The vast, unforgiving wilderness of an Australian national park has once again become the beating heart of one of Netflix’s most quietly addictive series. Untamed, the slow-burn Australian crime drama that debuted as a limited series in late 2025, has defied expectations and earned a full Season 2 renewal. What was originally intended as a single, self-contained story has now expanded into a continuing investigation, with Eric Bana returning as the stoic, haunted park ranger Kyle Turner. The decision to greenlight a second season speaks volumes: in an era of rapid cancellations and formulaic thrillers, Untamed has carved out its own space through sheer atmospheric power, emotional restraint, and a refusal to rush the storytelling.
When Untamed premiered, few predicted it would become one of Netflix’s stealth hits of the year. Marketed modestly as a six-episode Australian original, the series arrived without massive promotional fanfare. Yet word-of-mouth spread quickly. Viewers were drawn in by its deliberate pacing, its willingness to let silence do the heavy lifting, and its unflinching portrayal of nature as both breathtaking and brutally indifferent. The show opens with the discovery of a woman’s body in a remote section of an unnamed national park—her death ruled accidental at first, until subtle inconsistencies begin to unravel the official narrative. Kyle Turner, a veteran ranger who has spent most of his adult life patrolling these same trails, is pulled into the investigation not as a detective, but as the man who knows the land better than anyone else.
Eric Bana’s performance is the gravitational center of the series. Known for roles of quiet intensity (Chopper, Munich, Black Hawk Down), Bana brings a weathered authenticity to Kyle Turner that feels lived-in from the first frame. His face—lined, watchful, rarely breaking into a full smile—conveys more through micro-expressions than most actors manage with pages of dialogue. Turner is not a classic hero. He is a man shaped by years of solitude, a failed marriage, and the slow erosion of trust in people after too many years witnessing what humans are capable of in isolation. When he speaks, it is measured, economical, often delivered in half-sentences or single words. The show trusts the audience to read between the lines, and Bana’s restraint makes every glance, every pause, feel loaded with unspoken history.
Season 1’s mystery unfolds in layers. The dead woman is identified as a hiker who went missing weeks earlier. At first glance, it appears she simply lost her way and succumbed to exposure. But small details begin to contradict that theory: the position of her body, the lack of certain expected injuries, a single boot print that doesn’t match her footwear. The deeper Kyle digs, the more the investigation pulls him into the hidden lives of the people who use the park—rangers, poachers, tourists, Indigenous custodians, and the occasional drifter. Each character is drawn with nuance; no one is purely good or evil. The show never raises its voice, yet the tension builds relentlessly through long, unbroken shots of the landscape, the crunch of boots on gravel, the sudden snap of a branch in the distance.
Critics praised the series for its refusal to lean on familiar tropes. There are no car chases, no dramatic shootouts, no last-minute confessions under harsh lighting. Instead, Untamed relies on atmosphere and character. The national park itself becomes a central character—vast, indifferent, beautiful, and merciless. Cinematographer Bonnie Elliott (known for her work on The Dry and Nitram) captures the Australian bush in all its contradictory moods: golden light filtering through eucalyptus, sudden storms that turn trails into rivers, the suffocating stillness of a summer afternoon. The sound design is equally masterful—wind through leaves, distant bird calls, the low rumble of thunder—creating a sonic landscape that feels alive and watchful.
The renewal announcement came quietly, almost fittingly, via a brief Netflix press release and a single image posted to the show’s social channels: Kyle Turner standing alone on a ridge at dusk, the vastness of the park stretching behind him. No release date was given, only the confirmation that production would begin later in 2026. The delay is unsurprising. Filming in remote national parks is logistically brutal—limited daylight hours, unpredictable weather, strict environmental regulations, and the constant challenge of moving heavy equipment across rugged terrain. Season 1 reportedly took nearly nine months to shoot due to these conditions. Season 2 is expected to follow a similar timeline, with principal photography likely starting in the Australian spring (September–November) to capture the changing light and seasonal shifts that are so integral to the show’s mood.
Plot details for Season 2 remain closely guarded, but several key elements have been confirmed. Eric Bana will return as Kyle Turner, now carrying the emotional scars of the first investigation. The new season will introduce a fresh case, once again rooted in the park’s isolation and the secrets people bring into it. Showrunner Sarah Lambert (who also wrote the first season) has promised that the tone will remain “cold, slow, and deeply human.” She has hinted that the new mystery will explore themes of legacy, guilt, and the cost of silence—ideas that resonate strongly with Turner’s own arc. While Season 1 focused on a single death, Season 2 is expected to widen the scope slightly, perhaps involving multiple disappearances or a pattern that has gone unnoticed for years.
The supporting cast is also set to return in key roles. Leah Purcell reprises her role as Indigenous ranger and cultural advisor Mara Clarke, whose knowledge of the land and its history provides vital context. Her character was one of the most quietly powerful in Season 1, offering a perspective that contrasted sharply with the mostly white investigative lens. Sam Reid returns as Detective Lucas Hayes, the city detective who initially clashes with Turner’s methodical, land-based approach but eventually earns his respect. Their uneasy partnership—marked by mutual distrust turning slowly into grudging alliance—provided some of Season 1’s most compelling scenes. New characters are expected to join the ensemble, including at least one major antagonist whose motives remain opaque until late in the season.
The renewal also signals Netflix’s growing investment in Australian originals that prioritize quality over quantity. Untamed joins a short but impressive list of slow-burn crime dramas—alongside The Kettering Incident, Mystery Road, and The Tourist—that have found international audiences by embracing local storytelling and landscapes. Unlike many streaming thrillers that rely on constant plot twists and cliffhangers, Untamed trusts its audience to sit with discomfort, to absorb the weight of silence and landscape. That trust has been rewarded: the show consistently ranked in Netflix’s global top 10 for several weeks, with particularly strong numbers in Australia, the UK, Canada, and parts of Europe.
Fans have already begun speculating about where Season 2 might take the story. Some hope for a deeper exploration of Turner’s past—perhaps a case that forces him to confront an old failure or a personal loss. Others predict the series will weave in more Indigenous perspectives, building on Mara’s role and addressing the ongoing conversation about land rights, cultural heritage, and reconciliation in Australia. There is also quiet excitement about the possibility of seeing more of the park’s seasonal extremes—bushfires, flooding, drought—each of which could serve as both setting and metaphor.
The greatest strength of Untamed remains its refusal to over-explain. It lets the audience feel the cold, the isolation, the creeping dread. It trusts viewers to notice the small things: a broken branch that shouldn’t be broken, a footprint half-erased by rain, the way Kyle’s eyes linger on a distant ridge as though he is listening to something no one else can hear. In a streaming landscape often dominated by noise, Untamed is a reminder that quiet can be the loudest thing of all.
As production gears up for the second season, anticipation continues to build. The long wait—likely stretching into late 2027 or even 2028—will test the patience of fans, but if the first season is any indication, the reward will be worth it. Eric Bana’s Kyle Turner will return to the trails he knows better than anyone, once again walking the line between protector and haunted man. The park will wait, vast and indifferent, holding its secrets until the moment is right.
For now, the ridge stands empty under a wide sky. But soon enough, the boots will crunch again on gravel, the wind will move through the trees, and another story will begin—slow, deliberate, and unforgettable.
