Coach Taylor has always fancied himself, or at least conducted himself, as someone who cares about morals and ethics. "Backfire" isn't subtle about it, but I appreciate the idea of how the episode plays with our sympathies in the Dillon coaching situation. Look, we all knew that Coach Taylor was coming back to coach the Panthers sooner or later. Frankly, I'm surprised and mildly impressed that the show stuck out the TMU business for four episodes before resetting everything to the status quo. I'm even more impressed that for all the narrative handwaves and contrivances that it took to get things back where they were when Season 1 episode, the show doesn't completely gloss over them, but rather highlights how all the subterfuge and backroom dealing runs counter to Coach Taylor's ethos and the realization of that leaves him shaken.
The moment where Coach McGregor confront Coach Taylor on the Taylors' front porch is a strong one. It's easy to root for Coach Taylor to come home in this situation. We've seen how run ragged Tami is trying to keep the household afloat on her own. We've seen how Julie is acting out in the shadow of the impression that both her parents have abandonned her in favor of "more important things." And we've seen how the team has fallen apart under McGregor's tenure, with infighting between the star players, Riggins absconding from the team, and Jason treated like an afterthought. We want Coach Taylor to come back and right the ship.
But it is shitty to fire someone after two games. It is certainly crap to do it based on a handshake deal meant to undermine him. And as Coach McGregor points out, he too has a family and concerns of his own that it's presumptuous at best and callous at worst for Buddy, let alone Coach Taylor, to ignore when enacting their scheme. We may want Coach Taylor back as viewers, but there's a right way to do this sort of thing, and this clearly wasn't it. FNL doesn't shy away from that fact even as it installs Eric Taylor as Dillon's coach once more, and the moral culpability of that path is by far the best-written element of this episode.
Part of the benefit of Coach Taylor's return is that it eases the burden on the rest of the family. The conflict between Tami and Julie, particularly as regards The Swede has been a bit too melodramatic, but here, the show returns to its more down-to-earth roots. The wisdom shared by Tami during a driving lesson with Julie, that a young Tami made a similar choice and regretted it, works as one of those genuine-feeling moments with mother and daughter. When Julie shows up to Anton's dingy apartment, her mother's words still ringing in her ear, the realization that she's walking into a similar situation dawns on her. While the moment isn't especially subtle, it's not underlined with dialogue, and the naturalism of it helps as a step toward a meaningful reconciliation between mother and daughter.
Speaking of reconciliation, Buddy using Lyla's interest in helping ex-con's in order to repair his relationship with his daughter was an entirely too predictable story beat. There's meat on the bone to the idea of Lyla exploring the hypocrisy of the good girl life her mother no doubt instilled at her -- that you're meant to be seen to do good and right, but when push comes to shove and there's unpleasant or scary people who need help, that crowd looks the other way. But Lyla going to a prison and finding a pet project isn't the best realization of that story. Like many things with Lyla, whether it's the actress's performance or the writing, Lyla just never seems sincere and that hurts the impact of the story, as does the triteness of the "good girl learns criminal isn't so bad" plot.
It does not, however, hold a candle to the dullest part of the episode, which is Jason and Tim cavorting down in Mexico. It says something that even dullard Tim Riggins is smart enough to realize that the Mexican doctor is selling his friend snake oil (or shark oil, as the case may be). But it strains credulity that even if Jason has every psychological incentive to want to believe that this is a miracle cure, that he would buy this load of shit, and that renders the whole story seeming like a stretch. It doesn't help that these segments pair up the two least charismatic members of the cast, with particularly heavy doses of Jason blathering on with emotional exposition. The promise of throwing Lyla into the mix once more doesn't portend great things on that front either.
Sometimes, however, a superb performance can help salvage a bizarre storyline. Landry going all Telltale Heart with the killing still feels like a plot ripped from another show with a very different tone, and the fact that his dad is a cop who's involved in the investigation who will, if the meaningful look he shares with Tyra toward the end of the episode is any indication, no doubt be further entangled in the mess with his son, seems like a pretty convenient dramatic fact. But Adrianne Palicki continues to give a stellar performance, and the brief bit of tension when she's in the interrogation room being told that the cops ID'd the body they pulled out of the river, coupled with her tears and relief when she realizes that they're not implicating her in his murder, just confirming that he's the right guy, is a quality moment. The fact that he was wanted for two other rapes adds more moral complications to Landry's actions, which also helps to make this dissonant storyline have some legs here.
Similar moral complications help add intrigue to the inevitable return of Coach Taylor to Dillon. This is a TV show, and one on network television to boot. That means that most of the essential relationships and premises on the show almost invariably get returned to the status quo despite the promise of big changes. But the least you can do, and what Friday Night Lights does here, is give that predictable return meaning by couching it as an ethical failing on the part of the show's protagonist. Coach may try to keep his eyes on what's ahead of him, be glad that he's reunited with his family and new baby, but he knows that character is important to him, and today, he failed his own test in that regard. If you're going to embrace the inevitable, embracing the complications that would come with it does a lot to make the journey back to the familiar something laden with meaning rather than a perfunctory march to the necessary destination.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParent2016-07-04T20:05:32Z
Coach Taylor has always fancied himself, or at least conducted himself, as someone who cares about morals and ethics. "Backfire" isn't subtle about it, but I appreciate the idea of how the episode plays with our sympathies in the Dillon coaching situation. Look, we all knew that Coach Taylor was coming back to coach the Panthers sooner or later. Frankly, I'm surprised and mildly impressed that the show stuck out the TMU business for four episodes before resetting everything to the status quo. I'm even more impressed that for all the narrative handwaves and contrivances that it took to get things back where they were when Season 1 episode, the show doesn't completely gloss over them, but rather highlights how all the subterfuge and backroom dealing runs counter to Coach Taylor's ethos and the realization of that leaves him shaken.
The moment where Coach McGregor confront Coach Taylor on the Taylors' front porch is a strong one. It's easy to root for Coach Taylor to come home in this situation. We've seen how run ragged Tami is trying to keep the household afloat on her own. We've seen how Julie is acting out in the shadow of the impression that both her parents have abandonned her in favor of "more important things." And we've seen how the team has fallen apart under McGregor's tenure, with infighting between the star players, Riggins absconding from the team, and Jason treated like an afterthought. We want Coach Taylor to come back and right the ship.
But it is shitty to fire someone after two games. It is certainly crap to do it based on a handshake deal meant to undermine him. And as Coach McGregor points out, he too has a family and concerns of his own that it's presumptuous at best and callous at worst for Buddy, let alone Coach Taylor, to ignore when enacting their scheme. We may want Coach Taylor back as viewers, but there's a right way to do this sort of thing, and this clearly wasn't it. FNL doesn't shy away from that fact even as it installs Eric Taylor as Dillon's coach once more, and the moral culpability of that path is by far the best-written element of this episode.
Part of the benefit of Coach Taylor's return is that it eases the burden on the rest of the family. The conflict between Tami and Julie, particularly as regards The Swede has been a bit too melodramatic, but here, the show returns to its more down-to-earth roots. The wisdom shared by Tami during a driving lesson with Julie, that a young Tami made a similar choice and regretted it, works as one of those genuine-feeling moments with mother and daughter. When Julie shows up to Anton's dingy apartment, her mother's words still ringing in her ear, the realization that she's walking into a similar situation dawns on her. While the moment isn't especially subtle, it's not underlined with dialogue, and the naturalism of it helps as a step toward a meaningful reconciliation between mother and daughter.
Speaking of reconciliation, Buddy using Lyla's interest in helping ex-con's in order to repair his relationship with his daughter was an entirely too predictable story beat. There's meat on the bone to the idea of Lyla exploring the hypocrisy of the good girl life her mother no doubt instilled at her -- that you're meant to be seen to do good and right, but when push comes to shove and there's unpleasant or scary people who need help, that crowd looks the other way. But Lyla going to a prison and finding a pet project isn't the best realization of that story. Like many things with Lyla, whether it's the actress's performance or the writing, Lyla just never seems sincere and that hurts the impact of the story, as does the triteness of the "good girl learns criminal isn't so bad" plot.
It does not, however, hold a candle to the dullest part of the episode, which is Jason and Tim cavorting down in Mexico. It says something that even dullard Tim Riggins is smart enough to realize that the Mexican doctor is selling his friend snake oil (or shark oil, as the case may be). But it strains credulity that even if Jason has every psychological incentive to want to believe that this is a miracle cure, that he would buy this load of shit, and that renders the whole story seeming like a stretch. It doesn't help that these segments pair up the two least charismatic members of the cast, with particularly heavy doses of Jason blathering on with emotional exposition. The promise of throwing Lyla into the mix once more doesn't portend great things on that front either.
Sometimes, however, a superb performance can help salvage a bizarre storyline. Landry going all Telltale Heart with the killing still feels like a plot ripped from another show with a very different tone, and the fact that his dad is a cop who's involved in the investigation who will, if the meaningful look he shares with Tyra toward the end of the episode is any indication, no doubt be further entangled in the mess with his son, seems like a pretty convenient dramatic fact. But Adrianne Palicki continues to give a stellar performance, and the brief bit of tension when she's in the interrogation room being told that the cops ID'd the body they pulled out of the river, coupled with her tears and relief when she realizes that they're not implicating her in his murder, just confirming that he's the right guy, is a quality moment. The fact that he was wanted for two other rapes adds more moral complications to Landry's actions, which also helps to make this dissonant storyline have some legs here.
Similar moral complications help add intrigue to the inevitable return of Coach Taylor to Dillon. This is a TV show, and one on network television to boot. That means that most of the essential relationships and premises on the show almost invariably get returned to the status quo despite the promise of big changes. But the least you can do, and what Friday Night Lights does here, is give that predictable return meaning by couching it as an ethical failing on the part of the show's protagonist. Coach may try to keep his eyes on what's ahead of him, be glad that he's reunited with his family and new baby, but he knows that character is important to him, and today, he failed his own test in that regard. If you're going to embrace the inevitable, embracing the complications that would come with it does a lot to make the journey back to the familiar something laden with meaning rather than a perfunctory march to the necessary destination.