One of the things that I find alternatingly incredibly enervating and incredibly frustrating about this show is that so often it vacillates between the incredibly real and the incredibly artificial. One seen can feel like you're a fly on the wall inside a real Texas home, and the next can smack you in the face with reminders that what you're watching is all pretend. No other show I've seen dithers from seeming so true and genuine and so outlandish and fake from scene to scene and occasionally from moment-to-moment.
Which is to say that I gasped at the Saracens intra-family dispute. Loraine calling Shelby the devil, saying that she ruined Matt's dad, are not just incredibly harsh, they feel incredibly true to how a woman with dementia would respond at the prospect of her grandson are caretaker moving away and leaving her in the hands of her estranged daughter-in-law. It's made all the more heartbreaking by Shelby trying to do what's best for Matt, by Matt clearly feeling the guilt at both Lorraine saying "Matt would never do that" when Shelby talks about him going to college, and at the anger and hurt that his grandmother and mom each feel because of this. It's a startling scene of domestic discontent that scans as all too real to families trying to balance the interests declining elderly relatives and hopeful young men and women, with all the complications that past grudges and estrangements can provide.
The starkness of that scene, how brutally honest it feels, gives the show license to cheat a little bit. Most of the show's football scenes, though very well shot and directed, tell pretty facile stories. The idea that the Panthers offense cannot get going until Matt gets put in at wide receiver, and suddenly their fortunes change, is an easy one that feels a little too convenient to the story the show's trying to tell about Matt finding his place, on the team and off of it, after being benched. It's even more convenient that after their earlier blow up, Loraine and Shelby set aside their differences to go see Matt play live, with the subtext that despite their difference, they're united by their love for this young man. That's a pretty simple story in and of itself.
And yet, because of how well the prior scene was done, and because of how well the characters' relationships have been established prior to that point (with extra credit to Kim Dickens for how Shelby seamlessly slots into the Saracen household and feels like a part of this world), the moment when Matt hugs the two most important women in his life (give or take Julie) at the same time, is absolutely earned. It's heartwarming in a legitimate way to see this family set aside it's problems and come together because those problems are both organic to the story and seem genuine in the moment when they come to the surface.
That's particularly noteworthy because Tyra's storyline with Cash presents the exact opposite scenario. From the second he showed up on our television screens (or laptops or tablets or phones -- no judgment here), it was clear that he was meant to be some cute boy with a dark side who would lure Tyra away from her scholastic goals with his scruffy charms and then get her caught up in whatever bad news he was mixed up with, whether that's the pills he's popping or this out-of-nowhere gambling problem. So when Tyra runs away with him, and she's shocked to see how things work out poorly, it's harder as a viewer to feel sympathy or even investment in her plight, despite how likable and interesting Tyra is, because the whole story feels like a foregone conclusion.
Clear ending points and characters making predictably bad choices is not a sin in and of itself. In some instances, it can lead to a sense of creeping doom in those moments when someone we like is headed down a bad path. But Tyra's adventures with Cash feel like a trite and cheap Lifetime Movie of the Week ripoff that each new twist and turn in the story prompts a roll of the eyes rather than greater fear for our heroine. The show turns Cash's bad behavior and grumpiness up to eleven, making him feel like even more of a caricature, and the developments in their relationship, her discovery of his dark side, come so fast and furious that like Jason's sudden success last week, the rushed, implausible quality of it all completely neuters the storyline's effectiveness.
The one bright spot is Coach and Tami breaking up their little birthday celebration (and they continue to be the most adorable couple on television through that, by the way), to come rescue Tyra. It's the one piece of this--not knowing what to do and reaching out for help--that feels real, and it's no coincidence that it's the one genuinely successful portion of that plotline.
Somewhere in between is the Riggins drama. Lyla playing armchair psychologist and pointing out that Tim is too scared of failure to risk something as simple as having dinner with a recruiter that might lead him to success both works and it doesn't. It's the kind of thing that works better as subtext than having a character say it out loud, but it's still a solid throughline for a Tim Riggins story, and it's equally heartening and earned when you learn that barring some paperwork issues, Tim is going to college. There's been an effort this season to ensure that the seniors who've been with the show from the beginning get some manner of sendoff, and while this too feels a little quick, it's nice that Tim gets a slice of that as well.
Of course it comes coupled with Billy and Mindy's drama, that Lyla implausibly gets wrapped up in as well. There's a certain mirroring going on, where Lyla and Mindy bond over the shared pains of Riggins flakiness, with each eventually taking back their beaus. I suppose that each Riggins boy shows that they can change their behavior -- Billy by not having to be the breadwinner and man in charge, and Tim by swallowing his fears and facing that recruiter -- is a solid enough way to try to tell multiple stories at once, but tying Tim's personal conflict to the same, somewhat tired romantic conflict between him and Lyla over whether Lyla can depend on him, is far less successful. The chemistry between Lyla and Tim has improved as the show's gone on, but things like making somebody get out of a car on the side of the road, even if they're being a jerk, just smacks of unlikability. But hey, maybe that's true to life too.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParent2016-07-28T22:45:11Z
One of the things that I find alternatingly incredibly enervating and incredibly frustrating about this show is that so often it vacillates between the incredibly real and the incredibly artificial. One seen can feel like you're a fly on the wall inside a real Texas home, and the next can smack you in the face with reminders that what you're watching is all pretend. No other show I've seen dithers from seeming so true and genuine and so outlandish and fake from scene to scene and occasionally from moment-to-moment.
Which is to say that I gasped at the Saracens intra-family dispute. Loraine calling Shelby the devil, saying that she ruined Matt's dad, are not just incredibly harsh, they feel incredibly true to how a woman with dementia would respond at the prospect of her grandson are caretaker moving away and leaving her in the hands of her estranged daughter-in-law. It's made all the more heartbreaking by Shelby trying to do what's best for Matt, by Matt clearly feeling the guilt at both Lorraine saying "Matt would never do that" when Shelby talks about him going to college, and at the anger and hurt that his grandmother and mom each feel because of this. It's a startling scene of domestic discontent that scans as all too real to families trying to balance the interests declining elderly relatives and hopeful young men and women, with all the complications that past grudges and estrangements can provide.
The starkness of that scene, how brutally honest it feels, gives the show license to cheat a little bit. Most of the show's football scenes, though very well shot and directed, tell pretty facile stories. The idea that the Panthers offense cannot get going until Matt gets put in at wide receiver, and suddenly their fortunes change, is an easy one that feels a little too convenient to the story the show's trying to tell about Matt finding his place, on the team and off of it, after being benched. It's even more convenient that after their earlier blow up, Loraine and Shelby set aside their differences to go see Matt play live, with the subtext that despite their difference, they're united by their love for this young man. That's a pretty simple story in and of itself.
And yet, because of how well the prior scene was done, and because of how well the characters' relationships have been established prior to that point (with extra credit to Kim Dickens for how Shelby seamlessly slots into the Saracen household and feels like a part of this world), the moment when Matt hugs the two most important women in his life (give or take Julie) at the same time, is absolutely earned. It's heartwarming in a legitimate way to see this family set aside it's problems and come together because those problems are both organic to the story and seem genuine in the moment when they come to the surface.
That's particularly noteworthy because Tyra's storyline with Cash presents the exact opposite scenario. From the second he showed up on our television screens (or laptops or tablets or phones -- no judgment here), it was clear that he was meant to be some cute boy with a dark side who would lure Tyra away from her scholastic goals with his scruffy charms and then get her caught up in whatever bad news he was mixed up with, whether that's the pills he's popping or this out-of-nowhere gambling problem. So when Tyra runs away with him, and she's shocked to see how things work out poorly, it's harder as a viewer to feel sympathy or even investment in her plight, despite how likable and interesting Tyra is, because the whole story feels like a foregone conclusion.
Clear ending points and characters making predictably bad choices is not a sin in and of itself. In some instances, it can lead to a sense of creeping doom in those moments when someone we like is headed down a bad path. But Tyra's adventures with Cash feel like a trite and cheap Lifetime Movie of the Week ripoff that each new twist and turn in the story prompts a roll of the eyes rather than greater fear for our heroine. The show turns Cash's bad behavior and grumpiness up to eleven, making him feel like even more of a caricature, and the developments in their relationship, her discovery of his dark side, come so fast and furious that like Jason's sudden success last week, the rushed, implausible quality of it all completely neuters the storyline's effectiveness.
The one bright spot is Coach and Tami breaking up their little birthday celebration (and they continue to be the most adorable couple on television through that, by the way), to come rescue Tyra. It's the one piece of this--not knowing what to do and reaching out for help--that feels real, and it's no coincidence that it's the one genuinely successful portion of that plotline.
Somewhere in between is the Riggins drama. Lyla playing armchair psychologist and pointing out that Tim is too scared of failure to risk something as simple as having dinner with a recruiter that might lead him to success both works and it doesn't. It's the kind of thing that works better as subtext than having a character say it out loud, but it's still a solid throughline for a Tim Riggins story, and it's equally heartening and earned when you learn that barring some paperwork issues, Tim is going to college. There's been an effort this season to ensure that the seniors who've been with the show from the beginning get some manner of sendoff, and while this too feels a little quick, it's nice that Tim gets a slice of that as well.
Of course it comes coupled with Billy and Mindy's drama, that Lyla implausibly gets wrapped up in as well. There's a certain mirroring going on, where Lyla and Mindy bond over the shared pains of Riggins flakiness, with each eventually taking back their beaus. I suppose that each Riggins boy shows that they can change their behavior -- Billy by not having to be the breadwinner and man in charge, and Tim by swallowing his fears and facing that recruiter -- is a solid enough way to try to tell multiple stories at once, but tying Tim's personal conflict to the same, somewhat tired romantic conflict between him and Lyla over whether Lyla can depend on him, is far less successful. The chemistry between Lyla and Tim has improved as the show's gone on, but things like making somebody get out of a car on the side of the road, even if they're being a jerk, just smacks of unlikability. But hey, maybe that's true to life too.