Taylor Sheridan's 'Yellowstone' is a Streaming-Era Cinematic Universe Done Right
As the third season finale of 'Yellowstone' debuts on CBS, why a loosely connected spin-off model is more viable than the MCU or 'Star Wars' episodics
On August 28, 2020, the third season finale of the Kevin Costner-starring Yellowstone debuted on the Paramount Network with a record-breaking 7.6 million viewers. That cemented the show as essentially the most popular show on conventional television. In the fall of 2023, CBS began airing the first three seasons, with the pilot pulling in 6.6 million viewers and the third season episodes eventually averaging out to around averaging 5 million each, climaxing with the network debut of the third series finale just last night.
It’s a sign that — contractual issues notwithstanding — any number of existing streaming shows (The Mandalorian, Ted Lasso, Poker Face, etc.) could probably pull halfway decent numbers from casual viewers who don’t reguarly watch their respective streaming platforms. However, it’s also a sign of the popularity of the Taylor Sheridan and John Linson’s modern-day western soap opera (essentially, like Empire and Succession, a riff on King Lear as the Dutton patriarch deals with managing a ranching empire and his adult children) has become a mainstream sensation.
The how and why of this success should remind folks of what streaming was supposed to be for audiences burned out on Hollywood’s post-Avengers obsession with all-quadrant, cinematic universe fantasy franchises. The success of the spin-offs and other Taylor Sheridan-produced shows, ironically developed by (deep breath) President/CEO, SHOWTIME/MTV Entertainment Studios and Paramount Media Networks Chris McCarthy after Yellowstone SVOD rights ended up at Peacock, should remind executives that spin-offs have to offer more than just the same meal in a different bowl.
Streaming was supposed to be a safe place for non-franchise, adult-skewing fare
On that second note, the rise of streaming as a means of entertainment consumption in the mid-2010s coincided with the rise of so-called “prestige TV.” The notion was, think HBO’s True Detective or Netflix’s House of Cards, that streaming and some cable networks could provide high-quality television that ran in contrast to the theatrical industry’s post-The Avengers obsession with cinematic universes and literal or metaphorical superheroes. Shows like Orange is the New Black, The Handmaid’s Tale, VEEP and Mad Men were able to provide adult-skewing, star-driven, of-the-moment entertainment. None of these shows were required to sustain a franchise. None of them were so “big” that they couldn’t risk alienating a demographic or two via politically sensative content or onscreen inclusivity.
It’s a cliche to say that what used to be “just a good movie for adults” became a multi-part, often many-hours-long streaming miniseries. And yes, in a prior decade or two, Hugh Grant and Nicole Kidman’s murder mystery melodrama The Undoing would have been a well-reviewed 135-minute movie that grossed around $120 million worldwide on a $45 million budget. In 2020, it was a six-part, 5.5-hour HBO minieseries. But, hey, while Hollywood was caught up in MCU fever, at least the streamers were still offering up television shows and movies that gave old-school movie stars a chance to just ply their trade in mainstream entertainment pitched at discerning adults.
Now even streaming has become hyperfocused on IP and franchises
What happened? Well, everyone got into the streaming pool. While Netflix had a massive user base and the advantage of being first, the competitors (HBO Max, Paramount+, Peacock, etc.) had to offer up the kind of shows that would get media attention and theoretically encourage new subscribers. That meant that the streaming servies began emphasizing IP and franchises just as much as the theatrical departments.
Cue Disney tripling down on MCU shows and Star Wars episodics, and already canceled shows like Dexter, Sex and the City, Gossip Girl, Fraiser and Criminal Minds getting reboots or continuations. Cue miniseries-length remakes of Fatal Attraction or episodic prequels to Grease featuring the prior generation of Pink Ladies, complete with feature-film production values and sound bites explaining how these new variations were less problematic or more progressive/empowering than the original incarnations. Cue season-long sequels to not-even-terribly-successful fantasy flicks like Willow.
Even Netflix got into the game with gender-swapped remakes of She’s All That and live-action revamps of The Last Airbender and Cowboy Bebop. And yet, the ratings charts show time after time that streaming audiences would rather either watch older movies and shows or sample newer adaptations like Bridgerton or high-quality throwbacks like The Night Agent. The streaming wars delivered a $1 billion Lord of the Rings prequel show, but Prime audiences said, “Yes, but tell me more about this Jack Reacher fellow.”
Twelve of one or a dozen of the other?
The Marvel TV shows, some (She-Hulk, Hawkeye) better than others (Secret Invasion, Moon Knight), often deal with similar stories in terms of the big solution to every problem or mystery being “protagonist puts on a costume and fights bad guys.” The various Star Wars shows all take place in the same universe and mostly within two distinct timelines (either between Revenge of the Sith and A New Hope or right after Return of the Jedi). Differing quality notwithstanding, watching The Mandalorian, Obi-Wan, Andor, The Book of Bobba Fett and Ashoka cannot help but taste like five variations on the same stew.
That’s not automatically a problem, as the various Law & Order shows are not that different from each other. Once upon a time, the C.S.I. brand was TV’s biggest “franchise.” The notion of spin-offs and disconnected “in universe” shows is not a new one. See also: Good Times, Fraiser, Angel and the CW “ArrowVerse” shows.
However, when you give audiences Criminal Minds and then also Criminal Minds: Beyond Borders and Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior, well, how many times will audiences, especially now with a plethora of choices, want to watch essentially the same show dipped in different coats of paint? Or, concurrently, we now know that audiences liked The Witcher because they liked seeing Henry Cavill grunt and fight monsters, but they had no interest in The Witcher: Blood Origin.
The Sheridan-produced shows are different from each other. Audiences could watch each of them on a weekly basis and feel like they watched a six different television shows.
Not six kinds of soup, but rather six different meals
Yellowstone is a primetime soap opera in the vein of Dallas or Dynasty. 1883 and 1923 are both prequel westerns, even if Sam Elliot and Faith Hill’s single-season 1883 is arguably darker and more downbeat than Harrison Ford and Helen Mirren’s 1923.
Meanwhile, in “other universes,” Tulsa King is a comedy about a long-incarcertated New York mob capo (Sylvester Stallone) who tries to reinvent himself in Oklahoma. Jeremy Renner’s The Mayor of Kingstown (co-created by Sheridan and Hugh Dillon) is a downbeat and cynical saga of a rust belt Michigan city whose only thriving industry is its prison. Lioness: Black Ops is a Tom Clancy-ish overseas espionage actioner headlined by Zoe Saldana and featuring supporting turns from Nicole Kidman and Morgan Freeman. Lawmen: Bass Reeves (created by Chad Feehan) tells the single-season tale of the first African-American deputy U.S. Marshal west of the Mississippi River.
The shows, be they great or merely okay on an episode-by-episode basis, are offer season-long arcs within self-contained stories and distinct three-act structured episodes. They are far closer to old-school television than “an eight-hour movie.” Moreover, they are different enough from each other that they have unto-itself appeal.
Don’t care about Yellowstone but want to watch Zoe Saldana ruthlessly hunt down overseas terrorists? You can just watch Lioness. You want to see Jeremy Renner futily create a brokered peace amid a city undone by the mass incarceration industrial complex? Mayor of Kingstown is the weekly feel-bad show for you. Whether I cared all that much about the Kevin Costner-starring “mother ship” (confession: I’m three seasons behind), I wasn’t going to miss a western melodrama pitting Harrison Ford and Helen Mirren against Timothy Dalton.
An example of what streaming and world-building should be
Yellowstone, its spin-offs and the other Sheridan-produced shows are not TV versions of once-successful theatrical movies. Nor are they all-quadrants, nostalgia-skewing fantasy action franchise fare. They are aimed at adults, with big movie stars who don’t have to play costumed heroes or their mentors, in explicitely grown-up melodramas.
The shows are unflinching about the performative cruelty performed by those (usually white men) in power against those deemed lesser or expendable. Oh, and Dalton’s 1883 baddie has some very R-rated kinks. They each have season-long arcs but also singular episodes (often running as little as 35 minutes). They are, warts and all, refreshingly old-fashioned and at least pretty good television.
Yes, there is a certain nostalgic element in terms of their appeal as “Dad TV” or “entertainment aimed at flyover country.” However, their politics aren’t binary and their stories can be self-criticiquing and morally complicated. Lioness and especially Lawmen for example highlight how mere demographic inclusion within a inequitable power structure is not enough to create systemic change. Reeves is constantly forced to question whether he is an exception to the rule or an inevitable accomplice, which gives Lawmen an emotional kick alongside seeing Black faces in conventionally white spaces.
As Paramount tries to turn Billions into an expanded universe and Netflix ponders the future of Stranger Things, The Witcher and Bridgerton while Disney+ struggles with their too-much/too-soon dive into MCU television, the lesson is simple: If you want successful televison, try making television. If you want loosely or specifically interconnected shows to capitalize on a singular hit, make sure each show is different enough that A) it doesn’t evoke déjà vu and B) it can appeal to those with little interest in the initial brand or IP.
Sheridan really won the game of thrones when he got Paramount to buy him 266,000 acres of ranchland. That's the gift that keeps on giving.