How Taylor Nichols Left Metropolitan for Rural
Friday Night Lights - Seasons 1 and 2 (2006-2008)
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
viewed instantly on Netflix
I watched Halloween on the 31st, but I don't have anything new to say about it, except that the recurring shot of the outside of Lindsey Wallace's house is the scariest set in the movie. Ever onward, then, to a show with 22 episodes to a season. I'd forgotten what a march it can be to get from a pilot to the finale on that schedule, but Friday Night Lights is that rare phenomenon (at least these days) where the first season felt better thought-out than the second. The second was shorter, and I couldn't believe the number of bad subplots that the writers stuffed into a series that doesn't have a reason to exist if it isn't going to be about high school football.
As Syl said, the line between some of Friday Night Lights' "issue of the week" episodes (be it small-town racism, steroids in sports, or handicap awareness) and Strangers with Candy can get awfully thin. Jason Street's wheelchair buddy makes me grimace each time I see him, but I'm willing to float the bad characters (and even, yes, the murder) to spend time with three of the show's principals and the actors who play them: Eric Taylor, Tim Riggins, and Buddy Garrity. Kyle Chandler grew up in Georgia and Taylor Kitsch in Vancouver, but you can't fake a Texan with a man like Brad Leland around to live out what looks like his autobiography on the small screen.
Those guys make it work, whether Tim is coaching Powderpuff football, Coach Taylor is meeting with Smash over burgers, or Buddy is sleeping in the office of his dealership. I could watch them all day, and frankly, at the pace I'm going, that's how it works. I enjoy the Texas traditions like lake house parties, but more importantly, I admire the attention the show pays to the kind of state and small towns that could create men like Buddy, Tim, and Coach. They get the weather right, too, especially winters (it's officially a trend), and winter in Texas looks like summer from here.
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
viewed instantly on Netflix
I watched Halloween on the 31st, but I don't have anything new to say about it, except that the recurring shot of the outside of Lindsey Wallace's house is the scariest set in the movie. Ever onward, then, to a show with 22 episodes to a season. I'd forgotten what a march it can be to get from a pilot to the finale on that schedule, but Friday Night Lights is that rare phenomenon (at least these days) where the first season felt better thought-out than the second. The second was shorter, and I couldn't believe the number of bad subplots that the writers stuffed into a series that doesn't have a reason to exist if it isn't going to be about high school football.
As Syl said, the line between some of Friday Night Lights' "issue of the week" episodes (be it small-town racism, steroids in sports, or handicap awareness) and Strangers with Candy can get awfully thin. Jason Street's wheelchair buddy makes me grimace each time I see him, but I'm willing to float the bad characters (and even, yes, the murder) to spend time with three of the show's principals and the actors who play them: Eric Taylor, Tim Riggins, and Buddy Garrity. Kyle Chandler grew up in Georgia and Taylor Kitsch in Vancouver, but you can't fake a Texan with a man like Brad Leland around to live out what looks like his autobiography on the small screen.
Those guys make it work, whether Tim is coaching Powderpuff football, Coach Taylor is meeting with Smash over burgers, or Buddy is sleeping in the office of his dealership. I could watch them all day, and frankly, at the pace I'm going, that's how it works. I enjoy the Texas traditions like lake house parties, but more importantly, I admire the attention the show pays to the kind of state and small towns that could create men like Buddy, Tim, and Coach. They get the weather right, too, especially winters (it's officially a trend), and winter in Texas looks like summer from here.
posted by NPK at 8:24 AM
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