In a landscape cluttered with reboots and retreads, Paramount+’s Lioness roars onto screens like a predator in the shadows: a high-stakes CIA thriller that blends the tactical grit of Zero Dark Thirty with the moral quagmire of Homeland, starring powerhouses Nicole Kidman and Zoe Saldaña. Created by Taylor Sheridan—the mind behind Yellowstone and Tulsa King—this eight-episode juggernaut plunges viewers into a world of covert missions, ethical minefields, and pulse-pounding action, where the line between hunter and hunted blurs faster than a desert mirage. Dropping its full season today, Lioness isn’t just binge bait—it’s a visceral reminder that in the war on terror, the deadliest weapons are the ones you can’t see coming.

At its core is Joe (Saldaña), a battle-hardened CIA operative whose life is a mosaic of scars and suppressed screams. Tasked with training a cadre of young female agents to infiltrate terrorist networks—leveraging the overlooked power of women in male-dominated shadows—Joe navigates a labyrinth of betrayals and blowback. Kidman, in a role that cements her pivot from arthouse elegance to action auteur, plays Kaitlyn Meade, Joe’s steely superior and the program’s shadowy architect. “We don’t recruit princesses,” Kaitlyn snarls in the pilot, her Australian drawl laced with venom. “We forge lions.” The series, inspired by the real-life Lioness Program (a short-lived U.S. Marine initiative for female cultural advisors in Iraq), amps the drama: Joe’s recruits, including the fiercely talented Cruz Manuel (Laysla De Oliveira) and the haunted Aaliyah (Stephanie Nur), aren’t just soldiers—they’re daughters, sisters, and ghosts haunted by the missions that claim their souls.

Sheridan’s signature style shines: taut dialogue that crackles like dry brushfire, sprawling vistas from Moroccan dunes to Virginia safehouses, and action sequences that feel choreographed by a sadist. Episode 3’s raid on a Syrian compound—handheld cams shaking as Saldaña’s Joe whispers orders into earpieces while dodging RPGs—is a masterclass in tension, blending Sicario‘s moral rot with The Bourne Identity‘s kinetic fury. But Lioness isn’t all explosions; it’s a scalpel to the psyche. Cruz’s arc, as a first-gen Latina recruit torn between duty and family, pulses with raw authenticity, De Oliveira infusing her with a quiet rage that erupts in Episode 6’s gut-wrenching interrogation scene. Nur’s Aaliyah, a veiled operative grappling with cultural erasure, delivers lines like “I’m not invisible—I’m the blade you never see” with a ferocity that lingers long after the credits.

The ensemble elevates the stakes: Michael Kelly as the chain-smoking CIA director Byron Westfield, a Sheridan staple of weary cynicism, spars with Kidman’s Kaitlyn in boardroom battles that rival Succession‘s venom. Dave Annable’s Joe, the program’s skeptical medic husband, adds domestic fracture—dinner tables where wedding anniversaries clash with deployment deadlines. Visually, it’s stunning: Sheridan’s Montana ranch aesthetic traded for arid hellscapes, lensed by cinematographer Ben Richardson with a desaturated palette that makes every drop of blood pop.

Critics are raving. Variety calls it “Sheridan’s sharpest swing at global intrigue—a feminist 24 for the TikTok era.” Rotten Tomatoes sits at 92% fresh, with audiences praising the “impossible-to-look-away” twists: a mid-season mole reveal that flips alliances like a house of cards. Yet, whispers of controversy linger—Sheridan’s history of “problematic” female portrayals (à la Wind River) draws side-eye, though Saldaña’s Joe subverts the trope, emerging as the unyielding alpha.

Lioness arrives amid real-world echoes: U.S. drone strikes in Yemen, debates over female roles in intelligence. It’s not subtle—Sheridan doesn’t do subtle—but in Saldaña’s steely gaze and Kidman’s coiled menace, it finds poetry. Episode 8’s finale, a rain-soaked extraction gone wrong, leaves you breathless, questioning if victory ever tastes sweet. Fast-paced, visually arresting, and thematically thorny, Lioness isn’t just a thriller—it’s a roar for the women who fight in silence. Stream now; the shadows are closing in.