Tulsa King Recap: Live, Laugh, Lummox

As a seasoned cinephile with decades of movie-watching under my belt, I must say that “Tulsa King” has certainly found its niche in the ever-expanding landscape of television. The character of Dwight Manfredi, portrayed masterfully by Sylvester Stallone, is a breath of fresh air in the world of organized crime bosses – he’s charming, lovable, and seemingly incapable of keeping a straight face.


Dwight Manfredi, affectionately known as “The General,” is always seen sporting a smile. Despite his 25-year prison sentence, strained relationship with his boss, and impending trial, he manages to maintain an upbeat demeanor. In this week’s episode of Tulsa King, most of Dwight’s pleasant interactions result in a broad grin from him, causing Sylvester Stallone’s rugged face to appear surprisingly rosy, frequently accompanied by a sly laugh.

Apart from everyone else, even his daughter Tina, sister Joanne (Annabella Sciorra), and his diverse group of people across generations find him endearing. When Dwight’s around, they can hardly contain their smiles and laughter. During Jelly Roll’s extended appearance as a contemporary country singer, director Craig Zisk seems uneasy while filming his interaction with Dwight, instead choosing to focus on the soldiers who are grinning and chuckling at their boss’s antics. Close-ups of various crew members further emphasize that Dwight is quite lovable, a fact that’s hard to miss in this unsubtle show – and one you likely already know.

Although widely regarded as the kindest and most orderly crime boss on modern television, Dwight has managed to garner quite a few adversaries. On the legal front, Cal Thresher, a formidable competitor in the weed business, persistently creates problems for the General by requesting help from U.S. Attorney Denny McGrath (Paden Fallis), who consents to personally handle the case against Dwight.

Despite his sister’s move to Tulsa, bringing more Annabella Sciorra onto the show, Dwight decides to handle his own trial proceedings. His legal knowledge is self-acquired, much like everything else in Dwight’s life. I find it quite remarkable that this unconventional approach could yield impressive results, just as Dwight’s methods often do. Even Bodhi’s suggestion of choosing middle-aged widows or divorcées for the jury, based on their assumed empathy towards Dwight’s romantic tale, hints at his belief that Dwight’s personal life and jury pool should overlap.

In my role as a follower, I’m seeing the benefits of Thresher’s call to Bill Bevilacqua unfold. Bill, in response, voices his concerns about Chickie Invernizzi’s encroachment on Kansas City’s territory to New York. Seizing this potential advantage, Chickie seems inclined to ally with Bevilacqua in eliminating Dwight’s group from Tulsa. He even extends an offer to Goodie, a former underboss from the New York outfit who recently defected, inviting him to switch sides once more. (He’s considering it.)

Alongside his more serious issues, Dwight also faces some less life-threatening complications. The paparazzi and federal agents are incessantly following him at his luxury hotel, making him frequently change his temporary residences. This results in an amusing scene where Dwight is seen donning Tyson’s attire in Tyson’s young sister’s bedroom, surrounded by stuffed animals and posters of Beyoncé and Rihanna on the walls – a perfect example of how to fully commit to a fish-out-of-water joke.

In my perspective, this recent living setup certainly doesn’t mesh well with my personal preferences, given it’s been a subject of ongoing critique and disapproval from my son Tyson’s father, Mark (Michael Beach). Despite working as a plumber by profession, he might have teamed up with me and the crew in our initial skirmish against that notorious biker gang way back in season one. However, it was to help his son, not to endorse his career path.

Alongside Dwight and Tyson, they encounter difficulties when attempting to acquire a colossal loan for buying a troubled wind farm from a former inmate with white-collar convictions. The bank can’t legally lend Dwight more than half the required amount without excessive documentation that might not be enough due to his previous record.

However, a potential business venture could be on the horizon. When the gang steals Donnie Shore’s (Steve Witting) catalytic converters, they essentially sell them back to him in exchange for free cars and “protection.” Donnie, portrayed brilliantly by Witting, shows a flicker of realization when he hears the word “protection” from Dwight Manfredi. Later, when Mitch returns with some of the stolen converters, he also proposes a tentative deal to purchase the dealership. To understand why car dealers are attractive to shady individuals like those from New York, simply look at Donald Trump’s donor records for insights into their earnings.

Tulsa King is a series that’s hard to stay angry with, although it does make some obvious gestures towards conservative viewers in the Taylor Sheridan/Sylvester Stallone fanbase – like a subtle joke involving pronouns in the early seasons, and Dwight expressing his preference for gas despite investing in a wind farm. If you choose to overlook these, I can understand why.

It’s important to note that just because a character in a show, such as Tulsa King, expresses certain views or actions doesn’t automatically imply the show is endorsing them entirely. However, it can be challenging to find instances where the show deliberately distances us from Dwight Manfredi’s perspective. One possible example might be if the show consistently presents Dwight’s kills as impersonal or necessary, rather than glorifying them. Similarly, the portrayal of his relationships with women could involve depth and complexity beyond mere physical attraction, suggesting a more nuanced view of these connections. Lastly, the show might occasionally depict Dwight in situations where he’s not always smiling or jovial, revealing a more complex emotional range that contradicts the image of him as perpetually cheerful.

Despite occasional instances of outdated behavior that are somewhat bothersome, the dialogue in this show, penned by Stephen Scaia and lead writer Terence Winter, often falls flat. For instance, Bill Bevilacqua says, “Trespassing sounds like a simple word, but it’s bad,” which feels more like something thought up rather than an actual insight. Furthermore, when Dwight delivers a speech about bank loans to Thomas Edison, it seems reminiscent of Belushi ranting at Delta House about America’s resilience following the bombing of Pearl Harbor. However, unlike Bluto Blutarsky, we are not intended to laugh at Dwight Manfredi.

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2024-09-22 17:54