Untamed Review: Wilderness Wasted

Yosemite’s beauty and strong leads lift this six-episode mystery on Netflix, even if the plot of Untamed never strays from the beaten path.

If only the series had lived up to its title and been bold enough to embrace something more feral and genuinely wild with its storytelling.

Kyle Turner (Eric Bana, Memoir of a Snail) patrols Yosemite’s granite heights and dense forests for the National Parks Service’s Investigative Services Branch. With more than a decade on the job, his badge says “lawman,” but his haunted expression screams “survivor.” Scars of personal trauma from imposing justice on the wilderness haunt the agent to the point where, when we first meet him, he’s considering ending it all in one of Yosemite’s glass-still lakes. However, the park isn’t done with him yet.

When a woman’s body is discovered at the iconic rock formation El Capitan, what initially appears to be a tragic accident quickly reveals itself as something more sinister. Paired with eager forest ranger Naya Vasquez (Lily Santiago), a former LAPD cop seeking solace and safety for her four-year-old, the two work to identify the woman and track her movements through the park. Looks can be deceiving, though, and the deeper Turner and Vasquez dig, the more bones of the past are uncovered, tying back to events involving Turner and his ex-wife, Jill (Rosemarie DeWitt, Smile 2).

The premiere episode has you gripping your couch throughout. Unlike many series, there isn’t a need to do an info dump immediately. Benefitting enormously from its breathtaking Yosemite setting, the opening sequence alone will challenge anyone with a fear of heights. In later episodes, confined spaces like abandoned mines and small shacks with only one entrance provide genuinely pulse-quickening moments. Directors Thomas Bezucha, Nick Murphy, and Neasa Hardiman each helm two episodes, showcasing the park’s natural beauty and inherent dangers with impressive skill. When Untamed leans into its environmental advantages, it succeeds in creating an atmosphere that feels both majestic and menacing—every towering sequoia and star-studded sky pulses with life. You can practically taste the moss and hear pine needles crackle underfoot.

Then the show reins in the wild. The excitement of the opening retreats into disappointingly safe territory. Plot threads unspool with workmanlike functionality—Turner’s strained calls to ex-wife Jill, Vasquez’s battles as a single mom dealing with an abusive ex, Wildlife Officer Shane Maguire’s (Wilson Bethel, Inherent Vice) stoic isolation—but none are woven into anything we haven’t seen countless times before.

What could have been a compelling four-episode limited series gets stretched to six episodes, padding runtime with underdeveloped plot threads that might have thrived in a more condensed format. Turner and Jill’s family trauma becomes a “Big Secret” that bursts out in a single cathartic confession near the finale, coming off like a quick on-set solution rather than a carefully plotted reveal. Each cliffhanging nailbiter delivers a last-second rescue, which becomes almost cartoonish in its nick-of-time precision. It’s effective once, but by episode six it feels like too precise clockwork.

The show’s other strength lies in performances that deliver within the constraints of their material. Bana lets Turner’s guilt bleed into every furrow of his brow, bringing weathered weight to a man clearly haunted by unspecified trauma. Santiago‘s earnestness is applied in just the right amount not to make her character cloying. Vasquez wants to stand out for the right reasons, and you want to root for her from the start. Together, Bana and Santiago’s evolving buddy chemistry is the tether that holds the mystery afloat. Sam Neill (Jurassic Park) brings a grandfatherly steadiness as Chief Ranger Paul Souter, a calming presence amid the rough terrain.

Also worth noting are several standouts across the series. Marilyn Norry’s (Jennifer’s Body) Glory is a defiant park squatter whose scorching monologue in Episode 3 cuts deeper than any procedural twist. Raoul Max Trujillo (Blue Beetle) grounds Turner’s hunt in Indigenous lore, reminding us that every breeze carries an ancient whisper with it. Finally, Hilary Jardine shines in the final episode in a seemingly simple scene, providing crucial information. It’s not a flashy performance or sequence, but Jardine’s performance lingers anyway.

The resolution seemed glaringly obvious from the start, undermined by scripting that seems aware of episodic television’s limitations. The filmmakers introduce plot elements that must be resolved within the same episode, never allowing storylines to simmer or develop organically. Santiago’s domestic disturbances feel entirely disconnected from the main narrative—her entire subplot could be removed without significant consequence. 

Initially, DeWitt gives Jill an exasperated warmth that we believe is due to the history she shares with her ex-husband. However, writers Mark L. Smith (Twisters) and Elle Smith (The Marsh King’s Daughter) pivot her character to go somewhere that isn’t developed enough to make narrative sense, and eventually use Jill as a tool to smooth the rough edges of their script. She exists only to complete exposition and be acted upon, which is disappointing considering how good of an actress DeWitt is.

Untamed represents a missed opportunity to explore the psychological complexity that should naturally emerge from setting a murder mystery within America’s wilderness. The national park location offers countless possibilities for uncovering dark secrets, yet the series employs a disappointingly simple retread of family drama wrapped in procedural elements. Despite its lush scenery, Untamed feels tethered by its desire to tie up every loose end. 

When the show detours off the beaten path, you glimpse what it could have been: a taut, character-driven thriller that makes the forest as dangerous as any killer. By the time the credits roll, Untamed feels like a six-hour postcard from Yosemite’s darker corners—beautiful to behold, reliably entertaining, but yearning for more feral storytelling that truly embraces the wild.

Untamed is now available to stream globally on Netflix.