Sly Stallone’s ‘Tulsa King’ Gets Brutally Cancelled, Fans Have Feelings (And They’re Not Good Ones)
LOS ANGELES – In a move that has shocked absolutely no one who has ever watched a premium cable drama get the axe after a perfectly serviceable second season, Paramount+ has officially pulled the plug on Sylvester Stallone’s mobster dramedy, *Tulsa King*. The show, which saw the 78-year-old action legend trade in his rocket launcher for a pair of reading glasses and a cheap suit, won't be seeing a Season 3. And let me tell you, the internet is doing what the internet does best: screaming into the void, posting thirst traps of a septuagenarian, and pretending this was a travesty on par with the JFK assassination.
Let’s be real for a second. Was *Tulsa King* good? It was... fine. It was the TV equivalent of a microwave burrito: warm, vaguely satisfying, and you know you’re going to regret it in a few hours. Stallone plays Dwight Manfredi, a New York mob capo who gets out of prison after 25 years and is exiled to Tulsa, Oklahoma, to set up shop. The premise is essentially "what if Rocky became a gangster and moved to a flyover state?" It was a vehicle for Sly to do his signature squint, drop some grizzled one-liners, and occasionally punch a guy half his age. It was comfort food for anyone who misses the days when action heroes didn't need a stunt double just to walk up a flight of stairs.
But here’s the thing: Paramount+ is a streaming service that has the retention strategy of a goldfish with ADHD. They greenlit a show, gave it a solid budget, let Stallone do his thing, and then, right as it was finding its footing, they hit the kill switch. Why? Who knows. Maybe the algorithm didn't like the color of the lead actor's sweatpants. Maybe the execs realized they spent all their money on a *Star Trek* spin-off that nobody asked for. Or, most likely, they looked at the viewership numbers and decided that the 55+ demo that actually tunes in for Stallone isn't buying enough Paramount+ subscriptions to justify the cost of Sly's assistant's latte budget.
The cancellation news broke, and the reaction was a beautiful, chaotic mix of genuine sadness and peak internet irony. Twitter, or X, or whatever we’re calling the hellscape now, was flooded with takes. Some fans were genuinely devastated. "This is a crime worse than anything Dwight Manfredi ever committed," one user posted, accompanied by a grainy photo of Stallone looking pensive. Others were just there for the memes. There were jokes about Stallone now having to go back to making direct-to-VOD action flicks where he fights a computer-generated grizzly bear. There were references to his rival, Arnold Schwarzenegger, who just got his own show on Netflix. It’s the streaming version of a geriatric rap battle, and honestly, it’s the most entertainment we’ve gotten from this whole debacle.
But let's dig into the real meat of this story, shall we? The cancelation isn't just about the show. It's about the death of the movie star. Stallone is one of the last of a dying breed. He’s a guy who became famous because his face looked like it had been carved out of a block of granite and then hit with a frying pan. He wasn't a classically trained thespian. He was a physical specimen with a speech impediment who wrote his own ticket to fame with *Rocky*. Now, he's being told that his brand of entertainment, the kind that doesn't rely on a 14-year-old influencer with a TikTok account, isn't viable anymore.
And you know what? He probably doesn't care. The guy is 78 years old. He's worth somewhere in the neighborhood of $400 million. He's got a family that he posts about on Instagram like a proud dad who just discovered the "share" button. He's probably already back in his gym, doing bicep curls with dumbbells that weigh more than a small motorcycle, planning his next vanity project. He doesn't need *Tulsa King*. But we, the viewers, we need the option to watch him. We need the reminder that there was a time when movies and TV weren't all about superheroes in spandex and pretentious prestige dramas about sad people in New York.
The rage on Reddit is particular, of course. The r/television subreddit is a cesspool of hot takes and armchair executives. The top comment on the cancellation thread was, predictably, something along the lines of "This is what happens when you have a show whose title is a city and a king, but not enough city and way too much king." Another genius pointed out that the show peaked in the first season when Dwight was fumbling around Tulsa, befriending a weed dealer and a bar owner. The second season went full "mafia soap opera," and apparently, that's where they lost the plot. The consensus is that Stallone was fine, the supporting cast was decent, but the writing was about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the kneecaps.
But here's my hot take, and I'm going to get downvoted to oblivion for this: canceling *Tulsa King* is a bad look, not for Stallone, but for Paramount+. This is a company that is bleeding money. They’re merging with Skydance, they’re trying to figure out how to compete with Netflix and Disney+, and their answer is to cancel the show starring one of the most recognizable actors on the planet? It’s clown behavior. It’s like owning a Ferrari and deciding to swap the engine for a hamster wheel because it’s more eco-friendly.
The whole thing reeks of a knee-jerk reaction to numbers that don't tell the full story. *Tulsa King* was a hit. It was one of the top-performing originals on the platform. It had a built-in audience of people who just
Final Thoughts
Having spent decades chronicling Hollywood's peaks and valleys, I've seen few careers as defiantly self-authored as Stallone's—a man who turned his own perceived limitations into a blockbuster mythology. His lasting legacy isn't just the body count or the box office receipts, but the stubborn, almost working-class belief that the underdog's greatest weapon is an unshakeable will. In an era of manufactured franchises, he remains the last true auteur of the action genre, proving that the most compelling special effect is authentic, battered humanity.