TL;DR: Untamed is a rugged, retro-feeling national park thriller that wears its masculinity like a well-worn flannel. Eric Bana broods, the scenery dazzles, and while the plot is predictable as a park map, there’s a strange comfort in its unadorned storytelling. It’s not innovative, but it is watchable.

Let me be honest: I am a sucker for anything set in the American wilderness. Throw in a grizzled lead, a suspicious corpse, and the promise of a dark secret festering beneath a postcard-perfect setting, and I’ll hit “Play” before you can say El Capitan. Netflix’s Untamed, starring Eric Bana as a brooding Yosemite special agent with more trauma than dialogue, leans hard into this formula. And for the most part, it works. Kind of.

But you’re going to need to pack your suspension of disbelief next to your trail mix, because Untamed isn’t particularly interested in reinventing the genre. In fact, it feels like it wandered out of the late ‘90s and just happened to bump into 2025 on the trail.

Where the Trees Are Tall and the Dialogue is Terse

Eric Bana plays Kyle Turner, a special agent with the ISB (that’s the Investigative Services Branch, not to be confused with actual park rangers—though you wouldn’t know it from his flannel-heavy wardrobe). Turner is the kind of man who prefers horses to horsepower, bourbon to small talk, and who carries the weight of some unnamed family tragedy like it’s in his saddlebag. He’s not a new kind of character. He’s every kind of character you’ve seen in stories like this.

Still, Bana does his part. He’s committed, stoic, and yes, very easy on the eyes. But this is the kind of role that demands more presence than depth, and that’s what we get.

The story kicks off when a young woman falls—literally—into the plot, disrupting the serene ascent of two climbers on El Capitan. Her body becomes the show’s entry point into a broader mystery, one that supposedly snakes its way through Yosemite’s picturesque trails, budget-constrained cabins, and shady, gun-toting underbellies. It sounds juicy. But don’t get too excited.

Bear Grylls with a Badge (And a Lot of Luck)

Turner is basically Bear Grylls if Bear Grylls were a cop and also had a tragic backstory that made him allergic to happiness. He can track a killer from a broken twig, identify a murder weapon from a handful of wet leaves, and notice a missing bead on a charm bracelet from 400 yards away. It’s absurd. But it’s the kind of absurd that, if you buy into it, becomes oddly comforting.

He also speaks almost exclusively in gravelly one-liners. “This isn’t LA. Things happen different out here,” he tells a skeptical sidekick. And my personal favorite: “You can’t spell wilderness without wild.” You half-expect the next line to be stitched onto a Bass Pro Shop hoodie.

Despite its crime-thriller ambitions, Untamed never fully leans into darkness. There’s a constant sense that this show was originally conceived as something grittier, something closer to True Detective Season 1, but then got sanded down for general audiences. It ends up feeling like the USA Network presents: National Parks Edition of rural noir.

Conspiracies in the Pines

The young woman’s death turns out to be part of a larger conspiracy. There’s corruption. There are cover-ups. There are men in suits telling Turner to stay off the case. It should be thrilling. Instead, it often feels like plot beats from a procedural bingo card: haunted hero, scrappy sidekick, reluctant boss, evil developer, grieving ex.

To its credit, there are a few sparks in the supporting cast. Sam Neill plays Turner’s mentor, Captain Souter, with just enough gruff charm to make you wish the show focused on him. Rosemarie DeWitt shows up as Turner’s ex-wife, mostly so he can call her in the middle of the night and sigh deeply. Lily Santiago, playing Vasquez—a rookie transplant from LA who is both smarter and more interesting than the script gives her credit for—deserves far more screen time.

But unfortunately, Untamed doesn’t know what to do with its women. They exist largely to be saved, threatened, or mourned. There’s a particularly egregious scene involving a lingering shot of a female corpse that feels about three decades out of touch. This isn’t just tone-deaf—it’s lazy.

Scenic, But Soft

Visually, Untamed is gorgeous. Yosemite is the real star here, and the show knows it. There are sweeping aerial shots of sunlit valleys, misty forests, and granite cliffs bathed in golden hour light. It almost justifies the show’s existence on vibes alone. If you’re the kind of person who watches Planet Earth on mute for the ambiance, you might enjoy Untamed on those terms.

But great scenery can only carry a series so far. You need real tension, real stakes, and some surprises along the way. The twists here are so clearly telegraphed that you can spot them from the opening credits. Even the final act—a slow-motion showdown involving a bear, a landslide, and a conveniently placed helicopter—feels more like a checklist than a climax.

A Throwback with Training Wheels

Ultimately, Untamed feels like a throwback to a different kind of television—simpler, safer, and significantly more male. It’s not interested in commentary or nuance. There are no politics here, despite the very real controversies surrounding park rangers and land protection in 2025. The show chooses to operate in a vacuum, which is both a relief and a missed opportunity.

So what is Untamed? It’s a detective show with a horse. A survivalist fantasy in flannel. A decent weekend binge for your dad, or for anyone nostalgic for the kind of network thrillers that once aired after NCIS. It’s not bad. It’s just not particularly good, either.

Verdict: 

Untamed coasts on stunning visuals and Eric Bana’s presence, but offers little that hasn’t been done before—and better. If you’re in the mood for a lightweight thriller with scenic detours, saddle up. Just don’t expect to be surprised.