‘Untamed’ Review: Eric Bana Is Excellent in Netflix’s Moody Yosemite Mystery

Emotional authenticity and character-driven storytelling take precedence over procedural gimmicks in this six-episode miniseries

"Untamed" (Netflix)
Eric Bana in "Untamed." (Netflix)

If you think you’ve seen “Untamed” before, you haven’t.

Sure, it has the familiar ingredients — grief, guilt and a secret buried beneath the pines — but Netflix’s moody mystery miniseries grabs your attention with a grim murder and keeps you hooked as its six episodes unfold, each ending on a cliffhanger that practically dares you not to hit “Next Episode.”

In an era saturated with high-concept thrillers and over-elaborate puzzle boxes, “Untamed” takes a slower, more considered route. Emotional authenticity and character-driven storytelling take precedence over procedural gimmicks or rapid-fire twists.

Oh, and it stars Eric Bana — reminding us why he is one of the great underappreciated talents of his generation.

The story follows Kyle Turner (Bana), a veteran National Parks agent. His carefully maintained sense of order begins to unravel when a new case reopens old wounds. Turner’s journey is as much inward as outward — a reckoning with buried guilt and fractured memory, all set against a wilderness that mirrors his own internal chaos.

The confrontations he has with suspects in and around Yosemite National Park, where he’s stationed, are eventually eclipsed by the one he must have with himself. Caught in his emotional orbit are his ex-wife Jill (Rosemarie DeWitt), commanding officer Paul Souter (Sam Neill) and a close-knit team of rangers, each carrying their own baggage when it comes to Turner.

Bana, consistently excellent for decades, inhabits the role with quiet precision. It’s been almost 20 years since his spellbinding turn at the center of Steven Spielberg’s “Munich” and a quarter-century past his star-making performance in “Chopper.” The added gray in his beard and the weariness in his eyes only deepen his screen presence.

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Rosemarie DeWitt in “Untamed.” (Ricardo Hubbs/Netflix)

Like Bana’s character Aaron Falk in Australia’s “The Dry” films, there’s a weathered gravity to Turner — a sense of restraint that speaks louder than any monologue. He isn’t a man of big speeches, and Bana doesn’t overplay him. That discipline makes the performance land with more impact.

DeWitt is equally strong, playing Jill with the kind of fatigue that comes from having lived through something she never fully escaped. There’s history in every glance, heartbreak in every exchange. But the show resists neat reconciliation or easy sentiment, and the result is a relationship that feels earned, not engineered.

Sam Neill, meanwhile, brings a kind of worn-in authority to Paul Souter. He doesn’t need to raise his voice to command a scene; he just needs to show up. As Kyle’s superior and his unspoken moral compass, Neill leans into quiet dignity. It’s the kind of performance he does best: grounded, generous and all the more affecting because of it.

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Sam Neill in “Untamed.” (Netflix)

Rounding out the cast is Lily Santiago (“La Brea”) as Naya Vasquez, a young ranger recently relocated from the LAPD. Her emotional clarity makes for a strong counterbalance to Kyle’s guardedness. She avoids the usual “rookie with heart” cliché and instead finds something more grounded and believable in the role.

That said, she does have one moment of abject stupidity while chasing a lead — the kind of move that had me muttering “Don’t do it” at the screen. Always a good sign. Always a bad sign.

Created by Mark L. Smith (“The Revenant”) and Elle Smith (both serving as showrunners and executive producers alongside Bana), “Untamed” sits comfortably within the tradition of prestige cable dramas that prize atmosphere and character over plot mechanics. The show moves at its own pace — slow, sure, and confident — trusting the emotional stakes to do the heavy lifting.

The central mystery is constant but never overwhelming. What matters more is how these characters navigate the terrain of regret and memory, revealing old scars even as they’re forming new ones. And though filmed in British Columbia, the series does a convincing job standing in for Yosemite. The natural vistas don’t just add beauty — they lend the show a haunting stillness that underscores the story’s emotional isolation.

Veteran producer John Wells, coming off the watercooler buzz (and multiple Emmy nominations) of “The Pitt” on HBO Max earlier this year, brings his usual strengths to bear here. With assured direction, a cast in top form, and a captivating performance by a leading man at the top of his game, “Untamed” earns your attention the old-fashioned way. Like the landscape it draws from, it’s vast, quietly powerful, and impossible to look away from.

“Untamed” is now streaming on Netflix.

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