So, “Them” is this 2021 horror-drama gem. It tells a tale of a Black family moving into a white neighborhood in LA during the ’50s. They deal with racism, trauma and some supernatural nonsense. Created by Little Marvin and produced by Lena Waithe, this show gets mad props for its intense acting, creepy vibes and some heavy commentary on America’s racial mess.

Meet the characters from Them

Livia ‘Lucky’ Emory

Okay, Lucky is that electric kid who both knows too much and pretends she knows nothing — like she’ll chew on a secret one minute and belt out a dare the next. She’s fiercely loyal to her family but also kind of gloriously selfish sometimes, which is oddly honest and slightly infuriating. There’s a restless energy about her, like she’s always three steps ahead and also five minutes late, if that makes sense. She collects little talismans (or maybe she just pockets things and calls them talismans) and has this habit of humming to herself when she’s trying to plan revenge or, you know, lunch.

Henry Emory

Henry is the dad who tries so hard to be firm and practical but is secretly terrified and a little lost — like a man whose map keeps folding itself. He’s steady when you need him, stubborn in a way that’s actually kind of sweet, and also prone to making decisions that look smart in theory and messy in practice. He loves his family with a blunt, clenched-jaw kind of intensity, sometimes to the point where he refuses to see the obvious (or he sees it and just pretends not to). He drinks too little water and too much pride, and he has this habit of whistling songs he can’t remember the words to.

Elizabeth ‘Betty’ Wendell

Betty is the picture of small-town politeness that hides a volcanic mix of ambition and fear — so polite she’ll smile while planning your downfall, maybe. She insists everything be proper but does sneaky, almost tender manipulations that are weirdly efficient; she’s the queen of “I meant no offense” and then stepping on your whole life. There’s a softness under the stiffness though, like she collects porcelain figurines and also collects grudges with equal care. She’s nostalgic for things that never happened, or maybe she just tells herself that, but either way she’s fascinating to watch implode politely.

Ruby Lee Emory

Ruby is the quietly fierce sister who’s got both a poker face and a soft spot for ridiculous rom-coms, which doesn’t compute but it works. She’s fiercely protective, observant to the point of being unnerving, and she keeps lists in her head of everyone’s quirks — she never forgets a birthday or a slight. Ruby can be tender in private and impenetrable in public; she’s the kind of person who will fix your shoe and then lecture you about your life choices. Oh, and she hums gospel hymns under her breath when she’s trying not to cry or trying to shame someone, I can’t tell which.

Gracie Emory

Gracie is the littlest bundle of chaos and sharpness — like someone bottled up mischief and made it far too earnest. She’s wildly imaginative, alternately angelic and a menace, and can be the sweetest kid one minute and terrifyingly blunt the next. There’s this odd combination of ancient wisdom and total toddler-level drama in her, she’ll give you a compliment and a prophecy in the same breath. She collects bugs but is inexplicably afraid of frogs, which is probably symbolic of something but also maybe it’s not.

George Bell

George is the neighborhood guy who’s equal parts helpful and vaguely ominous, like he’s always around for the picnic and also watching the skies. He has this reliability that’s comforting until you realize he’s quietly got his own agenda — not malicious, just complicated. He tells great stories and terrible jokes and he’s inexplicably knowledgeable about roofs and the occult, sometimes in the same sentence. He makes a mean pot roast and a worse alibi, if you believe that sort of thing.

The Black Hat Man

Okay, the Black Hat Man is pure nightmare fuel — stately, silent, and somehow dressed like he’s late for a funeral that never happened. He’s the kind of presence that sits in the corner of your vision and rearranges your dreams; you don’t just meet him, you feel like you’ve known him wrong for years. He’s cryptic, patient, and will absolutely exploit your smallest fear — and then offer you tea about it, in a tone so calm it’s worse. Also, small, inexplicable detail: he always smells faintly of rain despite never being near water, which is either a clue or a mood.

Clarke Wendell

Clarke is the sort of neighbor who smiles too quickly and apologizes for things he didn’t do, and you can’t tell if that’s weakness or a power move. He plays by the rules — or at least he pretends to — and has this bureaucratic energy like he’d volunteer to file your soul away if given the forms. He’s charming in a newspaper-ad kind of way, and he collects civic awards like other people collect stamps, which is either adorable or terrifying. He stammers when he’s lying, but not always, which makes him doubly dangerous.

Da Tap Dance Man

He’s the weird, charismatic performer who stomps into a room and steals the floor and possibly your heart, or your watch, I’m not sure. He’s playful, unpredictable, and has this old-timey showman vibe — part vaudeville, part someone who knows too many secrets about your grandparents. He taps like he’s sending Morse code to the universe, and half the town will swear he cursed them and the other half will say he cured their loneliness. He wears too-shiny shoes and, uh, maybe a grin that’s a little too wide, in a way that’s thrilling and mildly suspicious.

Marty Dixon

Marty is that earnest guy with good intentions and baffling blind spots — you want to trust him, and then he does something obtuse and you sigh and love him anyway. He’s loyal, earnest, kind of clumsy emotionally, and he tries to fix things with big gestures and small forgetfulness. He’s got a soft laugh and a habit of saying things like “It’ll be fine” in tones that imply it absolutely might not be. Also he keeps an old coin in his pocket for luck, which he insists is cursed when it inconveniently slips out at very dramatic times.