
About this episode
This episode includes AI-generated content.
Get every episode summarized
Each time Adidas Wilson Matrix publishes, we email you a written briefing from the transcript — the topics, who appeared, and any specific claims, with the ad reads skipped.
Email me new episodesFree for 3 shows. No card needed.
Hosts & guests
Transcript ready
574 searchable segments. Every word is indexed and playable.
Full transcript
Adidas Wilson Matrix — The New Era of the Tulsa King Franchise. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
Imagine like writing the final chapter of a novel, right? You just send it off to the publisher and lock it in completely. Oh, wow, okay. But you do this before anyone has even had a chance to read the very first chapter. You have zero idea if they like the characters or if the pacing works or if the mystery even makes any sense. Yeah, that's wild. Right. You just have to trust your gut and hit print, which I mean, that sounds like a total recipe for a creative disaster, doesn't it? It really does. It honestly sounds like professional sabotage. Yeah. Because you are, well, you're flying completely blind. You're entirely stripped of the one thing creators rely on most. Which is audience feedback, right? Exactly. Yeah. But that incredibly precarious high wire act, that is exactly what the creators of the hit television show Tulsa King are doing right now. Yeah. And they aren't just doing it quietly either. They're betting like hundreds of millions of dollars that they can just rewrite the entire playbook of how television is made. So welcome to the deep dive, whether you're rigorously tracking all the latest shifts in the screaming wars,
or you know, you're just sitting on your couch wondering why your favorite shows take two whole years to put out eight episodes. Today is for you. Absolutely. Because we're getting into the actual mechanics of something totally unprecedented. Right. We are looking at a show that is moving at the velocity of a Silicon Valley startup, which is a fascinating pivot for this industry, honestly. Yeah. I mean, TV traditionally moves at a glacial pace. It really does. So to unpack this, we're looking at a pretty brilliant piece of reporting today from screen wrap. Yeah. There's senior writer Sean Morrison put together this meticulous analysis of the Sylvester Stallone and Taylor Sheridan juggernaut that is Tulsa King. And what makes Morrison like the perfect guide for this isn't just his entertainment journalism background. Right. It's his other work. He actually comes from the world of local politics reporting, which is so interesting. It really is. Yeah. And he's also a self-published Western novelist. That is just such a specific, almost tailor-made resume for analyzing this particular universe. Yeah. I mean, when you think about what Tulsa King actually is beneath the surface,
it's basically this collision of frontier justice, local municipal corruption, and well, East Coast organized crime. Exactly. So Morrison isn't just looking at the flashy Hollywood elements here. No. He understands the rural American power dynamics at play. He sees the gears turning in the municipal zoning boards and like the local dive bars that make the show feel so grounded. Okay. Let's unpack this because here is our mission for you today. We are going to test a theory. Let's do it. We really want to figure out if a television show can survive moving at this brick next speed. Like, can you take a quirky character-driven story, inject it with corporate growth hormones, and just instantly spin it into a sprawling cinematic universe? Right. Without destroying the very soul of what made it popular in the first place. Exactly. Because right now, Tulsa King is sitting at the very peak of the mountain. I mean, since it premiered back in November of 2022, it has essentially taken up permanent residents at the top of the Paramount Plus viewership charts.
Yeah. It is the cornerstone of their whole platform. It is the anchor holding the entire ship in place. Oh, yeah. And understand how they are trying to expand that anchor into an entire fleet. We really have to look at the immediate road ahead. Okay. We need to dissect the upcoming season, track the surprising new territories they are aggressively expanding into. And finally, investigate this behind the scenes gamble that breaks almost every foundational rule of television production. All right. So let's start with the immediate horizon because the pressure is seriously on. Friday, October 16th. The big day. The big day, that is the premiere of season four. And if you've seen the trailer, it is so clear they are escalating the stakes significantly here. Well, massively. They are promising a much wider scope. Yeah, we're seeing teases of like heavily coordinated gunfights, the expansion into entirely new, highly sophisticated rackets for Dwight, you know, the general men Freddie and his crew. But tucked underneath all that pyru Technic marketing, there's a very specific he is.
And then you have Neil McDonough, who just possesses this inherent chilling on screen authority. Oh, Neil McDonough is terrifying always. And then they introduced Frank Grillo as Bill Bevelakwa in season three. Yes, the source material actually highlights this great visual of Grillo, smoking a cigar, holding court on the phone. He just looks every inch, the entrenched, dangerous power broker. Definitely. Add in returning players like Mitch and Cleo, and you have an ecosystem of characters that are strong enough to actually challenge the protagonist. And the audience is entirely bought into this ecosystem too. Completely. When you look at the survey data screen rant gathered about this October 16th premiere, the anticipation is just off the charts. What's fascinating here is just how extreme those numbers are. Right. They asked the fan base how eager they were for season four. And almost every single person pulled just over 97% said they're watching it. The second it becomes available. Which is staggering. It is less than 1% are waiting for reviews.
And barely anyone is planning to just casually catch up later. We really need to pause and synthesize what that metric means. Because in the modern streaming era, that level of urgency is exceptionally rare. Yeah, I mean, think about your own streaming habits. If a new show drops on a Tuesday, you probably tell yourself, oh, I'll get to that this weekend. Or maybe I'll wait until the whole season is out and binge it over Thanksgiving. Exactly. We have been trained to treat television as an on-demand commodity that waits for our convenience. Right. Exactly. The dominant model has really become the long tail binge. But when nearly 98% of your audience is declaring immediate watch intent, you have transcended the background noise category. You've achieved true appointment television. Yes. It generates that water cooler urgency, you know, the feeling that if you don't watch it on Friday night, you're going to be completely left out of the cultural conversation on Monday morning. Yeah. Paramount Plus isn't just retaining subscribers with this show.
They are dictating their subscribers weekend schedules. They absolutely are. It really reminds me of a band dropping their fourth album. Oh, that's a good comparison. By the time you get to album number four, you have a fiercely loyal fan base. They want the greatest hits. Like, they want Stallone in a bespoke suit, delivering a dry, devastating one-liner before punching someone through a glass door. Right. They want the classics. But if you just did them the exact same album they bought three times before they get restless, you have to evolve. But wait, I have to ask you about this end of his reigned teaser in the trailer. Yeah. Are we seriously supposed to believe Stallone might be stepping down? Or is Paramount just playing us? Like, is this just textbook marketing misdirection to guarantee those Friday night ratings spike? It's the multi-million dollar question, isn't it? Well, you really have to weigh the narrative possibilities against the real-world business realities here. Right. Because Stallone is an icon, but he's also, in his late 70s, anchoring a highly physical, demanding television production.
Exactly. Is the network genuinely preparing the narrative groundwork for a post-White Tulsa? Are they building an exit ramp for him? Right. Or as I suggested, are they just artificially inflating the stakes to keep the audience on edge? The source material leaves the reality quite ambiguous on us. But the ambiguity itself is the product right now. Oh, that's a great point. And if you look at the macro movements of the network, the idea that Dwight might be leaving a power of acumen, Oklahoma, suddenly makes perfect sense. Because nature abhors a vacuum. And if the flagship character is stepping aside, or, you know, even just consolidating his power in one specific revier, the network is wasting no time filling the map. Not at all. Which brings us to the franchise expansion. The source article lays out the blueprint for the first official spin-off, and it is a massive, ambitious swing. Yeah, it really is. We are talking about a show called Frisco King. Right. Which interestingly was originally slated to be called Nola King,
set in New Orleans before they recalibrated the geographic focus to Texas. Right, exactly. And they didn't go out and cast some promising up-and-comer to lead this. They went straight to the top of the Hollywood A-list and secured Samuel L. Jackson. Which is just a huge get. Huge. He's reprising his role as Russell Lee Washington Jr. a character the audience met back in season three. Yeah. And the setup is that Jackson's character is heading to Frisco, Texas. And he is essentially utilizing the exact same playbook Dwight used in Oklahoma. Just copy-pasting the strategy? Pretty much. He is going down south to carve out his own independent slice of the organized crime pie. And here's the detail that truly matters, I think. The cameras have already stopped rolling. Right. Filming on Frisco King has wrapped. That's right. This is not some speculative script floating around a boardroom in Los Angeles. It is fully produced in the can and barreling toward a release date. Wow. So the audience will not have to wait years to see this expansion materialized. No, they won't. And if we connect this to the bigger picture,
when you zoom out and look at the strategy, the fingerprints of creator Taylor Sheridan are all over it. Oh, totally. We are watching the Yellowstone playbook being executed in real time. Exactly. Think about what Sheridan did with that universe. He took a popular core show. And instead of just making standard sequels, he started dropping universally beloved legacy movie stars into distinct, geographically separated locations within the same thematic universe. Right. He got Harrison Ford and Helen Marin for one spin off. Tim McGrath for another. Yes. And now he's taking Samuel L. Jackson and giving him his own fiefdom in Texas. It is industrial scale franchise building. It really is that the term we use in the industry for this is IP monopolization, intellectual property monopolization. Yep. That's exactly what it is. From a platform perspective, Paramount isn't just trying to sell you a single entertaining hour of television on a Friday night. They are trying to build an entirely closed, self-staining ecosystem. Right. They want to ensure that whenever you have a craving for this specific genre,
that blend of neo-western aesthetics and gritty crime drama, you never have to open a competing app like Netflix or Max. Yeah. You just move to a different room in the house that Sheridan built. And the fans are already lining up at the door for this new room. They really are. The poll data for Frisco King is wildly encouraging for the network. Nearly three quarters of the Tulsa King audience explicitly stated they're highly likely to follow Jackson to this new show. That's a huge conversion rate. Right. Almost 73%. Another significant chunk about 12% said they're somewhat likely, meaning they'd check it out if the buzz is good. And what about the people who said no? Barely anyone. Only 4% said they were unlikely to watch it and 11% were uncertain. So hardly anyone is refusing to watch just because Stallone isn't the lead. That data point is vital. It proves that the audience loyalty has successfully transferred from the lead actor to the overarching tone of the universe itself. It makes sense. I mean, I look at it like franchising a Michelin star restaurant.
Okay. I like that analogy. You have your flagship location in Tulsa, right? It's incredibly successful. Everyone loves the vibe. Now, you decide to open a second location in Texas. You can definitely replicate the menu. You can hire the same writers to deliver that specific blend of dark comedy and mob violence. But can you replicate the chef? That's the challenge. Because Stallone's weary, physical out of time charisma is the secret ingredient. Which really makes me wonder, isn't putting a Titan like Samuel L. Jackson in the sister show? Incredibly risky. How you mean? Well, if Jackson brings his trademark kinetic explosive energy to Frisco King and the show is a runaway hit, does it risk overshadowing the original? Can two sons exist in the solar system without cannibalizing each other's gravity? That is the inherent danger of the cinematic universe model. Absolutely. You are always balancing synergy against cannibalization. Right. Stallone's performance relies on a certain stoicism. He is the immovable object reacting to a chaotic world.
Yeah. Jackson's screen presence is entirely different. He's usually the unstoppable force creating the chaos. Oh, that's true. So the risk that Frisco King might make the flagship show feel a bit slower or more traditional is very real. Okay, so they should be worried. Well, maybe not. Historical data from similar television expansions suggests that a rising tide generally lifts all boats. A viewer who maybe never connected with Stallone might tune in specifically for Samuel L. Jackson. Ah, I see. And once they're hooked on the world, they're highly likely to go back and binge the original series just to understand the foundational lore. Yeah, that makes sense. It is a brilliant funnel for subscriber acquisition. It really is. But keeping that funnel full requires feeding the beast constantly. And that leads us to the operational logistics that are genuinely blowing my mind. Yeah, this part is wild. We mentioned earlier that Frisco King is already in the can. But that is just the tip of the iceberg regarding the sheer velocity of this production pipeline.
The writer's room for season five of Tulsi King as reportedly already opened. Which is staggering when you map it against a traditional television calendar. It's insane. Here's where it gets really interesting. Season four hasn't aired a single frame yet. We are weeks away from the October 16th premiere. And yet the writers are already sitting in a room, breaking the narrative arcs for a fifth season. Think about how much things have accelerated. Between season one and season two, fans had to endure a grueling two-year hiatus. Yeah, they took a really long break. The creators took their time. They let the dust settle. They analyzed what worked. Now they're sprinting full speed ahead. We really need to explore why a network would authorize that kind of velocity. Because it isn't just a creative whim. No, definitely not. Greenlighting and funding a writer's room before the preceding season even airs is a massive financial commitment. It tells us two things. First, their internal predictive algorithms and subscriber retention models are flashing bright green.
They know it's a hit. They know this show as a temple. Second, it is a defensive maneuver. In the current streaming landscape, if you lose momentum, you lose subscribers. Oh, of the churn. Exactly. The churn rate, the rate at which people cancel their subscriptions after finishing a show, is the metric that keeps screaming executives awake at night. By accelerating production, they're trying to shrink the gap between seasons so dramatically. You never even have a reason to hit cancel. But practically speaking, how does a writer's room even function under those conditions? It's tough. It feels like trying to lay down railroad tracks while the train is already moving at a hundred miles per hour. They are mapping out the emotional fallout of season four without knowing how the audience actually reacted to season four. It requires an unbelievable level of creative confidence, really bordering on hubris. Yeah. Because a traditional writer's room relies heavily on a postseason autopsy. They look at social media. They read critical reviews. They monitor which minor characters unexpectedly popped with the audience.
Right. Like if the fans unexpectedly fell in love with the background henchmen in season two, the writers elevate that character to the main cast in season three. Exactly. That organic evolution is how shows find their rhythm. By opening the season five room now, Charence Winter and Taylor Sheridan are operating in a sealed vacuum. Hold on, I have to challenge the wisdom of that approach. That's cool. I get the business imperative, you know, locking in actor contracts and preventing subscriber churn. But doesn't this inherently prioritize volume over bespoke quality? That's a fair question. Like the reason that two year gap between the first two seasons worked was because it allowed the show to discover its own identity. It earned its high ratings on rotten tomatoes because it was carefully crafted. Right. So if you are just churning out scripts on an assembly line to meet a corporate mandate, aren't you risting a massive drop in the actual writing quality? It is the eternal friction between art and commerce. Sheridan and Winter are elite veterans of the industry.
You know, they have a legendary creative instinct. Sure, they're brilliant. But even the sharpest instincts can become dull if they are isolated from cultural feedback. Right. If a major shocking plot twist in season four falls flat, say, a character death feels unearned or a new villain comes across as cartoonish, the audience will reject it. And then what? Well, in a normal timeline, the writers could scramble and course correct for the next season. But in this accelerated playpline, the season five scripts are already locked, dealing with the fallout of a storyline, the audience is already rejected. Wow, so it's a domino effect of creative miscalculation. Exactly. And while those writers are sitting in that vacuum trying to predict the future, they are simultaneously trying to manage the biggest creative hurdle of the entire series. Yeah, this is the really wild part. Because the most shocking revelation in the screen ramp piece isn't the timeline, and it isn't the spin-offs. It is a fundamental shift in geography that threatens to rewrite the entire DNA of the show.
Yes, the physical production map of this show tells a story all on its own. You need to talk about the locations. Let's trace it because it's fascinating. Season one was famously shot on location in Oklahoma. Right. And you could feel it, right? That the wide, dusty horizons, the brutalist Midwestern architecture, the sheer physical isolation of the setting, it gave the show an incredible authenticity. It really did. Then, for subsequent filming, they shifted primary production over to Atlanta, Georgia. Now Atlanta is a massive hub with incredible studio infrastructure, so they were essentially using it to double for the Midwest. Which is pretty standard industry practice to save money. Right. But Sean Morrison's article reveals that for this upcoming season five, production is expected to move entirely to New York. And this is where Morrison's analytical lens is crucial. He notes that the production isn't just chasing the best tax incentives, which is usually why shows bounce from state to state. Yeah. He points out that this move is being driven heavily by,
quote, creative choices. Wow. When a television show uproots its entire logistical footprint and moves across the country to serve the narrative, you're looking at a seismic pivot in the story. Seriously. And Morrison lays out some compelling speculation on what this means for Dwight. If the show is physically relocating to New York, the character is obviously returning to his roots. Right. Maybe he is going back to challenge the East Coast bosses on their own turf and reclaim his old empire. Maybe the narrative is shifting inwards, focusing on him finally trying to repair the deep fractures with his estranged family. Or perhaps he is evolving into a more insulated managerial figure, you know, pulling the strings from a high rise in Manhattan while his loyal lieutenants fight the ground war down south. Those are all fascinating narrative avenues for sure. But they all carry a profound structural risk. They do. We have to strip Tulsa King down to its studs and look at the foundation here. At its core, this show is a classic fish out of water narrative.
Yes, exactly. The entire engine of the comedy in the drama is fueled by friction. You take an immaculate, the spokes suited old school mafia enforcer who operates by rigid unspoken rules. Yeah. And you drop him into the rural, strip mall chaotic reality of Middle America. It's the Beverly Hillbilly's in reverse. That's a perfect way to put it. The setting isn't just a painted backdrop. It is an active antagonistic character in the story. Right. When Dwight walks into a legalized hipster weed dispensary in Tulsa and tries to aggressively shake them down using 1980s mob tactics, it is inherently hilarious because the context is wrong. Yeah, the environment is basically the straight man to his aggression. Exactly. So if you abandoned Tulsa, you were abandoning the foundational premise that made the show a hit. But wait, let's look at the numbers because the audience data might completely invalidate Morrison's concern here. Okay, let's see it. Screen rant actually pulled the viewers on this exact psychological hook. They asked, what is the primary reason you tune in to watch this show?
The breakdown is fascinating. What did they find? Just over 40%, 40.9% to be exact, said they watched purely for Sylvester Stallone's performance and character. Okay. Roughly 25% watch for the specific tonal blend of crime and dark comedy. About 21% are tuning in for Taylor Sheridan's signature storytelling style. I'm the rest. Less than 8% watch just because it's on the platform. And barely 5.5% care about the expanding ensemble cast or new characters. Those numbers paint a very clear picture of viewer loyalty. Right. So what does this all mean? If we synthesize that data, almost half the audience is just showing up to watch Stallone be Stallone. Yeah. And another quarter is there for the vibe the banter mixed with the violence. So if nearly 70% of your audience is loyal to the actor and the tone, does the zip code actually matter? That's a good point. As long as Dwight is wearing the sharp suits, delivering the deadpan threats, and solving problems with extreme prejudice, couldn't the show thrive just as easily on the crowded streets of Brooklyn
as it did on the plains of Oklahoma? This raises an important question, though. It's a very compelling counter argument, but it's about genre mechanics. Yes, the audience is showing up for Stallone. But Stallone's brilliant, nuanced performance is a reaction to his environment. OK. Right. The comedy only works because he is the smartest, most dangerous guy in a town that doesn't understand his rules. If you put Dwight back in New York, surrounded by hundreds of other New York mobsters who dress like him, talk like him, and operate by the exact same rules, does the uniqueness vanish? Oh, wow. Yeah. Does Tulsa King just devolve into a generic, slightly older mob drama? If he's just shaking down a Brooklyn construction site, we aren't watching a unique culture clash anymore. We're just watching a lesser imitation of a Scorsese film. Exactly. Yeah. If you remove the contrast, you risk flatlining the tone entirely. That is a phenomenal insight. The comedy relies on him being the alien on a new planet. If you send the alien back to his home world,
he's just a regular guy. Completely. And as we trace this incredible roadmap, leave unpack today, it becomes remarkably clear that this franchise is standing at a critical crossroads. It really is. I mean, think about the sheer distance this production is attempting to cover. We are bracing for the high stakes premiere of season four on October 16th, where the protagonist's very reign is in jeopardy. Right. We are tracking a massive, aggressive, southward expansion, planting a flag in Texas with a heavyweight like Samuel L. Jackson. We are witnessing the unprecedented, almost reckless velocity of a writer's room, mapping out season five in a total vacuum. And finally, we are watching them gamble with a very DNA of the show by plotting a return to the concrete jungle of New York. It perfectly illustrates the immense crushing pressure that creators face in the modern streaming era. It's got to be stressful. Oh, absolutely. You are handed a mandate from corporate executives. Capitalize on the hit, scale it up,
build an inescapable universe, and do it faster than the audience can cancel their subscriptions. Right. But simultaneously, you have to protect the fragile lightning and a bottle magic that made people love the show on day one. Which is so hard to do. It is. If you move too slowly, the algorithm forgets you and the audience moves on. If you expand too fast, or if you strip away the core premise by changing locations, the foundation buckles and the whole skyscraper comes down. It's an architectural high-wire act. And honestly, it leaves me with one final lingering thought for you to mull over. Look at the grand chess board that Taylor Sheridan and Paramount are setting up here, based purely on the trajectories we've traced today. Okay. What are you thinking? If Dwightman Freyde successfully returns to New York to consolidate his power and reign as a major East Coast boss. And meanwhile, Samuel L. Jackson successfully establishes a massive rural Southern crime syndicate down in Frisco, Texas. I would see where you're going with this. Is the network quietly laying the track for a massive Avenger-style collision?
Wow. Are they methodically building a future where these two Titanic distinct crime families eventually bump into each other and have to go to war over the entire American landscape? That would be unbelievable. I don't know about you, but that is a turf war I would absolutely take to see. Same here. Thank you so much for joining us on this deep dive. Set your calendars for October 16th. And let's see how this new era officially begins.
More episodes
More from Adidas Wilson Matrix

‘Landman’ Season 3 Casts ‘Lioness’ Star Michael Kelly
Adidas Wilson Matrix

Star Trek Rewrites Captain Kirk's Backstory For Its 60th Anniversary
Adidas Wilson Matrix

How Steven Spielberg Influenced 5-Season Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Thriller
Adidas Wilson Matrix

How to Stream The Drop: A Snowfall Saga Spinoff
Adidas Wilson Matrix