Coldwater Review: The Creepiest Midlife Crisis on TV

TL;DR

Coldwater is what happens when suburbia snaps, puts on a cardigan, and starts smiling at you too long.

Coldwater is a beautifully shot, deeply strange, occasionally brilliant mess. It’s not smooth. It’s not comforting. It’s not sensible. But it is memorable. Like a dinner party where the host smiles too much and the dessert might be poisoned.

Coldwater already made you distrust your neighbors. Good.

👉 Victorinox Swiss Army Knife

For emergencies, paranoia, and cutting cheese while judging people.

Or: Moving to the Countryside Was a Mistake

Coldwater sells you the fantasy of escape. Fresh air. Friendly locals. A clean slate. And then immediately beats you with it using a shovel made of suppressed trauma and badly hidden lunacy. This is not a show about cops saving the day. This is a show about people unraveling like cheap Christmas decorations while pretending everything’s fine. CRIMENET approves. The criminals aren’t glamorous, but they’re at least honest about being broken, which is more than can be said for the so-called pillars of the community.

A Slow Burn Lit With Damp Matches

The plot crawls. Not in a poetic, prestige-TV way. More like a confused badger that’s forgotten why it entered the room. Things happen slowly, then suddenly, then not at all, then something deeply alarming occurs and everyone politely ignores it like a fart at a church bake sale. It’s baffling. It’s frustrating. It’s also hypnotic, because you keep thinking: Surely this can’t get stranger. Reader, it absolutely does.

Everyone Needs Therapy Yesterday

Our lead is a man having an identity crisis so severe it should come with a warning label. He reacts to danger the way a wet paper bag reacts to fire. His neighbours, meanwhile, radiate the kind of friendliness normally reserved for people who absolutely have a basement you shouldn’t ask about. The performances are intense, committed, and occasionally so unhinged you wonder if someone swapped the script for a ransom note halfway through production. And yet, it works. Like a car with three wheels and a horn that screams.

Who Talks Like This?

People in Coldwater speak like they’re auditioning for a village play called Secrets, But Louder.

Conversations drift into menace without warning. Casual remarks feel like threats. Threats feel like tea invitations. It’s either incredibly clever or completely accidental. Possibly both. The writing has the confidence of someone who’s thrown the rulebook into a lake and then stared at you daringly, arms crossed.

Visit Scotland, Regret Everything

The setting is stunning. Rolling hills. Misty woods. Quaint houses that absolutely contain unspeakable horrors. The atmosphere is thick enough to spread on toast. You can practically smell the paranoia. This is one of those shows where the scenery is doing half the acting, quietly whispering, You shouldn’t be here, every time the camera pans.

Six episodes in and your house feels suspicious?

👉 Philips Hue Color Starter Kit

Set the lighting to “ominous forest” and fully commit to the madness.

Bold, Confusing, Mildly Unwell

The direction commits fully to vibes over logic. Scenes linger too long. Then cut too fast. The tone shifts like a drunk changing lanes on the motorway. One minute you’re watching a grim psychological thriller.

The next, you’re wondering if you’re supposed to laugh. You often do. Not because it’s funny. Because it’s ridiculous. And glorious.

Music for Nervous Sweating

The soundtrack hums, drones, and groans like the show itself is anxious about what’s coming next. It’s all very moody, very serious, and occasionally feels like it’s bullying you into feeling tense.

Congratulations. It works. You will be uncomfortable. That’s the point.

Saints Need Not Apply

Coldwater has zero interest in moral lectures. Authority figures are useless, vague, or suspiciously absent. Decency is performative. Everyone’s hiding something. This is a town where righteousness goes to die quietly behind the recycling bins. CRIMENET salutes this commitment to moral rot. At least the madness here is democratic.

You’ll Keep Watching Out of Spite

You don’t binge Coldwater because you love it. You binge it because you need answers. Or revenge. Or closure. Or because you’ve already invested four hours and quitting now would mean admitting defeat. It’s compulsive viewing in the same way poking a loose tooth is compulsive.

Cult Classic or One-Season Fever Dream?

This feels destined to divide humanity into two groups: people who think it’s a misunderstood masterpiece, and people who think it’s the television equivalent of gaslighting. Both are probably correct. If it continues, it’ll survive on sheer audacity and argument fuel alone.

FAQ (Questions Asked By People Who Are Already Concerned)

Is Coldwater worth watching? Yes, if you enjoy psychological tension, social decay, and shouting “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT” at your screen.

Is it a crime thriller or a dark comedy? Officially? Thriller. Spiritually? A nervous breakdown in episodic form.

Are the villains good? Everyone is a potential villain. Even the lampshades feel suspicious.

Is this prestige TV? It desperately wants to be. Sometimes it gets there. Sometimes it falls down the stairs.

Will I recommend it to friends? Yes. But aggressively. And with warnings.