By Dustin Rowles | TV | June 4, 2024 |
By Dustin Rowles | TV | June 4, 2024 |
Jeremy Renner’s Mayor of Kingstown returned for its third season this week. As a viewer who has followed the series from the beginning, I finally asked myself midway through the episode, “What even is the point of this show?” Much like Taylor Sheridan’s most popular series, Yellowstone, Mayor of Kingstown is a mosaic of scenes woven together by a thread of recurring characters. Likewise, both series delve into the lawlessness of the land, with Kingstown centered on a prison city rather than the sprawling ranches of Montana.
If Mayor of Kingstown aspires to deliver a message, however, that message is lost on me. Unlike Yellowstone, which relies heavily on melodrama, the characters in Kingstown are thinly drawn and don’t engage with a plot so much as they bounce around like a pinball. The protagonist, Mike McLusky (Renner), is focused on extinguishing fires and maintaining an equilibrium - a Sisyphean endeavor that has defined the first two seasons.
That’s not a criticism of Mayor of Kingstown, exactly. The series is modestly entertaining, even if it feels directionless at times. There is no coveted Iron Throne to claim, for instance, as the role of Mayor is a burden that no one, including Mike, actively seeks. The mantle fell upon him unexpectedly when his older brother (played by Kyle Chandler in a brief appearance only long enough to put him in the trailer) was killed in the series opener.
The Mayor serves as an intermediary between the criminal elements inside the prison, the lawbreakers on the outside, and the police force tasked with maintaining order. The objective is not to eradicate crime but to manage it - akin to the “Hamsterdam” experiment in The Wire or the uneasy alliance between cops and motorcycle outlaws in Sons of Anarchy. The cops will turn a blind eye to minor transgressions, and in return, the criminals agree to minimize bloodshed and prison uprisings.
When bodies inevitably pile up or riots erupt, the Mayor must broker a fragile peace between the warring factions. In this world, there are no heroes, only bad guys. The police, often indistinguishable from the criminals they pursue, merely operate under the guise of the law.
On paper, the premise has the potential to serve as commentary on systemic racism, police brutality, and the flaws of the prison industrial complex. However, Mayor of Kingstown doesn’t bother. As a Taylor Sheridan production — even with the input of writers like Dave Erickson (Fear the Walking Dead) — the series is Sheridan’s and he won’t abide by any of that woke bullshit.
Themes and character development take a backseat to scenes of Mike McLusky driving from one crisis to another, engaging with various factions, only to be repeatedly pulled away by phone calls demanding his immediate attention elsewhere. There is a sense of futility as he battles an endless cycle of conflicts. There is no hope of resolution. The prison, the criminals, and the corruption within the police force are immutable constants.
Indeed, Mayor of Kingstown is mostly a slice-of-life portrayal of a man either in his car or — when the action starts to stagnate — confronting eruptions of violence. Storylines and character arcs are nonexistent. For instance, Dianne Wiest’s character, McClusky’s mother - a prison educator and believer in restorative justice - abruptly dies (Wiest left the show). Her funeral in the third season premiere serves not primarily as a way to honor her character but an opportunity to set off a car bomb.
Similarly, the character of Iris (Emma Laird), an escort initially brought to Kingstown to help control Mike, endured an abduction, sexual assault, and brutal violence. Mike saved her, and now Iris lingers in the background, more a plot device than a fully realized character, waiting in the wings for her next moment of plot relevance.
To be clear, I don’t dislike the series. Mayor of Kingstown is often compelling, and Renner is solid in the role, even if the point of the series remains elusive. As the third season unfolds, maybe the pieces will finally come together. For now, we are mostly just along for the ride.