Even when you close your eyes, you can feel the difference between the two worlds in “The Madison.”
When Michelle Pfeiffer’s Stacy Clyburn returns to New York City after spending a week in Montana, even after she closes the door to her massive and meticulously appointed townhouse, the steadily invasive sounds of the city bleed through. Traffic, sirens, noise. Contrast that with the family’s isolated spread in Big Sky Country, where the ambience is all about the coffee percolating, the rippling waters, the winds swirling outside, and the creatures rustling in the distance.
It’s Madison Avenue vs. the Madison River—and seeing as how Taylor Sheridan (of “Yellowstone” and “Landman” and everything else fame) is the creator of this six-part Paramount+ series, you know the deck is going to be heavily stacked in favor of the neo-Western way of life. Most of the denizens of New York City are depicted as shallow, neurotic, espresso-martini-sipping narcissists, whereas the good folks in small-town Montana are family-oriented, horse-riding, beer-drinking, nature-loving good neighbors who wince when you cuss, give you a ride if you’re stranded—and send over a cooler filled with homemade dishes because your family is in crisis and isn’t equipped to go shopping or cooking right now.
As for the Clyburn clan at the center of this warm-hearted, sun-dappled, confidently paced drama—they’re a complicated bunch, and their lives are messy, and they’ve been rocked to the core by a devastating tragedy. In other words, they’re a family. This is Sheridan’s quietest, most dialogue-driven work to date, worlds away from the violence and body count in series such as “Yellowstone” and “Tulsa King.” Only a few punches are thrown—and in each case, it’s women who are hauling off and clocking someone. Still, “The Madison” packs a powerful emotional wallop, with Pfeiffer in particular having to carry the heaviest load—and reminding us why she’s been one of the best all these years.
Some 37 years after Pfeiffer and Kurt Russell starred (along with Mel Gibson) in Robert Towne’s brilliant and unfairly forgotten L.A. noir “Tequila Sunrise,” the pair are reunited as Stacy and Preston Clyburn, who have been married for nearly four decades but are still deeply, hopelessly in love with one another. There’s genuine throwback movie-star power in what they bring to their roles, and it’s a rare and wonderful thing to see a series centered on an older couple whose love affair burns bright.
Preston has built a fortune via some vaguely defined financial empire, and he and Stacy have raised their family in the city. But he periodically heads west to Montana to spend time with his brother Paul (an excellent Matthew Fox), who escaped the rat race 20 years ago and has been living in one of the two cabins he and Preston built on an idyllic patch of land near the Madison River in southwest Montana. For a few precious days every now and again, Preston and Paul spend time fly-fishing for trout, sipping whiskey, soaking in the scenery, and closing out the night on the porch, talking about the relentlessness of one’s life clock. Despite Preston’s repeated invitations, Stacy, a self-described “city mouse,” has zero interest in spending time in a place where the bathroom is an outhouse—but she and Preston still connect every day and night on the phone, and it’s a testament to Sheridan’s writing and the subtle skills of Russell and Pfeiffer that the love story shines through even when Preston and Stacy are 2,000 miles apart.
The Clyburns have never denied their two daughters anything, but that hasn’t always been the best for the girls. Abby (Beau Garrett) is a recently divorced mother of two with no direction in life and a heavy chip on her shoulder, while Paige (Elle Chapman) is 26, married, and works at an event-planning public relations firm, but she often acts like a petulant teenager. (Abby’s daughters are the teenage Bridget, well played by Amiah Miller, and an obligatory precocious 11-year-old named Macy, played by the adorable Alaina Pollock.)
After a seismic family event, the Clyburns have to spend some time at the Montana property, which none of them save Preston, has ever visited before. Cue the predictable sight gags about snakes and a hornet’s nest and bear spray, with Paige’s hapless but caring husband Russell (Patrick J. Adams) often caught in comedic situations, usually while wearing his pajamas. Kevin Zegers adds down-home charm as the Clyburns’ neighbor in Montana, Cade Harris, while Ben Schnetzer gives an aw-shucks, smoke-show performance as Van Davis, a handsome and kindly sheriff’s deputy who was widowed a few years back.
With Christina Alexander Voros directing and also handling cinematography, “The Madison” is filled with spectacular, autumnal visuals in the Montana sequences. Every sunrise and sunset is an opportunity, and Voros never misses. (The New York City sequences were actually filmed in Dallas and Fort Worth, meaning we get cookie-cutter establishing skyline shots of Manhattan—and lots of closeups and medium shots of characters getting in and out of cars, entering buildings, hailing cabs. It’s not particularly effective.)
Season 1 of “The Madison” ends with things really just beginning—and Russell has confirmed Season 2 was filmed back-to-back with Season 1, so there’s more to come. Like just about everything Taylor Sheridan touches, it will likely go on for as long as Sheridan and the outstanding ensemble are ready, able, and willing. It’s rock-solid, gripping television with multi-generational appeal.
All six episodes of “The Madison” were screened for review.