Peter Berg Shows the Ugly Side of American History With the Frustrating “American Primeval”

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Director Peter Berg‘s works alternate between wholesome American stories and completely unhinged jingoism. Over the past decade, the latter side has come out in films like “Lone Survivor,” “Patriots Day,” and even “Mile 22,” depicting marginalized groups or non-Americans as savages and manipulating viewer affection by killing “noble” heroes. For Berg, it’s America first, and Taylor Kitsch or Mark Wahlberg, depending on the project, second.

Right when it seemed Berg had displayed some variation in diversions like “Spenser Confidential” and “Painkiller,” he’s regressed back with writer/creator Mark L. Smith on the frustratingly repugnant historical Western mini-series “American Primeval.”

In 1857 Utah, Sara Rowell (Betty Gilpin) and her son Devin (Preston Mota) arrive at a trading post, searching for a guide to take them to Cooks Springs, Alabama, to meet up with her husband. Only a few minutes pass before guys whip out their shotguns and graphically kill each other due to miscommunication. After about five people are murdered, Sara finds a guide in a reluctant tracker named Isaac (Taylor Kitsch).

Around the same time, a young Indigenous woman named Two Moons (Shawnee Pourier) flees from her Shoshone tribe after killing a man who attempted to rape her. She stows away on the back of Rowell’s wagon, and, though Devin finds her, he lets her stay.

In a Mormon settler commune at Mountain Meadows, Sara crosses paths with fellow travelers, including a husband-wife duo named Jacob (Dane DeHaan) and Abish (Saura Lightfoot-Leon) Pratt. Instantly, they find themselves in the epicenter of a war between a local militia in hoods and the Paiute Native American tribe. Sara, Isaac, and Devin, and Two Moons, who eventually reveals herself to the group, survive, but there’s been a bounty out for Sara for her troubled past.

The Pratts have it worse: Jacob finds himself barely surviving death and in search of Abish who was taken by the Paiutes. Abish, barely surviving murder by the Paiutes, is traded to the Shoshone, under the leadership of Red Feather (Derek Hinkey), who integrates her into their community. Amidst it all, Brigham Young (Kim Coates), President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and Mormon militia leader, is also looming beyond, trying to persuade his faithful followers to conquer all the spaces along the western trail.

Seth MacFarlane says in “A Million Ways to Die in the West,” “The American West is a disgusting, awful, dirty, dangerous place. Everything out here that’s not you wants to kill you.” That’s the vibe of Berg’s show. The amount of gratuitous murder packed into the first episode feels nearly comical. Every community is depicted as equally savage—in a “bad men on all sides” manner—all conducting many grotesque methods of murder. Berg, who directed all six episodes, reverts to his 2010s self, almost gleefully depicting graphic violence on everyone, including young children, for shock value.

Smith crafts a cruel-natured world operated on sheer aggression with little room for subtlety, as the three main plots take a back seat to the violence. The constant bombardment of gratuitous violence within every other scene affects the pacing and makes one episode feel like a complete chore to stomach. Even Smith’s dialogue tries so hard to be angsty, as many scenes involve people throwing expletives at each other to the extent it feels as if it’s using modern vernacular.

“Primeval” functions best when it centers on the Rowells’ dangerous trek to Alabama. Amid the violence surrounding them, there’s a legitimate, nicely developed dynamic between Gilpin’s Sara and Kitsch’s Isaac. Kitsch is good at illustrating this tough, cold-hearted-but-secretly-kindhearted character drowning in grief but committed to surviving. Gilpin delivers a commendable performance as Sara, a character who displays a chameleon-like display of patience and power to transform into a formidable threat when necessary. She’s also the only character who feels fresh in a sea of familiarity. Despite the predicament of the titular Primeval, Sara is the sole individual who exhibits restraint and humanity. But when needed to lock-in at the height of Devin’s peril, Gilpin’s switch to ferocity is chilling and actually cathartic.

Overall, “American Primeval” plays as if it’s copying a test off a smarter kid but failing anyway. I’m not even much of a Taylor Sheridan fan, but there’s at least a balance between his harsh depiction of America and good character writing. Berg wants people to think this his gory, raw approach is true to history, when in fact it’s a manipulative tale of survival, as tasteless as it is hollow.

All six episodes were watched for review. Now on Netflix.