In the crowded landscape of adult animated comedies, Netflix’s Haunted Hotel arrives with modest ambitions and delivers exactly what it promises—nothing more, nothing less.
While showrunner Matt Roller brings Rick and Morty credentials to this supernatural sitcom, the result is a series that’s perfectly watchable without being particularly memorable. It’s the kind of show that works well as comfortable background viewing, though it rarely demands your full attention.
A Familiar Haunted House with New Residents
Haunted Hotel centers on the Undervale, a struggling establishment that faces the typical hospitality industry challenges—poor location, questionable decor, unprofessional staff—plus one rather significant additional problem: it’s absolutely crawling with ghosts, ghouls, demons, and supernatural phenomena. The premise immediately recalls the beloved British sitcom Ghosts, with resident spirits offering an unpredictable mix of help and hindrance while desperately bargaining for small pleasures like keeping the television on to combat eternal boredom.
At the heart of this spectral chaos is a refreshingly unconventional family dynamic. Katherine (Eliza Coupe) serves as the show’s grounded center—a smart, put-upon single mother trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Her co-parent is her brother Nathan (Will Forte), an ineffectual dreamer who happens to be dead, though he thinks and speaks like any living person. Together, they’re raising Katherine’s two children: 13-year-old Ben (Skyler Gisondo), who occupies the awkward middle ground of teenage social hierarchy, and little sister Esther (Natalie Palamides), whose dark energy and megalomaniacal tendencies feel familiar yet endearing.
Rounding out the core cast is Abaddon (Jimmi Simpson), a demon trapped in an 18th-century child’s body who serves as the show’s agent of chaos. While his character concept sounds original, Abaddon essentially functions as this show’s version of Stewie Griffin—delivering lines like “The night is my canvas and terror my paint! I’d like PB&J for lunch” with theatrical menace that’s immediately undercut by childish needs.
Expanding Beyond the Supernatural Sitcom Formula
After establishing its ghostly premise, Haunted Hotel wisely broadens its scope to become a vehicle for various genre spoofs and homages. One episode channels teen slasher films like Halloween through a supernatural lens, while another tackles Invasion of the Body Snatchers territory when Esther tries to boost her popularity by lending out the hotel’s weird creatures as pets. These genre exercises give the show opportunities to play in different comedic sandboxes, even if the execution doesn’t always capitalize on the potential.
The series finds its strongest footing in standard sitcom storylines filtered through its supernatural setting. Katherine’s attempts to finally go on a date, only to have romance thwarted by chaos erupting back home, represents classic sitcom territory that the show handles competently. These more grounded episodes allow the characters’ relationships to breathe while still delivering the supernatural sight gags that define the show’s identity.
The Comedy Hits and Misses
Haunted Hotel succeeds best in its smaller, character-driven moments. When Ben faces what he believes is certain death from a monster attack, his panicked plea—”Don’t let Mom open my laptop! Just throw it away!”—captures genuine teenage anxiety with perfect comedic timing. Similarly, Abaddon’s casual reminiscence about his former role as “gatekeeper to the fifth circle of hell” where he “determined who would enter for torture, and who would fall into the abyss for different torture” demonstrates the show’s ability to find humor in the mundane aspects of the supernatural.
However, the series struggles with consistency, often settling for jokes that feel like first drafts rather than polished comedy gold. Nathan’s response to “You can’t rush love” with “Or deep-dish pizza—it usually takes 40 minutes!” exemplifies the show’s tendency toward will-this-do humor that generates mild amusement rather than genuine laughter.
The visual comedy, despite having infinite opportunities courtesy of the hotel’s phantasmagorical residents, rarely capitalizes on its potential. A sequence where a mouse, cat, dog, and dog warden suddenly sprint across the corridor prompts Katherine to wonder how they all died together, with Esther’s matter-of-fact explanation—”Cliff. It was foggy!”—landing with a comedic thud rather than the intended absurdist punch.
A Show That Knows Its Limitations
Haunted Hotel occupies an interesting position in the adult animation landscape. It doesn’t attempt the fizzing imaginative leaps of Rick and Morty, nor does it aspire to the finely honed classical comedy of The Simpsons, the lewd snark of Family Guy, or the profound darkness of BoJack Horseman. Instead, it settles comfortably into being “quite funny”—a show with recognizable joke structures that will stimulate mild laughter without inspiring strong feelings in either direction.
This measured approach has its merits. The show maintains a consistent tone that makes it ideal comfort viewing, and the supernatural setting provides enough visual interest to keep eyes engaged even when the writing doesn’t demand full attention. The voice cast, particularly Eliza Coupe and Will Forte, brings warmth and familiarity to their roles, creating characters you genuinely want to spend time with despite the show’s comedic limitations.
The Verdict: Relentlessly, Endlessly OK
Nathan’s greeting to potential guests perfectly encapsulates the show’s self-aware mediocrity: “Welcome to The Undervale! We know about the smell, and we’re trying.” Haunted Hotel knows its limitations and works within them, creating a series that’s pleasant without being passionate, competent without being compelling.
For viewers seeking groundbreaking adult animation, this won’t satisfy those cravings. But for those wanting a supernatural sitcom that delivers consistent, unique, entertainment, Haunted Hotel serves its purpose. It’s the kind of show that fills the space between more demanding viewing, offering just enough charm and supernatural silliness to justify its existence in Netflix’s ever-expanding catalog.
The series represents the current state of streaming comedy—content designed more for passive consumption than active engagement, filling the gaps in our viewing schedules without making strong impressions. While that may sound like damning with faint praise, there’s genuine value in entertainment that knows exactly what it is and delivers that experience reliably, even if it never reaches for greatness.
Haunted Hotel isn’t trying to revolutionize adult animation, and perhaps that’s okay. Sometimes a show that’s perfectly, consistently fine is exactly what viewers need.
Rating: 7.5/10 – A charming supernatural comedy that succeeds at being pleasantly watchable without ever becoming truly memorable.
