Paramount+’s Tulsa King detonates its third season on September 21, 2025, a 10-episode thunderclap from Taylor Sheridan—the Yellowstone alchemist who turns turf wars into TV gold—that’s already amassed 21 million global premiere viewers, outpacing Sons of Anarchy’s S1 debut and spiking subs 30%. Sylvester Stallone reprises his Emmy-nominated swagger as Dwight “The General” Manfredi, the silver-haired New York mob capo unceremoniously unloaded in Oklahoma after 25 years in the clink for a murder he didn’t quite mind.
Exiled to Tulsa’s dusty plains to “build something” for his betraying bosses, Dwight’s ragtag crew—weed-whiz Tyson (Jay Will), loyal lieutenant Manny (Max Martini), and fiery fixer Grace (Andrea Savage)—has morphed his pot empire into a protection racket powerhouse, but Season 3’s stakes skyrocket with the arrival of Samuel L. Jackson as Russell Lee Washington Jr., a smooth-talking enforcer from Dwight’s prison past dispatched by the Renzetti family to “take care of business”—code for a hit that could crown him in a NOLA King spinoff. “It’s epic,” fans frenzy on X (4.5 million posts premiere week), “Sopranos with shotguns and Sheridan spice—unputdownable!” Renewed for S4 pre-premiere (announced September 17), it’s Sheridan’s “most explosive triumph,” blending Breaking Bad’s moral mazes with The Godfather’s grudges.
The showdown’s savage: Episode one’s barn-burner opener sees Dwight dodging a drive-by at his strip club, Russell’s velvet menace (“Ghost from the canteen, General?”) slithering in with a bourbon smile and a silenced Beretta. Stallone’s Dwight? A diamond in the dustbowl, his Italian growl grinding grit (“Tulsa’s my town—New York can kiss my ring”), juggling Grace’s glow-up (pregnant with his kid?) and Tyson’s tech tweaks to launder loot.
Jackson’s Russell? A pulp-fiction phantom, his Oscar-nominated snarl (“Ain’t nobody seen that comin’”) oozing danger and double-cross, his multi-episode arc a bridge to NOLA King’s Crescent City carnage. New blood boils: Robert Patrick’s Jeremiah Dunmire, the “Tyrant of Tulsa” oil baron with old-money malice; Kevin Pollak’s Musso, the FBI puppet-master pulling Dwight’s asset strings; Bella Heathcote’s Cleo Montague, a seductive solicitor stirring seduction and sabotage; Beau Knapp’s Cole Dunmire, the heir-apparent hothead; and James Russo’s Quiet Ray Renzetti, the NYC don’s silent storm. Terence Winter (Soprander) and Dave Erickson (Sons) sharpen Sheridan’s script, directors Craig Zisk and Allen Coulter cranking the chaos with dust-choked dust-ups and drone-shot showdowns.
Plot propulsion? Paranoia on the prairie: Dwight’s “empire expands, enemies explode,” from pot raids to rig riggings, as Russell’s “reunion” reeks of regime change—betrayals brewing bourbon bombs, heists hijacking helicopters, a mid-season massacre that makes Sopranos’ Jersey jets look like joyrides. Variety venerates the “propulsive paranoia,” The Hollywood Reporter hails “Stallone’s slyest since Rocky,” Jackson’s “menacing mirth” a “Sopranos* soulmate.” EW dings the “dated drag,” but fans feast: “Bigger than BB—Sheridan’s savage!” Skeptics? “Stallone’s shtick stalls,” but the 1-in-2 heist-to-heartbreak ratio hooks, per Nielsen outgunning Lioness’s launch.
This isn’t mobster mush; it’s a merciless maelstrom, Tulsa King’s Oklahoma odyssey a reminder that exile breeds empires—and enemies. Dwight’s dominion? Daring. Russell’s ruse? Ruthless. September 21? Not a premiere—a prairie powder keg. Binge it; the betrayals blister, the showdowns scorch. Stallone and Jackson? No Sopranos shadows—they’re sun-baked savages, redefining ruthless. Trust us: This kingdom’s conquest? Cataclysmic.
