tulsa king (season 1)

“Don’t leave town, Mr. Manfredi.”
“Who the fuck would want to leave this paradise?”

There’s one very good reason to watch Tulsa King, the new series streaming on Paramount+, and that’s its iconic star, Sylvester Stallone. At 76, the venerable screen legend and longtime action hero wears his age impressively well, having lost almost none of his swagger, charm, or granite-like physical presence - if anything, his acting has more of a natural, charismatic ease than ever before. Sly may be known as the Italian Stallion, but he has a lot more in common with fine Italian wine these days. 

Which is a good thing, because the actual show that’s been erected around him is a relatively unambitious and old-fashioned fish-out-of-water comedy - the sort of series you might have found on a network like A&E over a decade ago (or possibly USA during its “blue sky” era). Sly plays mob capo Dwight “The General” Manfredi, who finishes up a 25-year stint in prison… only to learn, in spite of his loyalty, the New York-based Invernizzi family prefers him out of the way and that he’s effectively being exiled to Oklahoma, of all places (if this sounds an awful lot like the plot to Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, right down to Dwight assembling a makeshift crew and starting to build his own criminal empire, well… you’re not wrong).

Dwight’s allies include Uber driver Tyson (Jay Will); weed dispensary proprietor Bodhi (Martin Starr); ex-Invernizzi soldier turned ranch hand Armand (Max Casella); and bar & grill owner Mitch (Garrett Hedlund - once playing the lead in studio blockbusters like Tron: Legacy, now 6th or 7th on the call sheet for a relatively middle-of-the-road streaming series. Such is life). The early episodes lean heavily on middling culture shock gags - Dwight trying to get the hang of the apps on his smartphone, and learning the hard way that no one deals in cash anymore - that don’t always gel with the corrosive streak coursing through the show’s bulging veins. Creator Taylor Sheridan (Yellowstone) has built his lucrative brand largely on red state appeal, reflected in his portraits of old-school masculinity. Dwight puts his stamp on Tulsa like the bull in the proverbial china shop, and most problems are solved by bruising a few knuckles, snapping a few fingers, or twisting a few limbs at unnatural angles. It might border on the distasteful (or, at the very least, come across as ploddingly crass) if it were literally any other actor… but Stallone’s appeal is like armored plating; you can’t even dent it.   ​

Soon after arrival, Dwight strikes sparks with a woman named Stacy (Andrea Savage) and not long after they tumble into the sack, we learn she works as an ATF agent - one of several plot contrivances that give off the acrid whiff of mothballs. To be fair, some of the character work is effective (Jay Will is particularly good as a wannabe hustler whose confliction between his real-life father and his new boss/father figure is nonetheless profound). But Dwight’s feud with a local biker gang supplies mostly perfunctory conflict (in spite of Ritchie Coster’s snarling performance as their ringleader)… while his disintegrating relations with the Invernizzi family - specifically the Don’s underboss son Chickie (The Wire’s Domenick Lombardozzi) - are generally kept simmering for next season. Tulsa King offers a measure of untaxing, red-blooded entertainment in appreciably tight packaging (the majority of episodes run a refreshing 36-38 minutes), even if it’s as rough-hewn as its protagonist. Otherwise, the show’s attraction basically begins and ends with its star. After all, Tulsa isn’t the most enticing of destinations, but Stallone manages to keep each visit lively enough.