The makers of mafia-related media would do well to keep in mind that “My offer to you is this: nothing” was not Michael Corleone’s opening gambit. Mike seemed perfectly willing to negotiate with that crooked Nevada senator until the man got belligerent and racist and insulted Michael’s family. Only then did the Don slam the negotiation window shut. What kind of businessman would he be if his initial offer were always “fuck you”?

Well, he’d be the same kind of businessman as Dwight Manfredi. Anytime he quote-unquote “negotiates” with a rival, the so-called General never gives an inch of ground — and somehow, this strategy always works. Dwight tells four different crime bosses where to stick it in this episode alone and suffers no consequences whatsoever. It’s hard to stay invested in the story of a man who’s always right.

I reviewed the season finale of Tulsa King for Vulture.

On Tulsa King, revenge is a dish best served in thirty minutes or less, or it’s free! Something like that, anyway. The show spent its entire second season establishing the five factions warring for control of Tulsa’s weed farms: the New York mob, led first by Chickie Invernizzi and now by Vince Antonacci; the Kansas City mob, led by Bill Bevilaqua; Cal Thresher, oil baron turned unscrupulous weed magnate; Jackie Ming, Thresher’s partner and the boss of the local Triad organization; and Dwight Manfredi’s Tulsa outfit itself, a motley crew of disparate interests — nebbishy weed-store owners, Native American growers and wind farmers, a smattering of wiseguys, would-be and otherwise — held together by Manfredi’s own charisma. In this episode, it dispenses with the conflict in a matter of seconds.

I reviewed this week’s Tulsa King for Vulture.

But I said there’s good stuff in this episode, and I mean it. For instance, the story of Armand, the accidental turncoat semi-ex-mafia guy played by Max Casella, could easily have come from either of the crime masterpieces Winter worked on. One by one, everyone Armand counts on to help him dodge the inevitable wrath of Dwight: The boss knows Armand’s the one who fed key intel to his rival, Cal Thresher, and payback is just a matter of time.

Armand calls his ex, but when she sees that he’s half in the bag at 9 a.m. and wants her to join witness protection with him, she tells him to lose her number. Enraged, he blows up at Spencer, his underling at the ranch, leading to an argument with his boss, Margaret, that ends in his firing. He turns to his erstwhile benefactor, Thresher, who pretty much laughs in his face; if Dwight’s onto him, he’s no longer useful.

Casella packs a wallop in his final pair of scenes. First, in an underpass, he leaves a tearful, uncomfortably candid message for one of his sons, in which the pain of life as a perpetual fuckup is etched into his face. Then, with desperation visible in his eyes and his pained grimace, he sticks up Tulsa’s consigliere, Goodie, and makes off with a sack of the outfit’s cash. His bluster on the way out the door seems like a cover-up for the knowledge he’s a dead man walking.

I reviewed this weeks’ Tulsa King for Vulture.

Now, this is a Tulsa King worth bending the knee for. With refreshingly nuanced, twisty plotting and sharp dialogue courtesy of writer David Flebotte, the somewhat misleadingly titled “Life Support” (more on that in a second) is, appropriately, the first time in a long time that this show has shown signs of real, creative life.

I reviewed this week’s Tulsa King for Vulture.

How big will the battle for Tulsa be? Dwight, Cal, Bill, Chickie, Jackie, and Vince all have competing interests they seem willing to achieve through violence. Winter’s skill in building Boardwalk Empire’s sprawling seasons toward stunning, violent season finales was legendary, the kind of thing even the show’s detractors gave him credit for. (It’s one of the best shows ever made, just to be clear.) Here’s hoping moving the action from New Jersey to Oklahoma won’t damage the bloody goods.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Tulsa King for Vulture.

Of course characters don’t speak for their writers, and television shows are not campaign platforms. But as these recaps have argued before, you simply can’t point to any place in Tulsa King where Dwight has acted in a way we’re supposed to find seriously immoral. Shaking down Bodhi, killing some bikers, jokingly humiliating his ex-girlfriend on the witness stand — less than ideal, but nothing you’re not supposed to be able to live with. Nothing you’re not supposed to find outright entertaining, in fact.

So when Dwight says school is turning boys into sissies, when Dwight’s primary interaction with immigrants comes at the end of a baseball bat, you can’t point to some really odious murder that demonstrates the show’s understanding that its main character is a piece of shit the way you could with Tony Soprano or Nucky Thompson. Dwight’s a delight! That’s his whole schtick. What’s the matter? Aren’t you delighted?

I reviewed this week’s Tulsa King for Vulture.

Both Tyson and Bodhi come back around, with Bodhi crunching the numbers to make their wind-powered hydroponic farm a success and Tyson giving the pep talk to the crew that Dwight himself is tired of giving. And like, of course they come back around. The central fantasy of Tulsa King is, “What if you were a 75-year-old guy who a bunch of young people thought was really cool?” If they stop thinking he’s cool, there goes the fantasy!

Dwight is never going to have a meaningful, lasting falling-out with his millennial minions, any more than he’s going to get killed off and the show will suddenly be about Garrett Hedlund instead of Sylvester Stallone. Dwight is surrounded by surrogate kids and grandkids who enjoy his anecdotes about the Fillmore East and find his jokes about their music being noise charming. For some people, that’s the kind of wish fulfillment that puts superheroes to shame.

I reviewed this week’s Tulsa King for Vulture.

Tulsa King doesn’t seem interested in being much more than the “Isn’t it fun for Sylvester Stallone to play a mobster on a TV show” show. I can’t say I’ve made my peace with it, but I at least understand and accept that it’s the case. But we’re wading in this thing; we might as well keep panning for gold. Every now and then, there’s a nugget.

I reviewed this week’s Tulsa King for Vulture.

Dwight “The General” Manfredi is a happy guy. Never mind the 25-year prison stint, the schism with his boss back home, or his upcoming trial: The man simply can’t stop smiling. Virtually every even remotely pleasant conversation Dwight has in this week’s episode of Tulsa King ends with a wordless shot of him grinning ear to ear, turning Sylvester Stallone’s leathery face improbably apple-cheeked, often accompanied by a wry chuckle.

And everyone else finds him delightful, too. His daughter Tina, his sister Joanne (Annabella Sciorra), and his multi-generational, multi-ethnic crew — they can’t stop smiling and laughing themselves when Dwight’s on the scene. During a protracted cameo from the contemporary country singer Jelly Roll, director Craig Zisk awkwardly cuts away from his conversation with Dwight to pan across the General’s soldiers, each one beaming and quietly laughing at their boss’s antics. Additional cutaways to individual members of the crew drive home the point that Dwight is a very lovable guy, in case you hadn’t noticed. But you probably have. This is not a subtle show.

I reviewed this week’s Tulsa King for Vulture.

The Tulsa King formula is a simple one. Stallone swaggers around, knocking out men decades his junior with one punch, wooing beautiful women, and building the confidence of his ragtag bunch in between drafting them to participate in gun battles with biker gangs and whatnot. “Benevolent mafia boss” is right up there with “cop who cares a lot and works hard” in terms of television fiction that whitewash lousy institutions. Still, I don’t think anyone’s in danger of believing this is how the mob actually works. The question is simply how much you enjoy watching Sylvester Stallone doing Goodfellas cosplay. If you want Stallone in a serious role in a serious story about crime, corruption, and redemption, Cop Land is streaming elsewhere on Paramount+ as we speak. Tulsa King is here for a good time, whether you’re having one watching it or not.

I reviewed the season premiere of Tulsa King for Vulture, where I’ll be covering the show all season long.