Animal Kingdom: Loyalty, Betrayal, and Dysfunction

It took me two tries to finally get into the story, but once I grasped what was going on, I was locked in. Animal Kingdom is gritty, chaotic, and absolutely addictive once it hits its stride.

Smurf has got to be the worst mother in TV history—hands down. Ellen Barkin completely disappears into the role, portraying a mother so diabolically manipulative and selfish that she ruins the lives of everyone around her, including her own children. She’s not just toxic—she’s the root of every downfall in this family, and Barkin nails every bit of it.

The real star of this show, though, is the writing. Across all six seasons, the storytelling remains tight, intense, and consistent. The characters are despicable; you never really root for them, but you can’t look away either. You just need to see how far they’ll go and where they’ll all end up. It’s that kind of show.

One thing I especially appreciated was the casting of the younger versions of the main characters. It’s some of the best I’ve seen on TV. The transitions are seamless—you don’t need names or cues; the performances alone make it clear who’s who. Leila George and Shawn Hatosy are easily the standouts. Jake Weary, while solid overall, doesn’t quite sell his character’s sexuality with the same authenticity.

There’s a moment when a key character dies, and it instantly reminded me of a major death from Succession. You think the show might stumble without them, but instead it tightens its focus and brings the rest of the cast into sharper play. The story gets right to the meat of the bone.

If I had to describe this show, it’s like a mix of Succession and Sons of Anarchy. It takes a while to get into, but once it hooks you, it doesn’t let go.