While I still enjoy Yellowstone, I have been noticing a steady decline in actual storytelling in that show. 90% of it is filler these days; entertaining filler, but filler all the same. This is a side effect of its own success, as Paramount+ has handed the reigns of its premier programming to screenwriting extraordinaire Taylor Sheridan, who’s stretched himself thin with series after series. One of his latest creations is the second Yellowstone prequel, 1923, starring Helen Mirren and Harrison Ford. Now that I’ve watched all eight episodes of it, I’m starting to think that perhaps Sheridan is bored with his flagship show and prefers concocting its prequels. At least, that’s what the writing indicated to me. In its best moments, 1923 reminded me of Sheridan at his peak, a level he hasn’t reached since becoming the top dog of Americana television.

If its name didn’t give it away, 1923 is set in the year 1923, so 40 years after James Dutton and his family settled in Montana and established the Yellowstone Ranch. James’ younger brother, Jacob (Ford) is the patriarch of the Dutton family in 1923, and his wife Cara (Mirren) the matriarch. With the aftershock of World War I and the foreshock of The Great Depression affecting cattle ranchers, Jacob and Cara are forced to contend with increasingly turbulent times and, of course, greedy villains who want their land. Before long, a range war kicks off in Montana, leaving the elderly Duttons with no choice but to fight and hope that their youngest nephew will return in time to save them all.

As with the contemporary series, 1923 crafts its suspense around the core idea that bad men are coming for the Dutton ranch. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it and all that. Except, we viewers know that the Duttons are still in possession of their land in 2023; that’s a screenwriting hurdle if I’ve ever seen one. Sheridan has always been resourceful, though, and he clearly came to the conclusion that if I can’t change the destination, I can change the journey. And what a journey season one of 1923 is, focusing on not one but three concurrent storylines. At first, I opined that that decision was a mistake, since it set up a scenario in which one could overshadow the others. By the end, however, I was proven wrong to conjecture that. All three stories are compelling, thanks to amazing acting, implausible twists, and uncompromising dialogue.

The main plotline, if you will, revolves around Jacob and Cara’s endeavors to protect their family, land, and cattle, in that order. This section of the narrative features the most ebbs and flows, meaning that its protagonists have to carry a heavy load, and that they do. Ford is his usual burly self, showing that even at 80, being a badass is still effortless for him. But it’s Mirren who really gets to show off her range here, playing a woman who believably commands the respect of rugged men. And she does that while remaining feminine, which I didn’t see coming. See, I normally critique Sheridan for writing female characters no differently from how he does his male ones, with Beth from Yellowstone being a prime example. That’s not the case with the women of 1923. Sure, they all demonstrate masculine traits at times, but that’s more so a product of their fictional environment than one of the writing. Mirren’s Cara Dutton is a woman, through and through, and perhaps Sheridan’s best ever at that.

On the topic of bests, this part of the story also includes some of the best villains the Yellowstone universe has even seen. The Scottish sheepherder Banner Creighton (Jerome Flynn) proves to be a capable adversary, and one for whom I almost felt sympathy. If you really think about it, you can’t really blame Creighton for fighting the Duttons. In his mind, he’s not evil; he’s simply doing what he has to in order to get ahead. That’s what makes him a weighty antagonist. Later on, mining tycoon Donald Whitfield (Timothy Dalton) enters the fray. Whitfield reminded me of Deadwood’s George Hearst, and if you’ve seen that series, you know that’s a positive. It also doesn’t hurt that Dalton chews the scenery when he’s on screen; he practically hisses his lines. When the spotlight is on him and Flynn, or Ford and Mirren, this show is almost unmissable.

Sadly, the spotlight isn’t always on them during this section. There’s an entire subplot dedicated to Jack Dutton (Darren Mann), James Dutton’s grandson, and Jack’s fiancé, Elizabeth Strafford (Michelle Randolph). Mann and Randolph are both likeable, young actors, and they certainly sell the impetuousness of their characters. That said, I always checked out when the camera shifted to them for one of their usually romantic scenes. They just felt hokey, and it doesn’t help that Mann, who’s Canadian, used a Southern accent throughout, when literally no one else chose to. There are also a handful of underwrought scenes focusing on Jack’s father, John Dutton (James Badge Dale), as well as a few on the Duttons’ ranch foreman, Zane Davis (Brian Geraghty). Both characters are underused, which is a shame given the skill of the actors playing them.

The second storyline, which receives almost as much screen time as the first, centers on Spencer Dutton (Brandon Sklenar) and his trials as a hunter in Africa. A veteran of World War I, Spencer’s sole focus is on hunting man-eating lions, cougars, and so on. That is, until he meets Alexandra (Julia Schlaepfer), a British socialite who pursues him even though she’s engaged to some wimpy member of the royal family. Spencer’s scenes are often the most entertaining of the entire season (well, maybe not to PETA). Through him, the audience gets to battle beasts of the Serengeti, journey to the unruly city of Mombasa, and eventually cast off into the perilous Indian Ocean. All the while, Sklenar puts on a masterclass in masculinity; the man practically oozes it. He’s a star in the making, but so is Schlaepfer. Her performance is so full of life, and her character so similarly spirited, that she makes for the perfect foil to the always steely Sklenar/Spencer.*

While Spencer and Alex’s plotline is undoubtedly a blast, it often feels too disconnected from the North American-set sequences. I found myself constantly thinking, “When’s he going to get home?” After all, Jack and Cara often reiterate how much they need their youngest nephew to come home and kill the bad guys. Every time they did so, the next Spencer scene felt like another delay of the inevitable, and that became frustrating. This is exasperated by the fact that Spencer and Alex are perhaps the unluckiest couple in the history of TV. You know the adage Murphy’s Law? Well, Taylor Sheridan certainly does. Look, I know this is fiction and one should suspend disbelief, yada yada yada. I’m more than willing to accept one or two incredibly implausible moments, or even three or four. But if I lose count… maybe stop going back to that well. It went from being dumb fun to just plain dumb.

Finally, there’s the third storyline that highlights the struggles of Native Americans at the time, something that Sheridan tries to do in most of his scripts. The main character of this section is Teonna (Aminah Nieves), a young woman who’s being forced to attend a Catholic-run American Indian Boarding School. Her reluctance to submit becomes a source of friction, especially with Sister Mary (Jennifer Ehle), a nun who’s unafraid to employ violence as a tool of education. Initially, I thought that this subplot felt tacked on, but as it developed, it became one of my favorite parts of 1923. This is mainly because of the integrity and watchability of Nieves, who joins castmates Sklenar and Schlaepfer as stars on the rise. Her performance is staggeringly good, and so is Ehle’s, but in a much more insidious way. Sister Mary is a full-bore bitch, for lack of a better word, but then again, so are all of the Catholic characters.**

Love it or hate it, Taylor Sheridan is unafraid of being heavy-handed or hurting people’s feelings. For instance, since it’s irrefutable that the Catholic Church tormented and murdered Native Americans, Sheridan chose to portray the nuns and priests as hypocritical, loathsome sinners. I imagine religious viewers will hate this, but I thought it was illuminating and fair. There are other things that he lays on thick, however, that I got a little tired of by the season finale. One of those things is the transparent use of his characters as ambassadors for his world views. It’s undeniably fun watching cowboys disparage city slickers or emerging technologies, especially when it’s Harrison Ford doing the bad-mouthing. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Would these people be saying these things in 1923?” Maybe they would, or maybe it’s just a world-weary screenwriter taking advantage of his platform. Either way, the dialogue in these scenes rarely feels organic.

Although I normally try to stay away from other reviews, I did read a few this time, and they generally agreed that 1923 is too dour for its own good. Okay, that’s somewhat true; grimness is another staple of Sheridan shows. But I don’t think being bleak is a problem on its own, necessarily. Rather, the actual problem is that this overriding darkness makes his shows fairly predictable at times. Again, I go back to my Murphy’s Law point. In 1923, this darkness especially afflicts women, which does become increasingly difficult to stomach. Violence against women is a trouble of the past and the present, and is thus a charged topic. I’m fine with a filmmaker wielding it as a tool to amplify drama, but frankly, Sheridan takes it to exploitational levels.  

1923 is far from flawless, and it’s similarly distant from Sheridan’s best work, but it is the best work he’s done in quite some time. Despite its bleakness, I still smiled in amusement as the season took me on a diverting adventure all around the African and North American plains. It’s also a delight to watch three icons of cinema – Ford, Mirren, and Dalton – ply their trade to great effect on the small screen. And I should also praise the show’s directors, Ben Richardson and Guy Ferland, as well as the cinematographers for framing a captivating rendition of the early 1920s. Unlike 1883, 1923 will run for two seasons, meaning it’s only halfway through. Given how sprawling the first half was, I can’t fathom how everything is going to come together. But I’m sure Sheridan will figure it out, even if it strains credulity.***

If I had to score it, I’d give season one of 1923 a 7/10.

Notes:

* One of the most affecting scenes in Spencer/Alex’s storyline involves a ship captain played by Joseph Mawle, whose subtle performance really stood out. The scene I’m referring to actually made me tear up a bit, demonstrating the skill of the actors and screenwriter, who reminded me here that he’s still got it.

** This part of the story features two additional standout performances from American Indian actors that I want to mention. Michael Spears fires on all cylinders as Runs His Horse, a proud man who resorts to violence in order to protect those dearest to him. And then there’s Hank Plenty Clouds, played by Michael Greyeyes. Hank’s warmth and wisdom made him a favorite of mine; the actor did a great job.

*** Speaking of straining credulity, the final two episodes were my least favorite because of it. They almost felt rushed, as if some moments were shot or reshot with little time for editing or revision. Even with this being the case, I remain eager for season two.

I’m genuinely curious: what did you think of 1923? Did you like it more or less than 1883? Did you like it more or less than Yellowstone? Let me know in the comments below.