Yellowstone is back. It’s called something else now — Dutton Ranch — and aside from three returning characters, the rest of the cast is new. There’s a different setting (Texas instead of Montana), and a whole new set of complications.
But it’s still Yellowstone. Same tin-eared writing, same brilliant casting, a lot of cowboying, a little bit of country music, and — for better or worse — it remains compelling television if you’re the right demographic. God help me, I am. I’m no more proud of it than I was when I got hooked on the first season. It’s a show I love to complain about but never miss an episode of. Bless.
The opening is so bad that I pert near quit. After riding through their Montana ranch, Rip Wheeler (Cole Hauser) and Beth Dutton (Kelly Reilly) lie against a tree and admire the stars. “Did you ever imagine that we could have this?” Beth asks. “This quiet?”
“No, not in this lifetime,” Rip replies, before adding, “You know, when I was riding today, it reminded me of when I was young. And free.”
“Well, we’re free now, baby,” Beth says.
And then a fire engulfs their ranch, and they have to move to Texas.
I swear to God, that’s how it opens.
But then they get to Texas, buy a small ranch from some nice old woman, and promise to protect it from the vultures. Annette Bening shows up as the villain, Beulah Jackson; Jai Courtney plays her drunk-ass son, Rob-Will; Ed Harris rounds it out as the kindly veterinarian — and by God, Taylor Sheridan somehow puts Yellowstone back together again, complete with ranch hands and a bunk house.
Rip and Beth have to keep the small ranch alive. Rob-Will loses it and kills a ranch hand. Beulah tries to cover it up. Rip knows too much but doesn’t let on that he knows anything. The kind old vet sings to horses, reminisces about the war. Beth talks shit. Rip barely talks. Their surrogate son, Carter, meets a girl, Oreana (Natalie Alyn Lind), who is basically every Taylor Sheridan female archetype in existence: too pretty for the guy, wild, wise, with the wrong man, and totally damaged. Oreana also happens to be Beulah’s granddaughter. Oh, and J.R. Villarreal plays a Hispanic ranch hand so that Rip can beat up guys like Rob-Will who say racist things, because this is a Taylor Sheridan show, where strong silent men beat up racists and rapists. And there’s even a scene where Beth tries to talk to Carter about the importance of learning math in school. For ranching. I guffawed. Hell, I scoffed. But I quietly appreciated it, too.
It’s all very black-and-white and so Western it hurts, but hell if it doesn’t work — because I am a weak man too easily manipulated by kind old men, annoying manic-pixie-dream cowgirls, and flawed men with tempers who saddle horses and cry when a cow dies in a wildfire. Stupid show. Why can’t I quit you?