What started out as a literal blast to kick off Season 1 of Landman, has quickly simmered. Taylor Sheridan’s newest series showcasing modern day life out west, has firmly settled into a rather predictable formula for the show — a little calamity to get the blood pumping; a little family tough love peppered in between; a little life lesson on the economics of oil, and whole lot of gratuitous drone shots of the West Texas landscape.
While Landman continues to succeed in depicting the challenges and complexities of the landman profession, particularly, those tied to its titular character, Tommy Norris (played by Billy Bob Thornton), it lacks a fully fleshed out compelling storyline. Outside of the documentary-style dissertation we seem to get each episode with Thornton’s Tommy schooling all those who will listen on the monetary value that is the oil business, the show has not introduced anything new to its structure or plot points in four episodes. If his character is not telling us how the workings of this $3 billion industry will affect grocery prices in middle America, he is running down an organizational chart of all those who benefit from the oil business week in and week out. Same song, different variations of the same verse.
Nevertheless, Thorton remains the highlight of the show each week as the seasoned landman navigating difficult situations, tough negotiations, and the dysfunction of his family, which includes his ex-wife, Angela (Ali Larter); teenaged daughter, Aynsley, (Michelle Randolph); and college dropout-turned-oil roughneck son, Caleb, played by Jacob Lofland. In his signature gruff, no-nonsense style, Thornton embodies the weathered roughneck and crisis management executive with equal parts confidence and vulnerability, complete with an alpha male sensibility and an exceptionally dry sense of humor.
The fourth installment of the 10-episode season, streaming now on Paramount, finds landman Norris at the deposition for the lawsuit involving his employer’s stolen airplane that crashed with an oil tanker on a highway in the season opener. When the hard-nosed, big city attorney hired to make the lawsuit go away does just that with one of the best five-minute, single-sentence, tongue-lashing monologues in recent TV history, Tommy and the suits learn quickly why you can never judge a girl by her skirt and why she was worth every bit of her $900-an-hour retainer. Will not lie — that scene, alone, was poetic to watch and worth playing on repeat just to see those smug corporate boys squirm in their Cole Haans…again and again.
Across town, Angela and Aynsley continue their every-day-is-holiday spring break by the pool. When they quickly grow bored of that existence, mom and daughter go in search of good times over good spirits, only to end up at the same oilfield cafe as Tommy and Rebecca, the attorney, enjoying their own celebratory drink. When Angela spies Tommy from across the room, she makes a play to assert herself as queen bee in his conversation. Despite her current marital status, she invites him and the young attorney to join her and her daughter for dinner. In what was meant to be a socially awkward moment for all involved, Rebecca agrees to dine with the Norrises.
At dinner, Angela regales the table with stories of happier times when her and Tommy were married, before the oil bust and the Norrises lost everything. Uncomfortable with the trip down memory lane, Tommy feigns needing to get back to work. With Angela in tears, Rebecca offers to give mother and daughter a ride home. No doubt, that ride should go well. Sarcasm very much intended.
The discourse between the two ladies on the drive home over a question of jealousy in regards to Tommy highlights what remains problematic for the show — the troubling tropes, the constant stereotypes of oil wives as shallow, and the portrayal of women in general, particularly, the notion that two women who find themselves in the same space as one man must somehow be in competition with each other for his affection, whether they are looking to fight for it or not. Not only does this uninspired portrayal perpetuate outdated narratives, it also stifles more meaningful character development and suggests the women’s roles on the show are no more than mere half-dressed, tear-stained accessories for their male counterparts. If true, an opportunity for richer content for these characters to the overall story is lost, as a result.
If there is one thing the show does get right each week, it is showcasing how life on an oil rig is a blend of grueling labor, crew camaraderie, and constant danger, particularly, for the boots-on-the-ground roughnecks. To highlight, we find ourselves back at the Patch to close out episode 4, to get another look at the latter, when one of Caleb’s fellow crew members gets his hand smashed installing equipment on the new rig. Dangling high above the rig, passed out, and oozing blood, the crew jump into action to bring the young man down and rushed for medical attention. Despite now being a man down, though, the remaining roughnecks are ordered to bring the new rig online by morning. As fate would have it, Caleb, as the newbie, must now step up as a derrickhand to “feed the pipe,” to make that happen. In his portrayal of Caleb, Lofland has been another bright spot for the series, as he continues to display the young roughneck’s raw emotions of fear and uncertainty with every new experience out in the oilfield. The subtle interplay of Lofland’s eyes and facial expressions draws you into the young roughneck’s turmoil, making you feel the weight of what he is being asked to do.
Cut to a slow pan of the one of the most stunning of all the characters on the show — the classic pumpjack, a mechanical marvel brilliantly silhouetted against the West Texas sunset. Such is life on the Patch.
Written by Taylor Sheridan, Season 1 of Landman continues through January 2025. Catch new episodes each Sunday on Paramount.
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