As he sits on the throne as the King of the Streaming Era, writer/director Taylor Sheridan has sometimes been accused of being pretentious and even misogynistic. Whatever criticisms can be levied at his output, he is arguably the creator who has most earned the right to his pretensions today. He is more of an industry than a showrunner, someone who has created thousands of jobs and millions of fans with shows like “Tulsa King,” “Mayor of Kingstown,” “Lioness,” and “Landman,” just to name a few.
But the first line of his obituary will reference the true phenomenon that is “Yellowstone,” a show that just ended as one of the biggest hits of its generation but that is going nowhere in terms of franchise expansion. There was the prequel “1883” in 2021 and the follow-up “1923” in 2022; a direct sequel called “The Madison” has been completed to air later this year; three more spin-offs are in various stages of pre-production. It’s an industry of old-fashioned storytelling about heroic, morally righteous men and the women who stand by their side. Sheridan has been accused of making “Red State Television,” but it doesn’t matter how you frame it: People love these shows. And those people should be satisfied by the new season of “1923,” even if they’re starting to wonder if the writers will ever connect their competing subplots.
The new season picks up shortly after the end of the last one and again keeps its protagonists on parallel tracks for the three episodes sent to press, leading one to consider the likelihood that they won’t actually intersect until the series finale. The main draw remains Jacob (Harrison Ford) and Cara Dutton (Helen Mirren), struggling to keep their Montana homestead safe from both natural enemies—a lion on the porch in the opening scenes of the season could come from a book called Foreshadowing 101—and those who so desperately want their land. The latter is led by the truly villainous Donald Whitfield (a scenery-chewing Timothy Dalton), who is reintroduced this season in a truly nauseating scene that first sees him fondling a naked woman a third of his age and then ordering her to go get the sex slave they have bound in the closet. Sheridan loves to show off how far he can push his audience when it comes to sex and violence, especially against women, using them as devices to raise the villain or hero profile of his male characters.
The strongest female character on “1923” might be Alexandra (Julia Schlaepfer), who was finally torn from her husband Spencer Dutton (series MVP Brandon Sklenar) at the end of last season. The first three episodes of the new season keep the Jack and Rose of this show divided with Spencer stuck aboard an Italian ship and Alexandra struggling to find her way to the States, where she hopes they can be reunited. Schlaepfer and Sklenar were the best thing about the first season as their actual chemistry enlivened the old-fashioned storytelling as their undying love fought through everything from elephant attacks to a shipwreck to an actual duel. Sklenar is a truly charismatic screen presence, someone who looks like he could have stepped out of adventure films of the era in which the show is set, and Schlaepfer has dramatic chops, especially in the third episode this season, which also features some of the most remarkable period detail of the streaming era.
If the Spencer/Alexandra arc remains the most interesting and the Cara/Jacob arc is entertaining through the sheer acting ability of the performers who embody it, the weakest plotting on “1923” remains with Teonna Rainwater (Aminah Nieves), the character abused so fully in the first season that she’s now a fugitive on the run. Jamie McShane takes more of the spotlight this season as U.S. Marshal Kent, roaming the hills with Father Renaud (Sebastian Roché) in search of Teonna, someone the writers still struggle to turn into a character more than a plot device.
Yet the consistently shallow and clichéd writing often fades away under the production value of “1923” and the sheer scope of what Sheridan and his team are attempting. It’s old-fashioned dramatic entertainment, where we swallow lines like “I will not allow today to be the last time I see your face” because of the deep sincerity with which they’re uttered. Yes, this kind of nostalgic storytelling comes with its pitfalls when it comes to gender (almost all the women on this show are pregnant or injured at one point or another). Still, it clearly strikes a chord with many people looking for something simple in an increasingly complex world.
Watching “1923” as one run from the first season through these three episodes gave me a greater appreciation for what Sheridan does than the modern shows that I consider missteps (I don’t like “Tulsa” or “Kingstown”). Something about his vision of heroic men and troubled women fits the Western genre, whether it’s a modern one like “Yellowstone” or a traditional one like “1923.” Sheridan may bristle at the idea that he’s a creator for MAGA households, but his programs do recall a bygone era of network TV Westerns that used a modern lens to transport viewers back to a “simpler time.” He may not want to make America great again, but he’s doing his part to make TV great again, and millions think it’s working.
Three episodes screened for review.
