Over the years, I’ve lost track of how many “Yellowstone” spinoffs Paramount is actually making. There are the prequels “1883” and “1923” (originally titled “1932”); the upcoming sequel, “The Madison” (formerly “2024”); and then there’s “6666” and “1944,” both of which are still in development. Eventually Taylor Sheridan is going to run out of numbers, but until then, his ever-expanding Taylorverse shows no signs of slowing down.
Still, he’ll have to excuse me for assuming “Landman” — a modern western set in West Texas about a no-bullshit oil company fixer who has a daughter with oddly sexualized daddy issues, a son doing the dirty work to be just like his old man, and an awkwardly inserted country-rock song for every awkwardly forced joke about millennial snowflakes — shares more than a writer, director, executive producer, and creator with “Yellowstone.”
But officially, at least, that’s all that connects the new Paramount+ drama with Paramount Network’s biggest hit. “Landman” is not a prequel, sequel, or spinoff. It’s an original series, and despite its many similarities to Sheridan’s franchise tentpole, more important than what they have in common may be what drives them apart.
Where “Yellowstone” wears its wistful affections for ranchers’ dying way of life with a recognizable romanticism, “Landman” is bitter and hardened over the dangerous work done by drilling crews. Not only is it tougher to get swept up in the daily grind of pumping oil than it is to see cowboys herding cattle, it’s emptier, too. After five episodes (or half the first season) of harsh tonal shifts and lengthy monologues begging to be fact-checked, there’s no telling what “Landman” is even about. Somewhere in there is a tragedy: A man who was once given a taste of the American dream — only to have it spoil on his tongue — can’t help but go back to the rotting buffet, searching for seconds. But that honest idea is buried under so many outdated stereotypes, artificial action, and unconvincing characters, it’s impossible to trust Sheridan has anything of value to communicate in his latest horse opera.
As for sheer entertainment, all you get is Billy Bob Thornton — who provides quite a bit, all things considered. Introduced from under a sack midway after being abducted by a Mexican drug cartel, Tommy Norris is too busy and too tired for lengthy speeches, and yet he constantly finds himself giving one. (Maybe he’s busy and tired because of the speeches? Hard to say.) Either way, as he explains to his captor, Tommy really isn’t anybody. He’s just a utility player for a massive oil company whose job consists of two wide-ranging duties: He secures the land-lease agreements on behalf of his boss, Monty (played by Jon Hamm, who looks less like a “Monty” than anyone else alive, but does a fine job talking sternly into his cell phone for five minutes an episode), and he manages the people who work that land.
Unfortunately for Tommy, that means he needs a few signatures from the guy who just shot one of his own goons in the head, and he has to keep him happy for however long their respective businesses require sharing part of West Texas known as The Patch. Later, via voiceover, Tommy will tell us that procuring the land-lease agreement — aka being kidnapped and held at gunpoint — is the easy part. It’s managing the land that’ll “get you killed.”
And yet, I’m pretty sure the abduction is as bad as it gets. Sure, Tommy would tell you that dealing with big-city lawyers (a Northwestern grad who bristles at being called “lady”), a demanding ex-wife (who shouts at him over FaceTime before showing up to seduce him in his bed), and putting out actual oil-well fires (not unlike Daniel Plainview in “There Will be Blood”!) is worse than a few ornery coke dealers. But “Landman” strains to convince us that watching drillers and derrickmen go about their day is more dramatic than a runaway truck hitched to an oil tanker smashing into a private jet filled with $30 million worth of cocaine. It does try (mainly by letting Thornton wax poetic every other scene), but even when the consequences of messing up on the rig are heartbreaking, the suspense of waiting for the next calamity quickly goes slack.
“Landman” is more convincing playing provocateur. Attempts to mock casual environmentalists, uninformed women, and businessmen who subscribe to things like good manners don’t exactly add up — one interaction, when a male executive claims to be offended by a joke using the word “pussy,” is so superficially designed to make fun of overly sensitive men that it forgets to include anything truly offensive — but they’re so vehemently delivered by Thornton (and occasionally Hamm) that you have no choice but to pay attention. These angry men channel their know-it-all indignation with such vigor, the misogyny, xenophobia, and good-old-fashioned intolerance that goes with it is almost too brazen to be castigated.
Almost. Since it’s hard to say what “Landman” is really about, it’s equally difficult to ascribe meaning to much of what happens. Is Tommy a hero or an antihero? Is he a tragic figure or an inspirational one? Is his story pure entertainment, or does it want to dig into something deeper about the state of America? In time, conclusions will likely be easier to come by, but for now, “Landman” isn’t fun enough (not that it’s trying to be), funny enough (which it does go for), dramatic enough (beyond the eye-rolling soap opera elements), authentic enough (why else spend all that time watching people work?), or entertaining enough to merit our attention.
But that last deficiency does make one thing clear: At least we know it’s not “Yellowstone.”
Grade: D+
“Landman” premieres Sunday, November 17 on Paramount+ with two episodes. New episodes will be released weekly.
