs, the unspoken rules, the politics of a cul-de-sac—it just confirms that I made the right call. I tried it once. Two years of potlucks, garden parties, and people I barely knew all up in my business before I had to take my ass back to the city.

Now, I’ve lived in my building for over four years and couldn’t name a single other person in it. Aaah, lovely.

So yes, Peacock’s The ’Burbs—a reimagining inspired by the 1989 Tom Hanks cult classic—was always going to hit a little close to home. The series revisits murder-laced cul-de-sacs and suburban paranoia à la Desperate Housewives, but with a campy edge and one very important focal point: a massive, abandoned pink Victorian that practically begs to be investigated.

MILD SPOILERS FOR "THE 'BURBS" FROM THIS POINT

Safest Town in America Has a Lot of People Desperate to Leave.

Samira (played by a ridiculously charming Keke Palmer) and Rob (played by an equally charming Jack Whitehall) move into his childhood home in the small town of Hinkley Hills, proudly branded "The Safest Town in America." Newly married with a baby boy, they seem like the picture of suburban stability—until you realize Samira is an urbanite litigator now stuck on maternity leave in a place where the main pastime is watching your neighbors through slightly cracked blinds.

Naturally, she gets twitchy.

She befriends a few equally curious residents, but nothing captivates her like the cotton-candy-colored "haunted house" at the top of the street. When she learns that a teenage girl who once lived there vanished without a trace, her intuition kicks into high gear. At first, you might chalk it up to boredom. Then again, Rob is clearly hiding something, a mysterious new neighbor moves in, and The ’Burbs starts twisting itself into an episode-by-episode spiral of secrets.

Early on, The ’Burbs establishes its tone with eerie efficiency. On Ashfield Place, Samira and Rob take an evening walk, chatting about their whirlwind romance, living under his parents’ landlord reign, and her plans for the rest of maternity leave. Then a murder of crows descends on the towering pink Victorian, shattering the calm. The Hinkley House looks wildly out of place among the pristine homes—and it immediately skeeves Samira out.

As a civil litigation lawyer, she’s determined to approach suburban life with optimism. While Rob and Naveen commute to the city, Samira builds a routine through exhaustion and isolation: folding laundry, explaining the Kendrick Lamar–Drake beef to a baby, taking hot-girl night walks, and playing Juvenile’s "Back That Azz Up" on repeat. (Motherhood, amiright?)

After meeting neighbors Lynn, Dana, and Tod, Samira starts to realize that Rob knows far more about the pink house—and the missing girl—than he’s admitting.

Over the season, she leans fully into her inner investigator, digging through the history of Hinkley House, Rob’s teenage years, and the sudden arrival of its new owner, Gary (played by Justin Kirk). We also get a closer look at Hinkley Hills’ internal politics, especially through its tyrannical HOA president, Agnes (played by a delightfully unhinged Danielle Kennedy), who runs the neighborhood with a rulebook, a clipboard, and the looming threat of her dog Darla’s massive lawn-defiling poops.

This is creepy comedy, yes—but it’s also powered by emotional baggage that refuses to stay buried. Is it silly? Absolutely. Is it entertaining? Also yes. Peacock was smart to drop all eight episodes at once, because the show is less a steak dinner and more a midnight snack. Which is perfect if the heavier thriller offerings of late have been weighing you down.

It's Giving Get Out.

Anchored by Keke Palmer, the show wouldn't hit nearly as hard without everything and everyone that surrounds her Samira. Namely, the show’s supporting cast, who feel like they wandered in from three different genres—and somehow it works. There’s Julia Duffy as Lynn, the pristine homemaker who never lets anyone inside her house. SNL writer turned actress Paula Pell as Dana, a former Marine who never leaves the neighborhood (and yes, we do find out why). What We Do in the Shadows's Mark Proksch as Tod, who seems equally likely to be a government spy or a Dungeon Master (maybe both). And Kapil Talwalkar as Naveen, Rob’s childhood best friend, who gives "low-key famous DJ" energy but would absolutely have already told everyone if that were true.

Showrunner Celeste Hughey (best known for Palm Royale and Dead to Me) plays directly to these actors’ strengths. Even when the writing wobbles, the performances don’t. Unlike the original film, the mystery here isn’t immediately obvious, and the final cliffhanger genuinely sneaks up on you. Palmer, Pell, Proksch, and Talwalkar seem to be having the time of their lives, yet they treat even show’s most absurd moments with complete sincerity.

What elevates The ’Burbs beyond a standard suburban thriller is how it engages with race and psychological unease. The show echoes the thematic tension of Jordan Peele’s Get Out, grounding its horror in social reality. Samira isn’t just a new mom finding her footing—she’s a Black woman navigating a predominantly white space where she’s immediately othered.

And the series refuses to sugarcoat this experience.

Microaggressions, overt racism, and subtle power dynamics shape her daily life, eventually extending even to her marriage. Her growing distrust of Rob feels emotionally earned, not manufactured. These choices deepen the narrative and give the show its most unsettling edge.

By the end, The ’Burbs is juggling a lot: revelations about Rob’s past, the truth behind Hinkley House, and the secrets lurking behind seemingly perfect front doors. And yes—spoiler alert—there's a cliffhanger ending (not my fave). But it mostly sticks the landing. And I'm definitely dialed in enough to tune in next season to see what happens next.

The show unfolds like a puzzle, anchored by engaging performances and a sharp understanding of how far people will go to maintain the illusion of perfection. And frankly? It’s enough to make me even more grateful for my anonymous apartmenthood and my blissful lack of HOA meetings.

4.5/5 ★: A campy, funny murder-laced cul-de-sac à la Desperate Housewives.