When the name Baba Yaga is first thrown out in Kat Sandler’s series, “Yaga,” the reaction is what you’d expect from any thirty-something guy in the year 2026: “Wait, the one from ‘John Wick’?” The response doubles as an acknowledgement of and explanation for a title that, on its own, sounds weirdly incomplete: “Oh, OK: They couldn’t call it ‘Baba Yaga’ because then everyone would think it’s a ‘John Wick’ show. So it’s just called, ‘Yaga.’ Because it’s actually about witches.”
But “Yaga” is also weirdly incomplete in execution, mainly because it’s not nearly weird enough. Adapted from Sandler’s play of the same name, the eight-episode series reimagines the Baba Yaga myth as a detective-driven mystery — not the myth about Keanu Reeves’ unkillable assassin, but the historical one from Slavic folklore about a witch who, depending on the teller, is either a nice, accommodating, elderly woman, or a kidnapping, kid-eating monster.
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Sandler’s story savors teasing both potential interpretations, presenting its witchy characters as simultaneously suspicious and helpful to make sure either explanation remains plausible as long as possible: They’re there to prey on the townsfolk, or they’re there to help our investigators crack the case. Or, perhaps, it’s a little bit of both.
But “Yaga” never reaches its potential as a horror show or a mystery (and I can’t say whether its feminist underpinnings pay off either, since only seven of the eight episodes were made available for review). It’s not scary enough to qualify as the former or bewitching enough to sustain the latter. Instead, it leans on traditional, less exciting crime drama tropes while stretching out a whodunit that spends way too long pretending the answer won’t involve double, double toil and trouble, burning fire and cauldron bubbles. As fun as it is to watch Carrie-Anne Moss toy with various fuckboys, it would be nice to know why she’s doing it much, much sooner (if at all).
Things pop off with the disappearance of Henry Park (played by “Heated Rivalry’s” Hudson Williams in yet another Crave production). Henry is the heir to his family fishing empire, but he’s better known around their small, coastal town as a bro who throws great parties. He lives in a giant mansion with one (1) roommate: a friend named Logan who, despite being unrelated, looks exactly like Henry. Both roles are played by Williams, and while neither takes up that much screentime, the actor does a fine job distinguishing the entitled playboy from his quiet, fawning sidekick.
Our leads, of course, are our detectives: There’s Carson (Clark Backo), a by-the-book beat cop in the Whittock police department whose personal life is vastly underdeveloped, and Rapp (Noah Reid), a private investigator flown in (literally) by the Park family who sucks up too much oxygen. When Rapp gets dropped off at Henry’s house by helicopter, Carson takes one look at his outfit and laughs: black skinny tie, black leather jacket, brown leather duffel bag. He’s not dressed for the rainy Canadian countryside, but another cop says exactly what Rapp hopes he’ll say: “I think he looks pretty cool.”
Rapp’s first impression proves right on the nose: He’s impossibly full of himself. Cocksure and brazen, Rapp is paired with Carson by the local chief, but he doesn’t work well with others. He chases his own theories while searching for Henry (which conveniently involve a lot of drug-fueled parties and women amenable to his charms) and follows up however he feels like it (or if he feels like it, in case he’s moved on to another amenable woman). If that means a little unlawful search and seizure, so be it. If it means sleeping with a suspect (or two, or three), well that’s just a perk of the job.
Rapp comes off as such a clichéd bad boy you can’t wait for Carson to pop his inflated ego, and “Yaga” acknowledges that desire almost as quickly as it establishes the need for it. When Rapp climbs out of the helicopter to introduce himself, smoothing his hair back into place after the whirling blades displace his slick, faux-casual styling, he slips and eats dirt. Great! Get him, “Yaga!” This guy sucks, and he could only be coded as more of a douchebag if he was hocking crypto on the side and smoking cigarettes for the health benefits.
But then…he just… sticks around? Unchecked and encouraged for reasons yet unknown? Rapp’s schtick goes on for so long, working his “magic” on so many Whittock women, I found myself wondering, “Is Noah Reid Canada’s version of Ryan Gosling?” No, of course not! Ryan Gosling is Canada’s version of Ryan Gosling! Plus, if anyone in the “Yaga” cast should be treated like the most irresistible man in the northernmost part of North America, it’s Hudson Williams. After “Heated Rivalry,” no one would think twice about that guy going to bed with anyone he wants, even if he also had the worst game in town.
“Yaga” does offer some delicious comeuppance in the form of seductive, empowered suspects like Katherine (Carrie-Anne Moss), a professor who loves bones so much she wrote a book called — I am not kidding — ”Sexy Bones.” And there are a few sexy scenes here and there, although they’re usually creep-ified by ominous narration from a yet-unseen witch, disturbing hallucinations, or Rapp’s involvement.
“Yaga” feels like it’s building to a welcome point — about society’s centuries-long persecution and distrust of women, about the appropriate response to condoned oppression, about bad men with good hair — but the subtext isn’t enough to sustain eight episodes, even when they clock in at roughly 30 minutes apiece. It doesn’t help that our de facto protagonist, Carson, is a complete blank. If she was able or willing to balance out Rapp’s toxic energy, maybe “Yaga” could cast a convincing spell. As is, it’s a lot of incantations without the ensuing enchantment.
Grade: C
“Yaga” premieres Friday, October 23 on AMC+ with two episodes. New episodes will be released weekly through the two-episode finale on Friday, November 27.