1923 (2023) ***

“The herd comes first,” says matriarch Cara Dutton reading the riot act to a rancher’s daughter. Except it doesn’t. We’ve got umpteen diversions before herd matters lumber into frame. We’ve got dodgy accents, dodgy sheep, dodgy big-game hunters, even dodgier priests and nuns, and you have the feeling that the opening episodes are trying to cram in as many characters (and narrative arcs) as possible at the same time as deciding which ones, for dramatic effect, to kill off or fatally wound.

Some whose purpose remains obscure get beaten half to death anyway, in a quite bizarre segment, Native American Teonna Rainwater (Amina Nieves) has her hands beaten to a pulp by hardass nun Sister Mary (Jennifer Ehle), who in turn receives the same treatment from headmaster Father Renaud (Sebastian Roche) before he thrashes the young lass until she bleeds. Then we’ve got Spencer (Brendon Sklenar) whose only way to put out of his mind the horror of machine-gunning half the German army in the trenches of World War One is to head off to Africa and start knocking off elephants, leopards and lions, who have the temerity to get in some rich guy’s way. He’s not even that good a tracker, failing to notice that it’s two leopards not one who have been picking off humans. Presumably, the leopards had some clever way of masking their footprints.

Because of his failing he doesn’t notice the other leopard creeping up on some dumb rich blonde who’s stupid enough to venture out of her tent for late night ablutions. Even more surprising, nobody digs him up for this and, in fact, instead, another far more intelligent blonde Alexandra (Julia Schlaepfer) takes a shine to him – perhaps because he has the temerity to call her Alex – and soon they are sharing a tree to escape marauding lions and hyenas.

And while I’m being picky, what kind of rancher’s daughter, Liz Stafford (Michelle Randolph), doesn’t know that “the herd comes first” and kicks up a ruckus when cattle take precedence over her impending marriage to Jack Dutton (Darren Mann).

You’ll probably be aware that this is a prequel-sequel (taking place before Yellowstone but after 1873) so I suppose you can expect some confusion as the series struggles to get all its ducks in a row. Throw in Prohibition, possibly to explain why machine guns are so easy to come by.

Anyway, the central narrative, once you’ve managed to put all these interruptions to one side, is that there’s a drought and tough ornery patriarch Jacob Dutton (Harrison Ford) isn’t inclined to share his lush pastures with the neighboring sheep farmers led by Banner Creighton (Jerome Flynn). But if in Yellowstone the ranchers occasionally had to abide by the law, here they take advantage of more lawless times and it’s not long before sheep farmers are being lynched. And it’s not long before revenge becomes the order of the day, the various Duttons ambushed in episode three, some so badly you might have believed this was the kind of horror film where you had to guess who lived and died. If Cara is anything to go by, nobody crosses the Duttons, as witnessed in the opening scene where she brutally guns down a fleeing wounded man.

I caught the first three episodes courtesy of British Airways when I was returning on the red eye from a trip to Los Angeles and had enjoyed what I had seen of Yellowstone (catching it on DVD rather than Paramount Plus) so I was looking forward to some slow-burn drama with electrifying acting.

What I got was a mini-series-by-numbers, unlikely development heaped on unlikely development, characters with no room to maneuver and closed-off from any arc and nothing of the freshness of the original. I’m so used to Harrison Ford turning off the charm by now and reverting to his grumpy old man persona and to Helen Mirren going tough that this almost seemed like routine. The two other love duets were just cliché. The white hunter and the English grand dame, and the spoiled rancher’s daughter with little to do but wail about how the cattle that brought her such prosperity were spoiling her life.

I had expected that I would enjoy such a tantalising glimpse of a new series that I’d be obliged to sign up for the streamer the minute I got home. But I think I can just as easily do without.