Frankly, I never thought we’d see another season of Warrior. When HBO mothballed Cinemax’s original programming, I assumed that would doom this show for sure. Of course, there was also COVID, a virus that made shooting a production with this many sets and extras nearly impossible. But then, a minor miracle occurred, as droves of viewers stricken with pandemic-induced boredom flocked to HBO Max and gave this little-known action series a shot. As a result, HBO gave Warrior a third season renewal, and two years later, it’s finally aired. As I began my binge, I expected a little rust from showrunner Jonathan Tropper and Co., but nearly instantly I was reminded that this cast and crew are too polished for that. It was as if the three-year hiatus was barely a speed bump, and within a few short moments, hatchets flew and intrigue grew. Alas, with each successive episode, it became apparent that an unfortunate duality was forming in its storytelling. This flaw, along with a handful of other issues, prevents Warrior’s third season from reaching the heights of its previous installments. It’s still a bloody fun time, though.

With each passing day, Mai Ling (Dianne Doan) and the Long Zii Tong consolidate power and territory, putting their rivals, the Hop Wei, in a tenuous position. Low on cash and increasingly desperate, the Hop Wei, led by Young Jun (Jason Tobin) and our protagonist Ah Sahm (Andrew Koji), get into the counterfeiting business in order to stay alive. This draws the attention of the Secret Service, who enlist former SFPD Officer Lee (Tom Weston-Jones) as a deputy and local guide. Meanwhile, a tenacious railroad tycoon named Douglas Strickland (Adam Rayner) sets his sights on the land that Nellie (Miranda Raison) and Ah Toy (Olivia Cheng) use to shelter maltreated Chinese women. Strickland needs allies, though, and while Deputy Mayor Buckley (Langley Kirkwood) seems like the obvious choice, he’s preoccupied with winning the mayoral election. In comes Dylan Leary (Dean Jagger), who’s happy to help the greedy industrialist, as long as it means jobs for the destitute Irishmen he represents. In the middle of all this are Wang Chao (Hoon Lee) and Sergeant Bill O’Hara (Kieran Bew), who as always, seek to keep the peace in their own unique way. Of course, they’re not likely to succeed.

First and foremost, Warrior is a TV-MA action series, showcasing bone-crunching martial arts and blood-spraying blade battles, with an occasional shootout sprinkled in. For many viewers, this aspect of the show is the primary reason they tune in, and for those people, I’m happy to report that Warrior remains the best action program on television. Everything anyone could possibly want is there in season three. Ah Sahm continues to dominate wave after wave of inferior henchmen, often with Young Jun and Hong (Chen Tang) kicking ass behind him. Just as dominant is Li Yong (Joe Taslim), who persists in being the disciplined yet relentless enforcer who keeps the Long Zii on top. Only this season, Li Yong is often accompanied by Kong Pak, a longtime friend played by none other than Mark Dacascos, as if Warrior wasn’t awesome enough. These two feature in a pair of fight scenes – one brutal, one breathless – that rank as my personal favorites this season.

Other characters get in on the violence, as well. Leary gets to smash a few faces (literally) from time to time, and even Bill gets a proper one-on-one fistfight. If you’re someone who prefers the blade over the fist, then there’s plenty for you too. Kong Pak is quite adept with his kukri-like blade, though he’s probably not as skilled as Ah Toy, who’s still one badass swordsman, or is it swordswoman? Either way, watching these two dice their way through the flesh and bone of their enemies is blood-lettingly satisfying. And for those firearm-inclined individuals, let’s just say the lever-action gets put to good use this season. If I had to nitpick, I’d opine that the action here does pale somewhat in comparison to season two’s, and maybe also to season one’s. Even so, Warrior continues to display the best pure, practical action on TV/streaming.

Of course, if the story these characters inhabit isn’t compelling, then these incredible action scenes mean a whole lot less. Similar to Warrior’s first two seasons, the story here isn’t exactly high art, but it’s interesting regardless, mostly. On one side, you have the Hop Wei-Long Zii gang war, which develops in ways over these ten episodes that I didn’t see coming. At this story’s core is the counterfeiting business that the Hop Wei lean on, using a printing shop assistant named Yan Mi (Chelsea Muirhead) as their head printer.* She’s a fiercely independent young woman, and her relationship with Ah Sahm becomes intriguingly complicated as the season rolls on. It’s always thought-provoking when a decent, innocent person gets wrapped up in a criminal conspiracy. At what point does that person become complicit? With Yan Mi, Warrior gets its chance to explore that conundrum, one that’s clearly on Ah Sahm’s mind as their operation expands.**

Across Chinatown, Ah Sahm’s sister and leader of the Long Zii, Mai Ling, endeavors to absorb as many Tongs as she can, including Kong Pak’s. This section of Mai’s story is excellent, as it’s quite apparent that these men only follow Mai because of their respect for Li Yong. For a woman devoted to her own sense of agency, this constitutes a serious problem. Also, there’s always this question hanging over things: is it sexism that makes these men resent Mai, or is it her often questionable decision-making? After all, her pursuit of influence beyond Chinatown threatens to destroy not only the Long Zii, but all of the Tongs. Such ambition is a quality that modern women are praised for, but back in the 1870s? And with so much on the line? It’s easier for Ah Sahm, whose aims are generally simple and noble, but Mai Ling’s are complex and perilous. Without a doubt in my mind, the writers and Dianne Doan made season three the best one yet for Mai, crafting a storyline that enlivens otherwise middling episodes.

Out in the countryside, Nellie and Ah Toy grow their romance as well as their haven for abused Chinese women. When Strickland comes along and threatens to take their land, it kicks off a season-long rivalry between the two parties. I have to say, Adam Rayner does a hell of a job making Strickland a charismatic villain. His motives (money/power) are cliched, sure, but his methods are an effective mix of crafty and sinister, and therefore, really entertaining to watch. Like Leary, he’s a veteran of the American Civil War, and being a cavalry man, he’s quite skilled with a sabre. All of this means that he’s both tough to outsmart and deadly in a fight. He has all the makings of Warrior’s most dangerous antagonist yet.

Unfortunately, with each passing episode, Strickland’s subplots become increasingly repetitive. If he’s not sparring in one manner or another with Nellie and Ah Toy, he’s tutoring Leary on how to be a ruthless businessman and politician. On the one hand, some viewers will enjoy how these scenes bring to mind the oppressive privileges of patriarchal power, knowing that those who take advantage of them in modern fiction are likely to earn a violent comeuppance. On the other, viewers like me will see these scenes for what they kind of are: a means to keep certain side characters occupied for a period of time. Strickland’s dealings with Leary, Nellie, and Ah Toy have virtually no bearing on the Hop Wei-Long Zii storyline. So, when Warrior cuts away from Ah Sahm to check in on Ah Toy, it feels like a transition from one half of the story to the other. This is what I was referring to when I said that there’s a duality to this season.

Outside of this duality, there’s what I’d call the everyone-else-group, which consists of Bill, Chao, and Buckley. At least with these three men, there’s a modicum of overlap with the two primary story arcs. Buckley is running for mayor, resulting in a number of sharply performed and written tête-à-têtes with Mai Ling, Leary, and Strickland. Chao is up to his usual business, acting as middle man and occasional confidant for members of the opposing Tongs. He’s not as prominent this season as I’d hoped, but Hoon Lee’s performance keeps his character feeling vital even when he sometimes isn’t. If anyone gets the short end in this group, it’s Bill, who spends most of this season vacillating over his future. It’s not riveting stuff, but like Hoon Lee, Kieran Bew is such a great actor that I was invested anyway. Thankfully, Bill receives a few notable moments later on, indicating that the writing team got wise that his subplot was lagging behind.

This all leads me to my main issue with season three of Warrior: it lacks cohesion. Its first two seasons weren’t perfect in this regard either, but the writers ultimately found ways to link almost everything by each season’s finale. If Buckley’s subplot impacted Mai Ling, then it would also impact Ah Sahm, which impacted Young Jun, and so on. The end result was a fictional version of San Francisco that sported a population of many races and classes that somehow seemed totally interconnected. This idea of togetherness is crucial to Warrior’s central thesis: that all people should be welcomed and allowed to flourish, despite the pernicious desires of the upper crust. When season three concluded, I couldn’t see that togetherness – or better put, narrative harmony – that made the first two seasons feel truly special. That said, each disparate story is engaging enough on its own, so they’re still worth a paying attention to.

As I sit here and write this, I realize that everything I just pointed out – the character developments and dual storylines – could serve very well as a bridge to this show’s fourth and potentially final season. It seems possible, or perhaps likely, that certain characters were sidelined this season so that others could move the story further down the tracks. At a certain point, those sidelined will get back on; there just wasn’t a seat for them this season. If this is indeed the case, then that’s totally understandable. However, it wouldn’t change the fact that it’s fairly annoying to watch a few of these beloved characters get relegated to runtime padding. And it’s even more annoying still to see how some of the new additions, like Kong Pak, lose prominence as the season wears on, another problem that’s likely a bi-product of setting the stage for what’s next. I don’t know; maybe I’m wrong to give this talented writing team the benefit of the doubt in this way. Maybe they simply ran out of ideas.

If it’s sounds like I’m disappointed, it’s because I hold Warrior to the high standard it set with its first two seasons. Nevertheless, I can judge this third run on its own merits, regardless of expectation. Despite my critiques, these ten episodes still kick ass. The action is still gratifyingly grisly and well-choreographed, the good guys are still complicated, and the bad guys are still insidious.*** Yes, the story is weaker than it’s been in the past, but at least it proceeds at a steady pace and more often than not, moves the needle. As I said earlier, Warrior is not high art, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t artful. It’s still the best action show on TV, and I’m pretty sure HBO realizes this. Let’s hope a season four renewal is on the near horizon.

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

Notes:

* This counterfeiting scheme also gets Lee involved in a meaningful way, after he’s roped in to the investigation by Secret Service Agent Edmund Moseley (Nick Cordileone). Lee is the likable southern gentleman he always is, but Moseley is a scene stealer. Cordileone plays Moseley in such a way that makes him difficult to pin down, and the unpredictability that stems from that turns this subplot into one of the more engaging ones.

** [Minor Spoiler] If you’ve seen the finale of season two, and the trailers for three, then you know that Ah Sahm and Young Jun begin to grow apart this season. Now, I understand how Ah Sahm’s reputation as a folk hero threatens Young Jun, but that’s not always why they butt heads throughout these ten episodes. Ultimately, I understand why their relationship went down this path, but there’s no denying it feels a little forced. A little more finesse from the writers could’ve gone a long way with this subplot.

*** My only issue with Warrior‘s villains is that they got a little predictable in season three. Strickland is a rich, powerful white guy. Buckley remains a rich, powerful white guy. Leary is less rich, but he’s powerful, and white. I didn’t even mention the new police chief, Benjamin Atwood (Neels Clasen), who’s extremely evil and yep, very white. Season two balanced things by adding Zing (Dustin Nguyen), and that kind of presence would’ve helped here.