Why American Primeval is the anti-Yellowstone
Netflix's latest original paints a much grubbier picture of Western life than Taylor Sheridan's Dallas-esque saga.
Warning: Contains minor spoilers for American Primeval.
Once considered a dusty relic, the Western genre is currently thriving on the small screen.
Even without its figurehead Kevin Costner, Yellowstone is still the biggest show on American TV and, perhaps even more remarkably, has spawned no fewer than four spin-offs.
Amazon and MGM+ have enjoyed success with Outer Range and Billy the Kid respectively. And just a few weeks after unveiling Australian outback drama Territory, Netflix is once again aiming to lasso viewers with a six-part series rooted in the Utah War of 1857.
Anyone hoping to settle down for a good old-fashioned tale of cowboys and saloons, however, should be warned that American Primeval is completely at odds with the current revival.
Indeed, whereas the Yellowstone universe – even prequels 1883 and 1923 – deals in soapy family sagas, John Wayne-esque cosplay and sweeping panoramic shots of the American West, this latest throwback is a relentlessly grim and grimy affair which has no interest whatsoever in glamourising or romanticising the Western life.
In fact, director Peter Berg (Friday Night Lights, Lone Survivor) made a conscious effort to ensure that American Primeval looked as ugly as possible ("These folks are not in a position to sit back and enjoy the vistas"), subjecting its motley crew of outlaws, tyrants and settlers to a torrent of dirt, rain and snow, not to mention copious amounts of blood and gore.
By the time its trigger-happy finale draws to a close, you may feel like you need a shower too.
The reason for all the carnage, of course, is the various disputes over land, religion and power between the Mormon faith, United States army and several native tribes, all of whom have a mindset of shoot first (or stab, drown, spear etc) and entirely forget about any questions later.
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And it doesn’t take long for their deeply-entrenched animosity to come to a brutal head: within the half-hour mark, the show has thrust us into the heart of the Mountain Meadows Massacre, a very real tragedy in which approximately 120 Westbound pioneers were mercilessly slaughtered.
Further proving that this is no glossy prime-time saga, its immersive, no-holds-barred camerawork evokes the traumatic opening scene in Saving Private Ryan.
Admittedly, the vast array of gunslingers, and their similarly grizzled appearance, often makes it difficult to distinguish whose side is winning, if any side is winning at all. Still, there are a handful of characters who manage to make a mark beyond their muddy footprints.
Channelling the Witchfinder General, Kim Coates, for example, is truly terrifying as Mormon church leader Brigham Young, one of two true-life figures and one who’ll stop at nothing to protect his flock.
It’s difficult not to notice Dane DeHaan’s Jacob Pratt, one such believer forced to trawl his way through the unforgiving landscape with his head sliced open. And Taylor Kitsch also makes his presence felt as Isaac, a grief-stricken loner and the closest the show gets to a heroic figure.
But unusually for a genre steeped in machoism, it’s the female figures who prove to be the most compelling.
The plucky Abish (Saura Lightfoot-Leon) continually evades near-certain death as she fights for her freedom, not only from her murderous captors but the husband she was forced into marrying.
Without saying a word, mute Shoshone native Two Moons (Shawnee Pourier) evokes a similar sense of courage and tenacity as she prepares to flee for a new life (sadly, despite the appointment of various Indigenous consultants, she’s one of the few tribespeople afforded any notable screentime).
Meanwhile, GLOW’s Betty Gilpin provides the heart of the show as Sara, a mum desperate to reunite her young son Devin (Preston Mota) with his father via a cross-frontier journey steeped in peril. "This doesn't seem to be a world that favours a woman on her own," she remarks, not unreasonably after surviving one of umpteen attempts on her life.
It also doesn't seem to be a world that favours anything much in the way of light relief, either. Sure, Brigham gets the odd zinger in between all the ruling with an iron fist. "It’s actually 20 but the press like to distil the facts," he deadpans after the second real-life figure, pioneering mountain man Jim Bridger (Shea Whigham), points out that 22 wives may be a tad greedy.
But the quest for authenticity makes screenwriter Mark L Smith’s similarly-themed The Revenant look like Blazing Saddles.
Indeed, American Primeval is unremittingly bleak with a capital U, with neither children (poor Devin certainly gets put through the wringer) nor animals (horse lovers should look away from the end of episode 4) safe from all the bloodshed.
Accompanying post-rockers Explosions in the Sky’s foreboding score, the constant gunfire and piercing screams also ensure that the show sounds as gloomy as it looks.
Such relentless misery will undoubtedly deter those accustomed to Westerns whose action is more likely to be confined to the bedroom or boardroom than the battlefield. Binge-friendly comfort viewing this is not.
But by stripping things back to its essentials, American Primeval has provided the genre’s increasingly crowded landscape with some much-needed true grit.
All six episodes of American Primeval are now available to stream on Netflix – sign up from £4.99 a month. Netflix is also available on Sky Glass and Virgin Media Stream.
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