
‘Strawberries’
Courtesy of Lucky Number
The sun never sets on the Taylor Sheridan empire.
This year alone three new Taylor Sheridan shows have debuted, with “Marshals,” on CBS and “The Madison” on Paramount+. Another new show, set in the “Yellowstone” universe (“Dutton Ranch”) is hitting Paramount+ this weekend.
It would be one thing, too, if Sheridan simply created new shows and left others to oversee them. While the day-to-day is left to a team of trusted collaborators, Sheridan writes a shocking amount of the material – including whole seasons of the most popular series on television. And while his flagship show, “Yellowstone,” might have reached an abrupt end due to salary disputes and behind-the-scenes wrangling, the franchise is very much alive and well, with several more spinoff series penciled in (including the long-awaited “6666” spinoff set at the historic Texas ranch that Sheridan now owns and “1944,” following in the footsteps of “1883” and “1923”).
But before we get even further along in the Sheridan-verse, we thought we’d pause and take a look at everything that has been released so far – cowboy hats and giant belt buckles are optional but strongly encouraged.
One note: we will not be including “The Road,” Sheridan’s weird country music competition show that Sheridan co-created with Blake Shelton. The show premiered last fall on CBS and, as of now, has yet to be renewed. Instead, we will focus on Sheridan’s narrative output. Yee-haw!

“Mayor of Kingstown,” which began in 2021 and concludes its fifth and final season later this year, stars Jeremy Renner as a man running a for-profit prison in fictional Kingstown, Michigan. (Yes, Sheridan deviates from his Old West milieu for this one.) Sheridan co-created the show with Hugh Dillon and has been less involved as the show has trudged along; he hasn’t had a writing credit since the start of season 2 back in early 2023. The narrative clarity of the show has suffered as a result. Stephen King said it in a since-deleted tweet in 2024: We may not know what is going on, but we love the show. Though it’s been tougher as “Mayor of Kingstown” has worn on. It’ll be sad when “Mayor of Kingstown” ends, but maybe it’s for the best. We’ve been locked up for too long.

“Tulsa King” started out strong, with an ingenious premise – Sylvester Stallone plays a made man who, after going to prison for the family, expects that he’ll be elevated in the New York mafia. Instead, they send him to run an operation in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The series, at least initially, charted the establishment of his new criminal empire and his acclimation to life outside the prison walls. And it was really funny. As the show has gone on, it has gotten darker and more violent, with a new spinoff led by Samuel L. Jackson debuting this fall. And it’s hard not to factor in the absolutely abhorrent behavior of Stallone outside the series, kowtowing to Trump in very public ways, into our enjoyment. (Hey, we tried.)
“Tulsa King” also has some of the most insane behind-the-scenes drama of any of Sheridan’s series, which is saying something, with Terence Winter, a veteran of “The Sopranos” and “Boardwalk Empire,” attempting to leave the show after the first season (he was talked into sticking around but left for good at the end of season 2, replaced by “Mayor of Kingstown” vet Dave Erickson). Sheridan has written the entire first season of “Frisco King,” the Texas-set spinoff with Jackson (after it was initially announced as “NOLA King” and taking place in New Orleans), which has us pretty pumped.

Originally envisioned as an “1883” spinoff before awkwardly being saddled with the “Lawman” prefix, “Bass Reeves” stars David Oyelowo as the legendary lawman who inspired the Lone Ranger. Sheridan didn’t have much to do with the eventual show, which was overseen by executive producer and writer Chad Feehan (who will be working on the upcoming “The Dutton Ranch” series), and it was a fascinating mixture of historical drama, serial killer thriller and old-fashioned western. At its heart was a riveting, grade-A performance by Oyelowo as a complicated lawman whose oversized legacy belied the very human man at its center.
With a terrific supporting cast that included Donald Sutherland, Dennis Quaid and Barry Pepper, with appearances from Shea Whigham and Garrett Hedlund, “Bass Reeves” broke new ground while also being downright classical in its storytelling. The “Lawman” part of the title was meant to inspire an entire series of shows, with subsequent seasons focused on other iconic lawmen from history. But it seems that “Bass Reeves” wasn’t popular enough. And with Feehan now working on another part of the vast Sheridan ranch, we doubt that the show will ever return.

The “Yellowstone” franchise made the jump to network television earlier this year with “Marshals,” which follows Kayce Dutton (Luke Grimes), a former Navy SEAL who is recruited into a specialized group of U.S. Marshals in Montana. There’s an odd amount of crossover, at least thematically, with “The Madison,” with Kayce mourning the death of his beloved wife (Kelsey Asbille) and dealing with raising his troubled son (Brecken Merrill). But in place of “The Madison’s” more nakedly emotional scenes, “Marshals” takes the form of a down-and-dirty action series from the 1980’s. And it works – mostly.
Sheridan, ceding control of one of his “Yellowstone” properties for the first time, entrusted Spencer Hudnut, a veteran of “SEAL Team” and “The Blacklist: Redemption.” Hudnut knows his way around a very workable formula, surrounding Kayce with a group of rough-and-tumble agents (led by a charismatic Logan Marshall-Green), a smattering of additional “Yellowstone” cast members, and just enough cultural commentary about the conflict between outsiders and those on the Native American reservation to keep things interesting. “Marshals” is enjoyable and hugely entertaining, with some of the rougher edges of Sheridan’s best work sanded down to a more palpable, made-for-prime-time sheen.

Originally saddled with the ungainly prefix “Special Ops,” the more streamlined “Lioness” follows Cruz Manuelos (Laysla De Oliveira), a former Marine and full-time screw-up, who is drafted into a secret program. Her job is to befriend the daughter of a terror suspect, feeding the CIA valuable intelligence while trying not to get outed.
The early “Lioness” episodes, directed by the great Australian filmmaker John Hillcoat, crackled with an intensity singular even within the full-throttle oeuvre of Sheridan – pushing the limits both physically and emotionally. The show is embroidered by fine performances by Zoe Saldaña as the senior officer in charge of the Lioness program (as electrifying as ever), Nicole Kidman, Morgan Freeman and Michael Kelly. (Season 2 added folks like Kirk Acevedo and Genesis Rodriguez and wisely bumped Kelly and Jennifer Ehl to full-time cast members.)
Incredibly, Sheridan has written every single episode of “Lioness” thus far (it was renewed for a third season), meticulously charting every twist and turn and making a largely female cast just as tough as any of his cowboy shows. He wouldn’t show his sensitive side until “The Madison.” It’s at least good to know it’s there.

The second contemporary “Yellowstone” spinoff (and the second to release this year) is “Dutton Ranch,” which follows Rip (Cole Hauser), Beth (Kelly Reilly) and Carter (Finn Little) as they relocate from Montana to Texas after a fire ravages their homestead. They are looking for a better life – a quiet life – but this being part of the “Yellowstone” universe, things don’t exactly go according to plan. They soon run afoul of a wealthy slaughterhouse owner (Annette Bening) and her ne’er-do-well son (Jai Courtney) and face mounting threats to their peaceful existence out on the farm.
“Dutton Ranch” feels like a much truer follow-up to “Yellowstone” than “Marshals,” which is hemmed in by being a network show, able to dig into the messy emotions of the characters and the occasionally violent things that they do to each other. There is also a lovely complexity to the dynamics on the ranch, where humans and animals have to coexist and while everyone is fighting to survive. There’s a contemplative beauty underneath the supercharged machismo of “Dutton Ranch.” And we hope it runs for years and years to come.

“1883” was always going to be something of a gamble. The first of the “Yellowstone” spinoff series (which didn’t have the branding of the mainline show due to an arcane legal note that would send anything with the title “Yellowstone” to Peacock), Sheridan decided to go far back in time and make a really-for-real western. And the resulting series was pretty spectacular.
“1883” follows James Dillard Dutton (Tim McGraw), John Dutton’s (Kevin Costner) great-grandfather, as he travels west with his family following the Civil War. Sam Elliott is a Pinkerton agent leading the expedition; Faith Hill is Margaret Dutton. By the end of the 10 episodes, the Duttons have settled on the land that will one day become the Yellowstone Ranch. And the amount of suffering and turmoil they have to endure is downright biblical (one review said that Sheridan “leans into misery with a near-perverse glee”).
“1883” was a hugely expensive gamble, but as a test for the elasticity and durability of “Yellowstone” as a franchise, it passed with flying colors. The show was a huge success for Paramount+ and paved the way for future installments in the “Yellowstone” saga. It also, crucially, introduced Isabel May’s doomed Elsa Dutton, whose lyrical narration would be carried over to “1923” and even the final episode of “Yellowstone.” She is haunting the Dutton lineage.

While “Bass Reeves” at one point carried a “1883” prefix, the true follow-up to “1883” wouldn’t arrive until “1923,” which follows Jacob Dutton (Harrison Ford), the older brother of Tim McGraw’s James Dutton, and his wife Clara (Helen Mirren), during a particularly tumultuous time for the Dutton Ranch. Among the complications: a wealthy landowner (a vicious, mustache-twirling Timothy Dalton) who attempts to seize the land, an ongoing drought and the lawlessness of Prohibition.
The scope and scale of “1883” has opened up considerably, offering crisscrossing narrative paths, including some dedicated to Teonna Rainwater (Aminah Nieves), a Native American woman with ties to a family that will become a chief adversary to the Duttons in the present “Yellowstone” chronology. There’s also Spencer Dutton (Brandon Sklenar), the younger son of the Duttons from “1883,” who after witnessing the horrors of World War I becomes a big game hunter in Africa and, after a desperate plea to return home, spends much of the series trying to get back to the ranch.
Occasionally, “1923” was in danger of toppling over. There’s just so much stuff. But that unwieldiness lends the series a vital unpredictability and, with 16 episodes spread across two seasons, Sheridan is able to conjure his grandest epic yet, while still embedding enough mysteries for the saga to gamely continue. There’s still more to explore with the Duttons yet.

With “Landman,” partially based on a nonfiction Texas Monthly podcast by Christian Wallace, Sheridan has given us his greatest creation this side of John Dutton – Tommy Norris (Billy Bob Thornton), a scheming landman working for a fictional company called M-Tex Oil. He’s got a horndog ex-slash-current wife (Ali Larter), a son (Jacob Lofland) desperate to get into the family business, and a well-meaning cheerleader daughter (Michelle Randolph). And that’s just on the home side. At work, he’s dealing with a drug kingpin turned business partner (Andy Garcia) and his boss’s wife (Demi Moore), who has taken over the company.
While the first season was reasonably grounded, Season 2 moved out of reality and into Sheridan territory, with subplots involving a killer gas leak, an accidental murder and a nearly “Succession”-level of business world maneuvering. Plus, Sam Elliott was added to the cast as Tommy’s father, which was an undeniable hoot. But at the center of everything is Thornton’s Norris, a hangdog fixer who drinks too much, smokes too much, and is too enamored with his troublemaker wife. He is both the emotional center of “Landman” and its spiritual foundation. In season 2, which just wrapped up, he keeps seeing a wolf that walks up to his property. He knows it’s symbolic of something bad on the horizon, but he can’t keep wheeling and dealing. As he said about cigarettes in a different episode altogether – “it might kill me, but it won’t kill me today.” Amen Tommy.

“The Madison,” in some ways, feels like Sheridan’s boldest move yet. It’s an expansion into uncharted territory. If his other shows existed primarily for thrills, “The Madison” is in it for feels.
Originally meant to be another “Yellowstone” spinoff, but since divorced from the mainline series, “The Madison” follows Michelle Pfieffer as she mourns the loss of her husband (Kurt Russell), traveling from New York City to the small Montana cabin where he was the happiest. She brings her two adult daughters with her (one is recently married, the other has kids and is divorced), and they commune with the land and reconnect with the spirit of their lost patriarch. If that sounds hokey, that’s because “The Madison” is unabashedly earnest, oscillating between “The Great Outdoors”-style comedy as the city folk deal with outhouses and hornet stings and riding horses, and deep, exposed-nerve-ending rawness as they deal with a profound loss and all the complicated emotions that surround that loss.
Pfieffer gives perhaps the best performance in any Sheridan production, which is really saying something, and Russell is a sage presence, appearing in flashbacks after the first episode, a spiritual guide from beyond the grave. It’s also the show where Sheridan allows you to truly appreciate the land, as it transforms from threat to treasure in the eyes of the family. So much of his series are about people wrangling for land – whether it’s the Dutton family and those who want to possess the ranch or Tommy Norris searching for new places to drill – in “The Madison,” the land is simply a place of cosmic healing. There’s something deeply beautiful about that. And there’s something deeply beautiful about “The Madison” as a whole.

“Yellowstone” is the alpha and the omega, not just of the surrounding universe that it has inspired but of Sheridan’s television output as a whole. When the show debuted, Sheridan was still known as one of Hollywood’s most exciting screenwriters, an actor-turned-scribe who had written “Sicario” and “Hell or High Water,” which had earned Sheridan an Academy Award nomination, and directed the gritty thriller “Wind River” (a movie that clearly stands as the test run for “Yellowstone”). With “Yellowstone,” marketed as a western melodrama in the vein of “Dallas,” Sheridan entered another stratosphere.
Kevin Costner plays John Dutton III, who owns the titular ranch in Montana, a large cattle ranch that is constantly under siege – from unscrupulous developers and neighboring interests, like the Rainwater clan on the nearby reservation. Early seasons of the show cast Dutton as a mythic figure, who would coldheartedly order the execution of those who crossed him, all while cozying up to his extended, extremely screwed-up family. As the seasons went on, Dutton was less of a kingpin character, eventually becoming the governor of the state. The drama turned inward, focusing on the squabbling siblings and the lengths they were willing to go to in order to protect or usurp the family’s combined power. Of course, at the height of the show’s popularity (when it became the most-watched program on TV), a real-life falling out between Sheridan and Costner meant that the show’s star would walk away before the series had concluded. This meant a last-minute scramble that saw the last season dealing with the fallout of both the real-world drama and how John was written out in the aftermath. It more fizzled out than crescendoed.
But the show remains a phenomenon, and Sheridan’s construction of it is a truly dizzying accomplishment. This was a series where something was happening all the time. An early episode had a character discover priceless dinosaur bones and get involved in a meth lab explosion – the same episode! And while it didn’t always work, it was one of the most compelling, most compulsively watchable shows of the modern era. Sheridan was never courting the kinds of accolades that accompanied most prestige TV. He just wanted to make a show that you couldn’t take your eyes off of. He succeeded spectacularly.
>
Promises of “the sweetest” turn into nightmares in Paris-based Moroccan auteur Laïla Marrakchi‘s new film Strawberries, whose original title, La más dulce, hints at just that hoped-for sweetness. The story is inspired by real-life cases of Moroccan women who travel to Spain for seasonal fruit-picking work. Their plan: to earn money with hard work in hot weather, which they can bring back to their families back home to improve their lives. Their reality: living conditions that leave a lot to be desired, less money than promised, modern-day exploitation and slavery, and even sexual harassment and prostitution.
Lucky Number is handling international sales for the title, which will world premiere in Cannes’ Un Certain Regard program on xxx.
Marrakchi, known for such features as Marock and Rock the Casbah and such TV series as French spy thriller The Bureau and Damien Chazelle’s The Eddy, co-wrote the script with Delphine Agut. Nisrin Erradi (Everybody Loves Touda, Adam), Hajar Graigaa, Hind Braik, Fatima Attif, Larbi Mohammed Ajbar and Itsaso Arana feature in the cast. The film was produced by Juliette Schrameck (Coward, Sentimental Value, The Worst Person in the World) via her production banner Lumen, along with Morocco’s Mont Fleuri Production, Spain’s Fasten Films and Belgium’s Mirage Films.
Marrakchi talked to THR about Strawberries, why she just had to make a film about Moroccan women working in Spanish fields to make their invisible heroism seen, and the echoes of #MeToo and neocolonialism of their experience.
What inspired you to make this film about a social and socio-economic issue that I didn’t have any real insight into before seeing Strawberries?
The first time I heard about this story was through a friend of mine who’s a journalist, specializing in problems related to migration. She wrote an article for The New York Times about these women. So, I went with her to Andalusia, and I discovered this crazy world and met some of the Moroccan women. I was really moved by these women who decide to leave Morocco and leave their families behind for money to have a better life in Morocco.
I was moved by these strong women. It’s difficult to leave any country for another country, even for three months or four months for work. And I was really impressed by them. After the three days that I spent with my friend, I decided to do more research and make a film about this situation.
We see horrible things, from bad living conditions and a lack of health support and these women not getting paid what they were promised, all the way to abuse and prostitution. Did you also hear from women who had better experiences?
I met lots of women working in the strawberry fields who had the experience of bad conditions and [abuse], but there were also some who went to Spain, had a good experience and went back to Morocco with money. They had the opportunity to have a better life in Morocco.
So, there are many stories, and they depend on the experience. My film tells this story, about the problems of harassment, of prostitution, and I try to show how difficult the work is and the conditions are. These women go there for a good reason, because they want to follow a dream, but then there is the reality of the work that no Spanish people want to do.

‘Strawberries’
Courtesy of Lucky Number
What can you tell us about the trial we see in the film? Is that based on any specific legal case?
There have been several trials, in which the workers, the pickers, tried to speak out about what’s happened in the greenhouses and in the fincas. But there is no good resolution, because people are afraid to speak out, and they step back because they [face] too much pressure, and this is a huge, huge industry.
For these Moroccan women, it’s difficult to speak up and speak out, because they can lose everything in Spain and in their [home] country. What I show in my film is really not simple at all. Speaking out is a privilege.
It’s a sad form of new colonialism. These women are coming from a background where this is the first time they leave Morocco. They have never traveled. They don’t have a higher education. Most of them come from the countryside. And it’s complicated when you don’t speak the language, when you don’t have the education, when you don’t have anything and you decide to leave your country to have a better life.
I am glad you mentioned the topic of language. I really felt the women’s struggles because I could neither understand them, nor the Spanish speakers without the subtitles. And I also felt how difficult it was for them to translate the different cultural and religious challenges they are confronted with…
Yes, it’s also a film about how your voice is sometimes [muted] or stolen. The translation can be tricky, because your words can be transformed, and you don’t have weapons to defend yourself, because they don’t have the education and the language [skills]. So, this is also a film about the relationship now between the Western world and the [Global] South. It’s about the racism and a lot of layers of other layers.
I enjoyed, but was surprised by, scenes where the women are joking and laughing together, which shows how they have a shared communal experience. Tell me a bit about why these scenes were key for you to include?
I love those. It’s really important to humanize these women. We live in the Western world and sometimes don’t realize that these people can love, can be funny and can be women [just like everybody else]. The big challenge of this film was for me not to make it all miserable. For me, it was really important to show these women, as real heroines and show the empowerment of these women. But they can also be cruel to each other. It’s not black and white.
Tell me how you chose the titles, “The Sweetest,” or Strawberries in English?
It’s like a tagline, a slogan. And I like the idea of playing with these two things – the thing that is very sweet is also hard at the same time. The dream of having a better life comes with the difficulty of the hard work.
Strawberries will give the world a chance to see your wonderful cast of actresses, who are known in Morocco but people elsewhere may still get to discover. How did you think about or approach featuring some of the Moroccan women you met in the film?
We used real pickers as extras in the film.
Is there anything else you would like to share?
I want to show these women who are often not visible. Through this film, I want to make them visible as strong women. It’s like an homage to these women, because they are so strong and amazing. They are like a rock. I was so impressed by the Moroccan women I met.
>
It’s not an SNL closer unless there’s a Joke Swap. The time-honored Weekend Update tradition sees co-anchors Colin Jost and Michael Che trading jabs they wrote for each other. In no-holds-barred bits from the past, everything — and everyone — is game, including Jost’s wife, two-time Oscar-nominated actress Scarlett Johansson, and the late-nighter’s trusty steward himself, Lorne Michaels.
This time around, the casualty was not a person, so much as a prized possession: Jost’s “award-winning” hair. After trading provocative jokes (see the highlights below), Che goaded Jost into reading out a particularly offensive one — “Ye can make awful music, but still be right about Hitler.”
To make up for the risqué joke, Jost then read from the cue card that he would be “sacrificing” his signature coif. “That’s right: I’m shaving it off,” he promised. “Send in the barber!”
When a barber materialized from off screen with clippers and a black cape, Jost continued: “Jerome, make me unpretty!”
It was Che that held him back, as Jerome got closer to Jost’s head.
“You was really gonna do it?” Che questioned. “Man, you are the greatest comedian of all time.”
“I was so scared,” Jost admitted.
The swap — which mostly falls along the lines of making Jost appear racist and Che appear like a sexual predator — was off to an auspicious start when Jost was forced to comment on Michael B. Jordan’s Oscar win, saying that difference between a Black vampire and white vampire is that the former “sucks dry … the welfare state.”
Continuing on, Jost’s flailing ferry once again took center stage as he read out: “I have a beautiful ferry to give any Black person a one-way trip to the motherland.”
Meanwhile, Che was forced to comment on the controversies of the Michael biopic: “Michael Jackson did nothing wrong. He was right to molest all those kids,” he read out. “When I was 10 years old, Michael Jackson molested me and … gave me a fetish for middle-aged white women.” As an aside, Che clarified: “That is not why I have that.”
>
In a lengthier sketch featuring a majority of the Saturday Night Live cast members, Will Ferrell portrayed an eccentric and mean-spirited high school theater instructor. And what’s better than a problematic teacher played by Ferrell? Two — the second of which is played by none other than Molly Shannon.
The two SNL classmates (both are alumni from the mid-90s through the early millennium) reunited in a winding bit that tracked the anxieties of the theater program’s students, who were fretting over the new cast list for the school production. The sketch is a resurrected one previously cut-for-time during Ferrell’s last hosting stint in 2019.
Featured player Jeremy Culhane, donning a felt hat, portrayed a student who recently booked a Cheerios commercial as a background actor — a role Ferrell’s teacher is clearly envious of. Meanwhile, Veronika Slowikowska featured as a nerdy student who often quipped “girl boner!” whenever discussing everything from Jacob Elordi’s latest project to Mikey Day’s TA character.
Among the funniest lines of the night was Ferrell’s character’s assertion that his “all white” take on The Color Purple was “brave,” despite detractors’ negative reactions.
After Kenan Thompson also briefly showed up as choreographer, wheeling out a protesting Sarah Sherman (whose character faced animosity from Ferrell’s for being in a wheelchair), and Marcello Hernández and Kam Patterson reunited their dynamic duo of nonchalant athletic high school boys, bursting through the door came Shannon.
She took center stage, dismissing claims her character was “too handsy” with the boys. Maintaining that her “tough as nails” yields results, she invited another featured player, Tommy Brennan, to demonstrate his highest vocal range. At this point, it becomes pretty easy to telegraph where the bit is going when she asks him to sing, but that doesn’t diminish the comedic return when Shannon pantomimes giving him a wedgie and cupping his crotch to get him to sing higher.
>
These ’90s fashion trends are making a comeback in 2017
According to Dior Couture, this taboo fashion accessory is back
Your comprehensive guide to this fall’s biggest trends
Model Jocelyn Chew’s Instagram is the best vacation you’ve ever had
A photo diary of the nightlife scene from LA To Ibiza
Emily Ratajkowski channels back-to-school style
9 Celebrities who have spoken out about being photoshopped
The tremendous importance of owning a perfect piece of clothing