Netflix’s binge-model approach hasn’t done any favors for expensive shows that take years to complete their second seasons, but it does aid limited event programs that otherwise would’ve struggled to reach a broad audience. Six 45-minute episodes of a contained story with a fixed ending point is a manageable commitment for subscribers, especially when many theatrical releases now average between 150 minutes and three hours. At the least, a murder mystery streaming series would offer a few red herrings, intrigue, and a satisfying conclusion in which the audience can feel a bit smarter than they were a few hours prior. Untamed failed to meet those standards, as the California-set drama is burdened by laborious pacing and shallow characterization.
The biggest hook that Untamed had was its location; set and filmed in Yosemite National Park, the show had the freedom to explore a sprawling wilderness that operated by the rules of the Old West. While a few Park Rangers are responsible for the safety of tourists, there’s no reasonable expectation that the small staff of the National Park Service Investigative Services Branch could constantly patrol 759,620 acres. Yosemite is also at a distance from other firm destination locations, and is impeded from the reception of any outside support. Any attempt to call in outside investigators is unlikely to offer solutions to a crisis, as a serial killer could spring at any time in a massive arena with poor cell phone reception.
Yosemite is filled with a lot of empty space, and that’s what Untamed is mostly focused on. Eric Bana’s given the thankless role of Kyle Turner, a veteran special agent who’s in the midst of a difficult separation from his ex-wife, Jill Bodwin (Rosemarie Dewitt). Although any official crimes with malicious intent must be reported to higher-ups within law enforcement, Turner’s knowledge of the area has made him the ideal candidate to investigate the mysterious death of a young woman. Turner’s commitment to the case is a public relations crisis for the park superintendent Lawrence Hamilton (Joe Holt), who’s desperate to preserve Yosemite’s image as a safe and inviting tourism site. Although the chief park ranger Paul Souter (Sam Neill) has more sympathy for Turner, he’s required to keep his team reigned in due to political pressure.
Turner doesn’t have a particularly compelling backstory. Without the philosophical curiosity of Rust Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) in True Detective, the redemptive angle of Mare Sheehan (Kate Winslet) in Mare of Easttown, or the villainous streak of Vic Mackey (Michael Chiklis) in The Shield, Turner is another solemn loner whose depression is linked to a dead child. Perhaps the series would’ve had the opportunity to expand on Turner’s grief if the exposition was played out in a natural way, but any ambiguities about his backstory are explained through conversations with his up-and-coming partner, Naya Vasquez (Lily Santiago), a rookie who’s assigned to the same case.
Vasquez’ consistent incompetence is a tool used by Untamed to keep the plot in motion, but her lack of experience is the only aspect of the series that’s elevated above procedures. Turner’s detached, robotic approach doesn’t have any dramatic stakes, as he’s usually the smartest person in the room. The cold, aggressive style of Bana’s performance could’ve been subversive had his nastiness landed with any impact, but there’s no other characters to sympathize with during Turner’s bouts of rage. Bana has played consummate professionals in films like Munich, Black Hawk Down, and Lone Survivor, but there’s no humanity in Untamed that would justify his performative authenticity.
Showrunner Mark L. Smith isn’t a novice in the realm of gritty crime stories, as he also penned the Oscar-winning revisionist western The Revenant, the World War II horror-thriller Overlord, and American Primeval, a much better Netflix mini-series released earlier this year. It’s no coincidence that Smith’s better projects are historically-based, and have the capacity to analyze trends relevant to their time period. The Revenant peered into America’s history of genocide, Overlord pried into conspiracies about Nazi experimentation, and American Primeval brought to life some disturbing truths about religious fundamentalism during the frontier era. The only insight of Untamed is the notion that powerful entities are likely to cover up their misdeeds, which may have been more shocking had the series aired in 1973.
Even if Untamed didn’t have the ambition to be a mystery show like Mindhunter or The Night Of, it’s guilty of the uncreative use of its setting. It’s never a good sign when the most interesting moment of suspense, which in this case is centered on a rowdy wild animal, is condensed into the last few minutes of the first episode. Outside of a claustrophobic flooded mind escape in the show’s third episode, Untamed is fairly routine in its brawls, foot chases, and intense exchanges. It’s surprisingly muted in emotion, as Turner’s more often mildly annoyed than he is terrified or infuriated.
While Netflix has attempted to stock its library with original content, it's unlikely that any new subscribers would sign up for the opportunity to watch Untamed.