Netflix's latest sports comedy, The Hawk, proves that Will Ferrell can still make us laugh at a man completely losing it over a missed putt. But the show is more than just a Ferrell meltdown machine—it's a surprisingly sharp satire of golf culture, even if it sometimes loses its swing.
Ferrell plays Lonnie "The Hawk" Hawkins, a former world No. 1 golfer who dominated the sport in 2004 but has since become a punchline. His body screams retirement, but his ego insists he's one shot away from the greatest comeback ever. The series, created by Ferrell with his Gloria Sanchez partners and Rian Johnson's T-Street, follows Lonnie's quest for one more major to complete his career Grand Slam. It's a meaner, sadder character than Ferrell usually plays, and that's both the show's strength and its challenge.
Ferrell's Meanest Creation Yet
From the opening scene, Lonnie is a disaster: barreling to a PGA event in a ridiculous tour bus, flirting with his golf ball, and guzzling something suspicious from a sports bottle. He maxes out his ex-wife's credit cards, refuses to sign divorce papers, and is openly jealous of his own son, Lance (Jimmy Tatro), a rising star who embodies everything Lonnie despises about the new generation. Tatro plays Lance like a walking wellness ad with hidden chaos, and the father-son rivalry gives the show its sharpest edge.
The show's best moments come when it skewers the absurdities of professional golf—corporate sponsorships, country-club snobbery, and grown men treating a bad round like a tragedy. Lonnie isn't a fish out of water; he's the ugliest version of everyone around him, minus the manners. It's a darker joke than Ferrell's earlier sports comedies like Talladega Nights, where Ricky Bobby was an oblivious himbo. Lonnie knows exactly what his obsession costs him, but he makes the bad choices anyway.
Fortune Feimster and Molly Shannon Steal the Show
Lonnie's one redeeming relationship is with Sam (Fortune Feimster), a mechanic he hires as his caddie after she tells him to eat a Milky Way every time his blood pressure spikes. Their wary friendship is the closest The Hawk comes to heart. Molly Shannon, as Lonnie's estranged wife Stacy, is another highlight, playing a woman who turns every moment into a chance to promote her hard iced tea brand, Teed Off. She's opportunistic and hilarious.
But the show struggles with too many subplots—Luke Wilson's smug rival, Chris Parnell's tour board member, and a parade of cameos that dilute the focus. The tone also wobbles between wanting us to be appalled by Lonnie and rooting for him. Still, when it lands, it's a fun, messy ride. For fans of Ferrell's sports characters, this is a worthy addition to his roster—check out where 'The Hawk' ranks among Ricky Bobby & Co..
If you're looking for a binge that mixes laughs with a bit of bite, The Hawk is worth a swing. Just don't expect a hole-in-one.
