Yellowstone (Seasons 1 and 2)

Creators: Taylor Sheridan and John Linson

Starring: Kevin Costner, Luke Grimes, Kelly Reilly, Wes Bentley Cole Hauser, Kelsey Asbille, Brecken Merrill, Jefferson White, Danny Huston, Gil Birmingham, Ian Bohen, Denim Richards, Forrie J. Smith, Wendy Moniz, Ryan Bingham, Michael Nouri, Gretchen Mol, Josh Lucas, Neal McDonough, Terry Serpico

Original Airdate: 2018-2019

 
★★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

It's become almost a cliché to call a any overlooked series "the best show you're not watching," but in the case of the Paramount Network's Yellowstone it's an especially odd designation given that it's steadily become cable's most watched drama. It isn't overlooked as much as just critically underappreciated, since you hardly hear anyone talking about it nearly as much as they should. Or maybe, the show's quality just speaks for itself in a streaming era where everything has strong buzz for a week or two before fading from the public consciousness. Having premiered in 2018 and just wrapped its third season, Taylor Sheridan and John Linson's modern-day western focusing on a family-owned cattle ranch in Montana has quietly solidified its staying power by delivering some of TV's best storytelling.

A throwback in every sense, the series gives the legendary, long underrated Kevin Costner the role of his career, if not necessarily an unexpected one, given the actor's rich, on screen experience in this genre. While joining a long line of recent television anti-heroes, it still seems like the part he's been preparing for decades to play if only he was a given the chance. Now, with a character he can really sink his teeth into, that opportunity's finally here.

 

The Dances with Wolves, Waterworld and The Postman star casts a John Wayne-like presence over the proceedings as the show's grounding force, accompanied by a supporting cast that's just as strong, unspooling this family's story at a rapid but controlled pace that has you on pins and needles awaiting how the next threat or betrayal that takes everything in an entirely new direction. That old adage that you don't choose your relatives has never been more apt, with each having wildly competing, often selfish motivations that are not only tearing this unit apart from the inside, but frequently placing them in the line of fire, both literally and figuratively.

Set against a Montana landscape majestically shot by Beasts of the Southern Wild cinematographer Ben Richardson, the push and pull between those who want to protect the integrity and heritage of the land and developers looking to cash in with massive commercialization projects is a constant theme. But on either side, motivations are rarely what they appear, even as the show navigates the plight of Native Americans who still must deal with the ugliness of discrimination. In the narrative tapestry Sheridan weaves, life is a vicious cycle wherein the more things change, the more they'll stay the same. Until they don't.

Family patriarch and Bazemore's influencial, respected Livestock Commissioner, John Dutton (Costner) controls and operates Dutton Yellowstone Ranch, the largest of its type in the country, ruling over his family and employees with an iron fist. His oldest son Lee (David Annable) is a Montana Livestock agent while also working as the ranch's head of security. Youngest son Kayce (Luke Grimes) is a former Navy SEAL estranged from his father after leaving to live on a Native American reservation with wife, Monica (Kelsey Asbille) and their young son Tate (Brecken Merrill).

John's daughter Beth (Kelly Reilly) is a feisty, foul-mouthed alcoholic financier emotionally scarred from guilt over their mother's accidental death over twenty years earlier, as well as other traumatizing childhood events. She's extremely loyal to her father while and has been in and out of a relationship with the ranch's foreman and John's right-hand man, the intense Rip Wheeler (Cole Hauser).

Jamie (Wes Bentley) is the family's attorney and aspiring politician, but also the black sheep, torn between his unhealthy obsession with winning his father's respect and his increasing discomfort with the way the Duttons illegally conduct business. He's also the subject of sister Beth's hatred and scorn, as the two siblings are embroiled in a blood feud that frequently erupts in verbal and physical confrontations, during which she frequently gets the better of him.

The threats to the ranch come from all sides, as Chief Thomas Rainwater (an appropriately stoic Gil Birmingham) is determined to take back what he believes is stolen land for the Native Americans who originally inhabited it, planning to expand the reservation to include a casino. Meanwhile, billionaire land developer Dan Jenkins (Danny Huston), wants to drive the Duttons out, and isn't above resorting to threats and illegal activities to achieve his goal. From the series' opening scene we see the levels he's willing to sink to destroy John, proving he hasn't done his homework on the man who wields enough power in Montana to have both the state's entire police department and its governor, Lynelle Perry (Wendy Moniz) in his pocket. That is if he can trust them, or even his own family.

The Duttons are immediately rocked by tragedy, as the war over land and cattle leads to the death of oldest son, Lee, with Kayce caught right in the middle. Torn between his loyalty to Native American wife Monica and their son, he realizes the battle lines have been drawn and he may have to leave the reservation to return "home" to his estranged father, whether he wants to or not. Or at least before people start making assumptions about his allegiances. 

 

This inner struggle drives Kayce's arc throughout these twenty episodes, resenting his dad for disowning him when he had a child with Monica, while also realizing his ties to the family ranch give his young son Tate the best shot at a secure future. But it isn't necessarily a safe one, which causes a massive rift in his relationship with Monica, who already feels like an outsider due to her heritage. 

Like Kayce, Monica's prideful and stubborn, justifiably unwilling to take handouts or help from anyone, especially father-in-law John, whose initial objection to their union was well-documented. The feeling that as viewers we've been tossed into a story that's already logged in years (if not decades) is perhaps the series' greatest attribute, allowing us to gradually form judgments about these characters based as much on their current actions as their tangled histories. The relationship between Kayce and Monica burns slowly in that regard, with Grimes and Asbille bringing an understated power to their roles, as their story shifts and surprises with each new, seemingly insurmountable challenge.

 

At least on the surface, Costner projects John Dutton as a laid-back, easygoing guy who puts family first, which of course sharply contrasts with the meglomaniacal tyrant everyone views him as. Or does it? With this complicated individual, many things can all be true at once, with the actor proving himself brilliantly adaptable at summoning up all these various facets of his personality, the layers of which are continuously being peeled away. Full of complexities and contradictions, he'd just as easily blackmail or murder anyone that crosses him or his family as he would spend the day fishing with his grandson. 

 

Having his world turn upside down following the the death of wife, Evelyn, John's had rough, unexpected on-the-job training as a single dad, the results of which his adult children are still experiencing the fallout from. A reconciliation with Kayce and a chance to bond with young Tate feels like his way of making amends and reclaiming, and therefore extending, his family legacy.

 

As resistant as the angry but quietly noble Kayce is to returning to the fold, he's still easily the stablest of the siblings, if not necessarily the most loved. That designation easily goes to "daddy's little girl" Beth, who's had to live for years feeling responsible for her mom's death and the family setbacks that followed, uses older brother Jamie as her punching bag, letting all her rage out on him for reasons that won't be fully revealed until later. 

 

Kelly Reilly plays Beth as a fearless, take no prisoners pariah, who's more than happy to let Jamie know how worthless he is, or threaten anyone who even thinks they're taking this land. In playing the series' most exciting wildcard, Reilly rarely engages in the types of choices that would brand the character as a strictly one-dimensional psychopath. Like Bentley, she has moments where it's not clear whether we're looking at a grown adult or scared little girl still reeling from the fallout of her mother's death. And because of the circumstances surrounding that, she's had as tough a time coping as anyone, including her father. And besides constantly drinking herself into a stupor, she's taking it out on anyone and everyone who dare come near her daddy's ranch.  

 

Wes Bentley's performance as Jamie really is something else, as the actor primarily known for his acclaimed supporting work as the disaffected teen neighbor in American Beauty over twenty years ago completely reinvents himself here as weak, petulant man-child Jamie Dutton. Since receding from the spotlight, he's taken many parts since, but this feels like a full-fledged comeback for an actor whose low-key intensity is exploited to maximum effect. The harder this outcast tries live up to his dad's expectations, the more spectacularly he seems to fail, as evident during his clumsy pursuit of the state's Attorney General position, further establishing him as the family's expendable pawn. 

 

If only Jamie's heart or conscience was able to go along with it, as he's constantly attempting to take the moral high ground in the face of their illegal activities, all while denying himself the strength to avoid getting sucked back in. Bentley's so skilled at conveying fear and insecurity you can almost literally feel the character's nerves every time he's sharing air space with his dad or sister, both of whom reap a certain satisfaction from bullying a willing doormat. Even they start to realize he's so self concious that his intended help often puts everyone in danger's path. The sight of this grown man running and hiding from his father and kicked in the crotch by his adult sister should be a bad joke, if only it was, and Bentley didn't bring a sort of tragic pathos to the role that almost makes you sympathize with him. His future was carved out a while ago, molding him into the dysfunctionally stunted dope he's become. 

 

Unable to take a stand or make any kind of firm decision, Jamie's even taken advantage of by his girlfriend and campaign manager Christina (Katherine Cunningham), who's more intrigued by what he could potentially do for her than the man himself. But "potential" is Jamie's most dreaded word, as we discover in the second season the pathetic lengths he's willing to go to please his disapproving dad, mainly due to fear of how badly he'd falter on his own.

 

If Kayce and Rip comprise the muscles of the ranch operation then Beth is often that, plus the brains, consistently proving herself as not only the most dangerous and reckless of the Dutton clan, but the most cunning. Her relationship with Cole Hauser's Rip is among the show's more fascinating aspects, as are the wisely parsed out flashbacks depicting his arrival on the ranch as a troubled teen taken in by John and falling for the rebellious Beth. At first, it's tough to get a read on him, but with each passing episode his tough, humorless exterior gives way to the humanity underneath, with Cole Hauser expertly navigating all of it.

 

Sheridan's impactfully placed use of flashbacks accomplish exactly what's needed to enhance the present-day story. In his hands, it's not a device, but rather an essential, completely organic extension of the show's character building that never overstays its welcome. It also features some good, believable performances from Josh Lucas and Gretchen Mol as young John and Evelyn Dutton and Kylie Rogers and Kyle Red Silverstein as the teen Beth and Rip. Toward the end of season two, there's a flashback with Costner as John opposite the great Dabney Coleman as his dying father, John Sr., that's probably the most beautifully shot and performed piece of storytelling the show's done, emotionally but subtly cutting to the core of the legacies and bonds forged between fathers and sons through the generations.   

Violence is a big part of this world, often graphically depicted, but to the series' benefit because so much of it feels true to the environment these characters have inhabited their entire lives. Slick California billionaire Dan Jenkins thinks the Dutton Ranch is his for the taking, gravely underestimating the lengths this family will go to keep it, especially Beth, who plays him like a fiddle. Dan's business partnership with Chief Rainwater (whose motives at least don't seem as outwardly slimy) are similarly driven by profit and expansion, even as he realizes the trust of his people are at stake with a move that's drawing as much skepticism as praise from his contingency, still unjustly viewed as expendable. 

 

But the the most dangerous threat to all comes from Malcolm Beck (Neil McDonough), a ruthless businessman who, along with his brother Teal (Terry Serpico) intimidates and threatens to get in on the action, in the process crossing a line you don't dare go near with the Duttons. The result is an altercation with Beth and his men that should have netted Kelly Reilly an Emmy, as she delivers a painfully realistic, gut-wrenching performance as Beth fights for her life, emerging on the other side permanently scarred and changed from the experience.     

Far from exclusively peddling in gloom and doom, much humor comes from the supporting players, or more accurately, John Dutton's ragtag crew of rotating ranch hands taking up residence at Yellowstone. Jimmy Hurdstrom (Jefferson White) is among the most memorable, given an arc that isn't entirely dissimilar to Breaking Bad's Jesse Pinkman in that he starts as a low level, Eminem-looking thug whose criminal screw-ups land him on the ranch. 

The butt of nearly all the show's jokes, Jimmy's evolution toward becoming both competent at his job (and even at one point a successful rodeo star) mark one of the show's more fascinating character trajectories, growing into someone viewers can truly like and root for. Even as we worry what ridiculous predicament he'll find himself in next. But Sheridan balances that aspect nicely with the deadly serious code that comes with a job that most literally has you branded for life. Once you're in, there's no way out, unless you plan on taking a trip to the proverbial "train station," courtesy of Rip and senior rancher Lloyd (Forrie J. Smith). 

Someone who soon uncovers the trappings of working at Dutton Yellowstone and wants to fight that system is Walker (singer-songwriter Ryan Bingham) a guitar-toting ex-con frequently clashing with Rip, who recruited him upon his release from prision. It's a decision he quickly regrets, as their explosive, slowly simmering feud makes for one the show's more compelling sub-plots, revealing so much about what both men stand for. 

 

In addition to Bingham's contributions to the show's soundtrack (further complimented by Brian Tyler's memorable score and music from Costner's own band, Modern West), he's a calm, steady screen presence who exudes laid-back cool, delivering one of the series' most slyly effective supporting turns and emerging as the perfect opponent for a tightly wound, trigger-tempered Rip. 

Timely as ever, the series may as well be a microcosm of America and the problems currently facing what's become an increasingly divided and fractured country, with the Duttons representing us at both our best and worst. Unfalteringly loyal but reprehensibly corrupt, the family lives in a world where favors and people can always be bought, while still frequently finding themselves on the receiving end of those operating at a moral level far lower than theirs. At his worst, John Dutton is beholden to his own strict honor code, even if it's one that sometimes makes sense only to him, and makes few concessions for anyone in its way. 

 

Like a much harder-hitting Dallas mixed with the finest of Costner's own westerns like Wyatt Earp and Open Range, the series isn't only a narrative accomplishment, but a marvel to look at, starting with an iconic opening credit sequence and theme that already feels like a modern classic, calling back to a TV era when shows were took the task of crafting their lengthy intros as seriously as the material itself. Yellowstone is about survival, and the extraordinarily destructive and sometimes surprisingly caring lengths all these characters will go to do that. Sins and mistakes pass down from one generation to the next, but at the end of day all that's left of any family is its legacy. And the Duttons will stop at nothing to fiercely protect theirs.