So, The ‘King’ Is Crownless and The Kingdom Is Crumbling?
Let’s get this straight. Paramount’s golden goose, the show that somehow made Oklahoma seem interesting, the vehicle for Sylvester Stallone’s glorious, mumbling return to mob-style relevance, is heading into its fourth season without a showrunner. On set. Where the show happens. And this is being reported as just another Tuesday in Hollywood. Beautiful. Simply beautiful. You have an A-list, Mount Rushmore-level movie star who isn’t exactly known for his ‘go-with-the-flow’ personality, and the creative mastermind behind this whole universe is so busy cosplaying as a rancher on his own TV shows that he can’t be bothered to actually run the thing he created. Because nothing screams ‘confidence in your product’ like letting the inmates run the asylum. Nothing at all.
But this isn’t just about some scheduling conflict, is it? Oh, no. This is the logical endpoint of the Taylor Sheridan content machine, a sprawling, factory-farm of television that prizes quantity over, well, having a functional leadership structure. Sheridan is a brand now, not a writer. He’s the name you slap on the poster to get the green light, a mystical cowboy shaman who whispers plot points into the wind and hopes a competent crew catches them downstream. He’s got more shows than he has hats, and it’s finally, hilariously, catching up to him. And Stallone is stuck right in the middle of it. Poor guy.
Is Taylor Sheridan Even a Real Person Anymore? Or Just a Logo?
Seriously, I’m asking. Does he just approve scripts via carrier pigeon from his billion-dollar Texas ranch? The man is listed as creator or producer on approximately 4,000 shows, give or take. We’ve got Yellowstone, 1883, 1923, 2023 (probably), Mayor of Kingstown, Special Ops: Lioness, Land Man, and the list goes on until the heat death of the universe. And now Tulsa King, the one with actual Rocky Balboa in it, is left to fend for itself. It’s the ultimate gig economy hustle: create a universe, attach a massive star, and then ghost them when the actual hard work of making a TV show needs doing. It’s brilliant, in a sociopathic, late-stage capitalism sort of way.
Because they want you to believe this is normal. They want you to think that a showrunner, the person who is the creative and logistical field general of a multi-million-dollar production, is just an optional extra. A luxury. Like heated seats in a car. But anyone who knows anything about how television is made knows that’s a complete farce. Without a showrunner on set, who resolves creative disputes? Who steers the ship when an actor has an ‘idea’? Who ensures the tone doesn’t wobble from gritty mob drama to slapstick comedy from one scene to the next? Based on the premise, it’s already a tightrope walk. You have a 70-something New York mafioso dropped in Oklahoma. That concept can go south real fast. It needs a steady hand. Instead, it has an answering machine where a showrunner used to be.
And The Solution Is… Another Actress? Bless Their Hearts.
Oh, and here’s the punchline. Amidst this creative black hole, the big news is that they’ve hired Gretchen Mol. And don’t get me wrong, she’s a fantastic actress. A true professional. But this is like re-arranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. It’s a classic Hollywood misdirection. Look at the shiny new cast member! Don’t pay any attention to the fact that nobody is actually flying the plane! Adding a new series regular is a solution to a problem that doesn’t exist, while the massive, gaping, ‘Who Is In Charge Here?’ problem gets completely ignored. They’re adding a new ingredient to a cake that has no recipe. What could possibly go wrong?
What does this mean for Stallone? Imagine being him for a second. You signed on for this career-renaissance role, a part that perfectly fits your persona, and the show is a smash hit. Great. But you’re a guy who has directed, written, and produced your own blockbusters. You are not a passive participant. Now, you show up for Season 4, ready to work, and the captain’s chair is empty. Do you think Sly is just going to sit in his trailer and wait for instructions from the void? Absolutely not. This situation creates a power vacuum, and if there’s one thing we know about nature and Sylvester Stallone, it’s that they both abhor a vacuum. He’s going to step in. He has to. And that’s when things get *really* interesting. Or disastrous. Probably both.
Let’s Predict The Glorious Mess of Season 4
So, let’s play a game. What does a showrunner-less Season 4 of Tulsa King look like? Dwight probably becomes the actual king of Tulsa, gets elected mayor, and solves the city’s problems with a series of well-timed montages set to 80s rock music. Because why not? Without a guiding vision, a show reverts to its most basic instincts, and the most basic instinct of a Stallone project is for Stallone to triumph, preferably in slow motion. The nuanced, fish-out-of-water story that Sheridan initially set up? That’s gone. It’s out the window. Replaced by pure, uncut, Stallone-ism.
And you know what? I’m here for it. This is no longer a prestige TV drama. It’s a sociological experiment. It’s what happens when you give a beloved icon the keys to a kingdom he didn’t build and tell him to have at it. Will it be good? Almost certainly not in the way critics define ‘good’. But will it be entertaining? An absolute, unmitigated, must-watch car crash of epic proportions. They’ve accidentally created reality television. ‘The Real Housewives of Taylor Sheridan’s Neglected Productions’.
Paramount+ is banking its entire existence on the Sheridan-verse, and the chickens are finally coming home to roost on the porch of his ridiculously oversized ranch. He’s built an empire on a foundation of grit, authenticity, and old-school cool. But the reality is that it’s just another content farm, churning out product. Tulsa King is the first major sign that the system is breaking. The brand is diluting the very creative genius that built it. And it’s happening live, with one of the biggest movie stars on the planet trapped in the wreckage. Pass the popcorn. It’s going to be a bumpy, and hilarious, ride.
