TL;DR: Taylor Sheridan’s Mayor of Kingstown kicks off Season 4 with a vengeance. “Coming ’Round the Mountain” is a relentless, high-stakes premiere that cements the show as one of TV’s most gripping crime sagas. Jeremy Renner is magnetic, the writing is fearless, and Kingstown’s underworld still feels terrifyingly real. Sheridan might have built a TV empire, but this is still his crown jewel.

If there’s one thing Taylor Sheridan refuses to do, it’s hit the brakes. The man writes television like it’s a demolition derby — and Mayor of Kingstown Season 4’s premiere, “Coming ’Round the Mountain,” crashes through the gate at full throttle. There’s no recap montage, no gentle “previously on…” — just blood, consequence, and Jeremy Renner’s haunted stare reminding you that peace is a luxury the McLuskys never get.

I’ve said it before: Sheridan’s Mayor of Kingstown is The Wire if The Wire snorted a line of Yellowstone dust and started arm-wrestling morality. It’s a show that thrives in the gray — where every good deed rots, and every bad decision blooms. And Season 4’s first episode is proof that this crime epic hasn’t lost its venom. In fact, it might just be sharper than ever.

“Coming ’Round the Mountain” wastes no time cleaning up last season’s mess — because, frankly, there’s no cleaning this town. We pick up in the aftermath of Season 3’s blood-soaked finale: Iris is dead from an overdose (for real this time), and Kyle McLusky is heading straight to prison. That’s not a metaphor. Taylor Handley’s Kyle — baby brother, cop, and walking anxiety attack — is now an inmate at Anchor Bay Correctional, the same human pressure cooker that’s claimed half the city’s soul.

Mike (Jeremy Renner, back in full grim reaper mode) is cornered. The new warden, Nina Hobbs, isn’t playing ball — she’s all clean lines and cold justice, a bureaucratic iceberg to Mike’s volcanic rage. Evelyn’s washing her hands of the McLusky name, Ian’s clinging to silence, and every one of Mike’s supposed allies is running out of leverage. The show’s central paradox is back in play: the “mayor” of this decaying town has all the influence in the world — except where it matters most.

Say what you want about Sheridan — the man has a type. Stoic men, corrupt institutions, gunfire as punctuation. But Mayor of Kingstown has always been his most unfiltered story. There’s no cowboy code or national mythos here. Just prisons, politics, and a quiet acknowledgment that the American justice system is basically a slot machine that only pays in misery.

What makes Season 4 so addictive is how confidently it embraces that chaos. The tone remains as grimy as ever, the pacing surgical. There’s not a single ounce of filler — just grim momentum. Every scene drips with purpose, every character move feels inevitable. It’s the kind of episode that reminds you why Mayor of Kingstown stands apart from Sheridan’s growing TV empire (Tulsa King, Lawmen: Bass Reeves, etc.). Where those shows flirt with pulp, Kingstownstill stares into the abyss and takes notes.

Let’s talk about Iris, the ghost haunting Mike’s every move. Emma Laird’s tragic companion is officially out of the picture — and honestly, it’s the smartest creative call Sheridan’s made in two seasons. Her on-again-off-again trauma arc had started looping like a scratched record, and her death finally lets the narrative breathe.

Now, instead of juggling yet another rescue subplot, the show doubles down on Mike’s internal collapse. There’s no more saving people — just damage control. It’s Breaking Bad logic: strip away every safety net until there’s nothing left but the man and his choices.

Of course, in true Sheridan fashion, you can’t totally rule out a fake-out. Milo already pulled a Lazarus move, and Mayor of Kingstown loves a good resurrection. But for now, Iris’ absence gives the show a much-needed sense of finality — and grief.

Kyle’s incarceration could’ve been a gimmick — a “brother behind bars” plotline we’ve all seen before. But here? It’s genius. By flipping the script and putting a McLusky inside the machine they’ve been greasing for years, Sheridan gives the show new oxygen. Anchor Bay has always been the heart of Kingstown — a symbolic and literal hellhole where order and chaos share a bunk bed. Now, with Kyle trapped inside and Mike powerless to intervene, the stakes are higher than ever.

Jeremy Renner sells every second of Mike’s desperation. You can feel the weight of every deal, every handshake with the devil he’s made to keep this fragile system running. And Taylor Handley nails the fear — that quiet panic of a cop suddenly stripped of power in a world where weakness gets you killed.

Their glass-separated fist bump might be the most heartbreaking image in the show’s history — two brothers divided by bars, loyalty, and inevitability. You just know someone’s going to bleed before this season’s done.

And then there’s that opener. You know the one — Frank Moses introducing himself to the audience by turning a freight train into a literal guillotine for a bunch of unlucky Russians. It’s one of those jaw-drop Sheridan cold opens that makes you mutter “holy s***” to your TV. It’s theatrical, brutal, and a little bit genius — a neo-Western baptism of blood that tells you this season isn’t pulling any punches.

Frank’s arrival, along with CO rookie Cindy and the ever-reliable Bunny (still one of the show’s best characters), gives Season 4 the texture it needs. These aren’t just side quests — they’re fault lines. The kind that eventually split the city in half.

At this point, Mayor of Kingstown knows exactly what it is — and that’s its superpower. While Tulsa King experiments with tone shifts and comedic detours, Kingstown remains steadfastly bleak and compulsively watchable. It’s not trying to reinvent the wheel; it’s just making sure the wheel keeps spinning, even if it crushes a few souls along the way.

Renner, after his real-life recovery, feels sharper. There’s an authenticity in his eyes that wasn’t there before — a kind of lived-in exhaustion that turns Mike McLusky into something mythic. The show’s technicals remain impeccable too: washed-out cinematography, minimalist score, and that constant sense of unease that lingers like smoke.

Verdict

Mayor of Kingstown Season 4, Episode 1 is a brutal, beautifully orchestrated return — one that respects its own cliffhangers and doubles down on the fallout. It’s violent, moody, and morally bankrupt in all the right ways. Sheridan’s writing remains razor-sharp, Renner is back in fighting form, and the narrative stakes have never felt higher.