As a longtime fan of Taylor Sheridan’s gritty, testosterone-fueled storytelling, I found myself drawn to “Yellowstone” prequel “1883.” Having grown up on ranches and oil fields, the raw, unfiltered portrayal of these industries resonated with me. The show is a classic example of Sheridan’s knack for blending soap opera drama with rugged masculinity – something I can appreciate even if I’d never admit it to my friends.
A commonly used phrase to praise a skilled entertainer is that we’d gladly pay to hear them recite a telephone directory.
Nobody, in 2024, knows what a phone book is.
Maybe it’s high time for a change in our discourse. Instead, let’s praise artists as if their talent is worth every penny to hear them deliver an aimless, quasi-poetic monologue extolling the virtues of the oil sector.
As a devoted fan, I can’t help but express my excitement about Paramount+’s new series, “Landman,” from the prolific storyteller Taylor Sheridan. This series, in my opinion, is best experienced with an open mind that embraces its raw, authentic charm. Unlike some of his other works, Sheridan seems to have intentionally stepped away from the collaborative process typically associated with writing a TV show. In fact, he’s taken on both writing and directing duties for the first two episodes, making this production feel more personal and uniquely Taylor Sheridan than ever before.
This implies that the movie features large stars (not always skillfully utilized), grandiose emotional fluctuations (often poorly performed), and significant changes in tone that left me questioning whether Landman is intended to be at least somewhat comedic. The cast is quite extensive, but there are only a few well-developed characters; instead, it seems filled with Stetson-wearing speeches ready to unfold. It’s both crudely engaging and maddeningly frustrating, marked by the extravagances of a producer who never hears the word “no.
Essentially, what I’m trying to convey is that the show in question is precisely what fans of Taylor Sheridan’s industrial complex series might be eagerly anticipating. However, it’s important to note that he doesn’t usually leave much time between his projects, so “eagerness” or “demand” might not fully capture the situation.
Incidentally, it features Billy Bob Thornton, a man whose acting talents are such that I’d happily listen to him deliver impassioned soliloquies about the grandeur of the oil industry – something the film Landman certainly provides in abundance.
Thornton takes on the character of Tommy Norris, who functions as a vague problem solver for an oil company not bound by any rules, owned by the well-groomed Monty (portrayed by Jon Hamm) and based in West Texas. In a witty nod to his previous work, Tommy is shown supporting the Permian High School football team, a team Thornton fictitiously coached during Friday Night Lights.
Tommy is currently in the process of recovery, having struggled with alcoholism. He frequently consumes Michelob Ultra, which often appears prominently in the storyline. His financial troubles arise from his oil prospecting ventures and he has a son, Cooper, who left college to work in the oil fields (played by Jacob Lofland). Additionally, he has a daughter named Ainsley, who tends to speak in a manner reminiscent of adult film actors, portrayed by Michelle Randolph. Lastly, his ex-wife, Angela, played by Ali Larter, enjoys flirting with him over video calls.
Additionally, he expresses himself in a similar manner: “There are essentially two categories of individuals who labor within this field: visionaries and underachievers. In the past, it was commonplace throughout the entire country. Those who failed moved westward, either to perish or prosper. All the way to California. However, there seem to be no dreamers out there now. There are only deceivers and idiots. This is where visionaries should be found now. And underachievers come here in hopes of triumphing. Which one will you become?
Tommy frequently delves into lengthy speeches about oil and holds a deep affection for it. However, if much of the information he shares with others is demonstrably false, we can’t claim that the character of “Landman” is misinformed, because Tommy Norris is essentially an industry representative promoting oil. It’s essential to remember that just because a character expresses something doesn’t necessarily mean the series endorses it; instead, it reflects the lack of opportunity for any contradictory viewpoints without being ridiculed in the narrative.
Tommy’s job is his top priority, where he negotiates land-lease agreements, manages interactions with local law enforcement, and takes on crucial business decisions following consultation with Monty. The area they operate in has been quite turbulent lately: A truck collided with a stolen plane during an illicit drug transaction, leading to an explosion. The oil rigs are also becoming hazardous and causing further explosions. It seems like everything is exploding these days. As a result, Tommy must team up with the stern lawyer Rebecca (played by Kayla Wallace), who’s here to express disapproval over stereotypical offenses that creators assume Gen Z finds offensive – such as sexism and ageism – and harshly reprimand men.
Tommy resides in a large suburban housing estate that now serves as a temporary accommodation for oil workers, such as engineer Dale (James Jordan) and lawyer Nate (Colm Feore). On occasion, it also becomes a place for the exuberant Ainsley during her spring break, leading to much amusement.
In this case, Landman finds it amusing: Ainsley is often mentioned as being 17 years old. However, the actress playing Ainsley, Randolph, is in her mid-20s and appears to be around the same age. This means that scenes focusing on Ainsley tend to linger on her backside, making it clear that apart from knowing Nate’s job, we learn that he becomes easily distracted by Ainsley walking around the house in her underwear. If Canada were to go to war with the United States within the next three months, one possible reason could be their frustration over talented actor Colm Feore being wasted in a role requiring him to wear an unconvincing cowboy hat and more convincingly try to avoid ogling a girl who appears to be a teenager.
If you’ve come across the term “male gaze” without fully grasping its meaning, I suggest watching the two chapters directed by Sheridan in the series Landman. In these segments, you’ll notice an abundance of scenes featuring oil rig workers at sunset and camera shots that focus on a teenage girl’s backside. This girl is distinctly characterized by her longing for her parents to reconcile, which seems to be the main reason for the camera’s attention towards her. It’s important to note that this isn’t necessarily Randolph’s intention, but it does create an uncomfortable atmosphere.
Sheridan’s series often navigate a fine balance, making their female characters both intriguing and slightly uneasy. Here, you find a diverse array of characters: the compassionate Woman of Color (Paulina Chavez, who plays Ariana, a character that evokes strong sympathy or raises questions about manipulation), the Highly Sensitive Antagonist, the Typical Manipulative Spouse, the Seductive Barista in a Bikini, and the Perplexing Presence of Demi Moore.
Moore portrays Cami, Monty’s wife, in this series. Across five episodes shown to critics, she swims two laps in a pool, cheers at a track meet for an unmentioned daughter, and advises Monty to exercise more. Her character could easily go unnoticed if not for her name in the opening credits, as the show seems entirely indifferent to her involvement.
Mind you, I can’t rule out the possibility that she’ll eventually get one of those operatic Sheridan monologues to validate this use of her time. Hamm is barely used at all (though still much more than Moore) for most of those episodes, but in the fifth he gets a quality rant about the stupidity of oil and natural gas’ opponents that I can only assume was presented to him ahead of time as the lure for his participation. Nevertheless, the gap in quality material between this and his Emmy nominated turn in Fargo is vast.
So who, exactly, does have material worthy of their talents?
To begin with, let me express my admiration for Thornton’s captivating portrayal of a drawling salesman. He masterfully delivers Sheridan’s most robust and explicit dialogues in a way that feels authentic, even making his seemingly nonsensical rants powerful and intense. The dynamic between Thornton and Larter is particularly noteworthy, as Thornton skillfully plays the one character Tommy finds difficult to confront. Larter brings an over-the-top humor to the table, a comedic touch that adds an unexpected layer to the show, a layer I believe is intentionally designed. For those interested in exploring the male gaze further, take note of Stephen Kay’s direction during episodes three to five, particularly his framing of Larter.
In other parts, Wallace delivers a powerful monologue, yet Rebecca’s portrayal beforehand is not engaging enough for audiences to fully appreciate her character afterwards. Lofland effectively conveys an unease that fits his character, who is struggling with a world that’s alien to him. However, in the fifth episode, which lasts 64 minutes, Cooper spends a significant amount of time doing yard work. This may be the least compelling 64-minute episode in today’s Peak TV era. Michael Peña and Emilio Rivera create well-defined characters with limited dialogue, but their roles are not fully explored.
It’s understandable why this topic resonated with Sheridan, a co-creator along with Christian Wallace from the “Boomtown” podcast. Industries like oil, cattle (similar to “Yellowstone”), and prisons (like “Mayor of Kingstown”) are reminiscent of Manifest Destiny and the Old West, representing extreme forms of capitalism. Characters can discuss oil prices or rig mechanics, and audiences will grasp the main ideas. Sheridan is drawn to the unsavory side of quick wealth accumulation and the tragic circumstances of those who lose it swiftly, as well as the nobility portrayed by men who wear a cowboy hat and the ruthless nature of women who know when to cry and when to dissect.
This narrative maintains its raw, individualistic character, as it wasn’t shaped by a joint effort that could have softened the edges. Yet, Sheridan enthusiasts wouldn’t desire a filter for their beloved creator, who crafts testosterone-charged soap operas for those who secretly enjoy them despite their macho facade. Here, Billy Bob Thornton delivers an impressive performance.
You absolutely know if you’re the target audience.
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2024-11-15 11:26