Since 2012, Dick Wolf, the powerhouse producer, has cultivated a franchise originally launched by “Chicago Fire,” expanding it into a sprawling universe of procedural dramas on NBC, each with its own evening slot. Meanwhile, CBS has introduced its own firefighting series, “Fire Country” (currently heading into its fourth season), seemingly mirroring the successful formula of first-responder shows. This week marks the debut of a spinoff titled “Sheriff Country”; should it gain traction, we can anticipate potential offshoots like “Med Country” and “Justice Country” to follow soon after.
However, any triumph that “Sheriff Country,” brought to life by Matt Lopez (notably behind the “Father of the Bride” remake) and executive-produced by the renowned Jerry Bruckheimer, might experience will likely not be attributed to its own merits. Beginning with its confusing title — a place known as “Fire Country” centers around wildfires; does “Sheriff Country” revolve around sheriff-related activities? — and declining from there, the show presents itself as a bland and lackluster exploration of small-town law enforcement. The premise is further undermined by its shared setting with “Fire Country”, although a majority of the characters are entirely new. (Cameos from Max Thieriot and Diane Farr, starring in “Fire Country,” appear, while some characters made prior appearances through the flagship series via a backdoor pilot.) The narrative continues to decline over the four episodes previewed for critics.
Morena Baccarin, an accomplished actress who has showcased her talents much better in other roles, plays Mickey Fox, the acting head of the county police force, connected to the Leones from “Fire Country” through a previous marriage. Mickey finds herself in a tense situation where she successfully diffuses a standoff between two brothers aiming to harm each other with guns drawn. This odd blend of dramatic tension and clumsily attempted humor fails to improve throughout the season. One brother’s getup, featuring a suity look and a ponytail reminiscent of John Travolta in “Pulp Fiction,” introduces a slew of antagonists that come off as cartoonish, like a crew of marijuana cultivators who exploit college students through drugging and enslavement. (This choice seems outdated given the current billion-dollar cannabis market!) If the intention behind the series is to depict a close-knit community, the villains introduced each week contradict that aim.
Mickey, currently serving as acting sheriff, has yet to be officially elected, having taken over from her former superior. Her campaign faces additional challenges due to her conflicts with daughter Skye (Amanda Arcuri), a recovering addict entangled with a negatively influencing boyfriend, and father Wes (W. Earl Brown), an ex-con enlisted as “the patron saint of Edgewater outlaws.” The plot thickens when Skye uncovers her boyfriend’s lifeless body, triggering deeper storylines in “Sheriff Country” that occupy the narrative between various local criminal exploits—including armed robberies and abuse cases. Strangely, this overarching plot wraps up rather swiftly, leaving a vast expanse of unresolved plotlines for the remaining season. Skye lacks any significant traits other than her tumultuous background and a talent for making poor choices, particularly as investigations into her boyfriend’s demise take shape. Meanwhile, the stark contrast between the rebellious, authority-defying Wes and his daughter’s career is drawn clumsily; Mickey even laments Wes’s “bad ass reputation” and, in a moment of frustration, abruptly hurls an object at him, rendering the emotional weight virtually nonexistent.
In her attempts to prove her worth to the voters of Edgewater, Mickey frequently voices her love for “this town” and its residents. (Examples include: “It’s not about me or you. It’s about this town!”; “I thought this town knew me”; “That’s your problem, Mickey—you’re too close to this town.”) Yet, “Sheriff Country” struggles to evoke that same fondness from viewers. A subplot addressing the opioid crisis feels more like a conditioned requirement for contemporary narratives about working-class America than a genuine focus, and neither Mickey nor her deputies Cassidy (Michele Weaver) and Boone (Matt Lauria) emerge as memorable characters among the gallery of law enforcement figures seen previously on television. If “Fire Country” truly holds the potential to blossom into an expansive franchise, the elements are certainly not highlighted in this series.
“Sheriff Country” will premiere on CBS and Paramount+ at 9 p.m. ET, with follow-up episodes set to air on Fridays at 8 p.m. ET.
