Bill Hader’s Dark Hollywood Turn: SNL Star Unleashes Family Horror in They Know

Olivia Bennett, 2/20/2026 Comedy king Bill Hader dives into horror with They Know—a chilling suburban saga laced with personal angst and Emmy-studded anticipation. Expect dry wit, daddy dread, and Hollywood’s most glamorous swerve into the shadows since Jordan Peele uncorked Get Out.

After years riding a seesaw between the absurd and the macabre, Hader’s leap from the dingy clubs of "SNL" and twisted corridors of "Barry" into full-fledged horror doesn’t so much surprise as it satisfies a sense of inevitability. It’s as if his best sketches always had a bloody finger curled around the punchline. This spring, Los Angeles will play host to the fever dream—production on "They Know" is gearing up, and the industry crowd is already circling like ravens at Oscar after-hours.

But what lies beneath all this anticipation? Here’s the heart of it: a quietly unsettling premise. A divorced father—Hader, of course—watches from the half-light as his ex-wife’s new partner starts to exert a “strange influence” over their children. It’s domestic angst with a supernatural glint, exploring that peculiarly modern paranoia that tiptoes through suburban neighborhoods: is the danger real, or just the echo of our fears in an empty house?

There’s an intimacy to the material, almost intrusive, considering Hader’s own public split in 2018 and his journey through fatherhood disassembled and reconstructed before the celebrity press. It would be naïve to imagine any separation between the man who made Barry Berkman’s unraveling so compelling and the father now envisioning a cinematic nightmare out of divorce’s aftermath. Suddenly, the “funny guy” feels less like a mask and more a study in duality.

Of course, Hader isn’t orchestrating this psychological symphony solo. Duffy Boudreau, a name familiar to "Barry" aficionados, is penning the script alongside the director-star. Behind the curtain, MRC and Bob Graf lend their particular brand of industrial horsepower—a partnership that’s quietly placed a bet on the next prestige horror wave rolling into 2025. It’s a crew trained to make the unheimlich feel, well, distressingly close to home.

There’s a pedigree here that can’t be ignored. Peel back a few layers and you’ll find a tradition of comedians—Jordan Peele, Zach Cregger, even a dash of vintage Mike Nichols—who snagged horror by the lapels and sent it spinning with a knowing smile. Maybe the shared trait is perspective: comics see the absurdity lurking in the ordinary, horror simply requires tilting the mirror a few notches toward the unimaginable.

Still, "They Know" doesn’t aim to wrench shrieks from closet monsters or hissing ghosts (or do they?). Judging from Hader’s past signatures—his comedic timing offset by the bleak—expect nuance swathed in menace, and maybe a scene in some painfully normal kitchen that feels more nightmarish than a graveyard romp. Hollywood lore is littered with failed pivots, but Hader’s sharp edge suggests this one might cut deeper.

No announcements yet on the rest of the cast—a curious omission, perhaps suggesting that the supporting bench will blend unexpected comic turns with those dramatic players who thrive in tension’s slow burn. Casting becomes both question and clue: who, around the dinner table, will blink first? One suspects all this subtext will become a playground for actors as much as audiences.

Lest anyone accuse this latest “divorced dad” entry of mere trend-chasing (a favorite pastime of industry pessimists, especially in the age of streaming glut), "They Know" promises ambiguity and anxiety in place of pat genre beats. If "Barry" proved anything, it’s that endings resist neatness, and the horrors we don’t quite see make the loudest noise.

It’s worth noting that, come 2025, reinvention is fast becoming the hottest accessory in Hollywood—a badge worn by those unwilling to be pinned down by old narratives. Hader, never one for a safe bet, positions himself at the very heart of that transformation, ready to uncork his own demons for an audience weary of easy monsters.

So as the lights dim and cameras begin their slow roll in Los Angeles, perhaps it’s best to savour the not knowing. There’s something reassuring about a project that’s confident enough to rattle its own bones, trusting viewers to appreciate a little uncertainty along with the anticipated chills. If nothing else, Hollywood serves up reinvention like nowhere else—and this time, it’s personal, and just a smidge terrifying.

There’s always been something sly about the way Hollywood’s funnymen peer into the void—trading pratfalls for pathos with a bravado one wishes could be bottled. And then, with little fanfare but plenty of sharpened wit, Bill Hader steps behind the lens and slips into the shadowy terrain of horror. "They Know." The title alone prickles the skin—deliberately cryptic, the sort of phrase that lands on your doormat when the world’s gone suddenly off-kilter.After years riding a seesaw between the absurd and the macabre, Hader’s leap from the dingy clubs of "SNL" and twisted corridors of "Barry" into full-fledged horror doesn’t so much surprise as it satisfies a sense of inevitability. It’s as if his best sketches always had a bloody finger curled around the punchline. This spring, Los Angeles will play host to the fever dream—production on "They Know" is gearing up, and the industry crowd is already circling like ravens at Oscar after-hours.But what lies beneath all this anticipation? Here’s the heart of it: a quietly unsettling premise. A divorced father—Hader, of course—watches from the half-light as his ex-wife’s new partner starts to exert a “strange influence” over their children. It’s domestic angst with a supernatural glint, exploring that peculiarly modern paranoia that tiptoes through suburban neighborhoods: is the danger real, or just the echo of our fears in an empty house?There’s an intimacy to the material, almost intrusive, considering Hader’s own public split in 2018 and his journey through fatherhood disassembled and reconstructed before the celebrity press. It would be naïve to imagine any separation between the man who made Barry Berkman’s unraveling so compelling and the father now envisioning a cinematic nightmare out of divorce’s aftermath. Suddenly, the “funny guy” feels less like a mask and more a study in duality.Of course, Hader isn’t orchestrating this psychological symphony solo. Duffy Boudreau, a name familiar to "Barry" aficionados, is penning the script alongside the director-star. Behind the curtain, MRC and Bob Graf lend their particular brand of industrial horsepower—a partnership that’s quietly placed a bet on the next prestige horror wave rolling into 2025. It’s a crew trained to make the unheimlich feel, well, distressingly close to home.There’s a pedigree here that can’t be ignored. Peel back a few layers and you’ll find a tradition of comedians—Jordan Peele, Zach Cregger, even a dash of vintage Mike Nichols—who snagged horror by the lapels and sent it spinning with a knowing smile. Maybe the shared trait is perspective: comics see the absurdity lurking in the ordinary, horror simply requires tilting the mirror a few notches toward the unimaginable.Still, "They Know" doesn’t aim to wrench shrieks from closet monsters or hissing ghosts (or do they?). Judging from Hader’s past signatures—his comedic timing offset by the bleak—expect nuance swathed in menace, and maybe a scene in some painfully normal kitchen that feels more nightmarish than a graveyard romp. Hollywood lore is littered with failed pivots, but Hader’s sharp edge suggests this one might cut deeper.No announcements yet on the rest of the cast—a curious omission, perhaps suggesting that the supporting bench will blend unexpected comic turns with those dramatic players who thrive in tension’s slow burn. Casting becomes both question and clue: who, around the dinner table, will blink first? One suspects all this subtext will become a playground for actors as much as audiences.Lest anyone accuse this latest “divorced dad” entry of mere trend-chasing (a favorite pastime of industry pessimists, especially in the age of streaming glut), "They Know" promises ambiguity and anxiety in place of pat genre beats. If "Barry" proved anything, it’s that endings resist neatness, and the horrors we don’t quite see make the loudest noise.It’s worth noting that, come 2025, reinvention is fast becoming the hottest accessory in Hollywood—a badge worn by those unwilling to be pinned down by old narratives. Hader, never one for a safe bet, positions himself at the very heart of that transformation, ready to uncork his own demons for an audience weary of easy monsters.So as the lights dim and cameras begin their slow roll in Los Angeles, perhaps it’s best to savour the not knowing. There’s something reassuring about a project that’s confident enough to rattle its own bones, trusting viewers to appreciate a little uncertainty along with the anticipated chills. If nothing else, Hollywood serves up reinvention like nowhere else—and this time, it’s personal, and just a smidge terrifying.