Okay, I realize that no one needs another t.v. show to obsess about, but I can't help myself. I have to pimp the awesomeness that is Friday Night Lights again. And again, and again, and again. It's getting its sweet, sincere ass kicked by Dancing With the Stars, NCIS, even Gilmore Girls, so it could use all the help it can get.
But don't take my word for it. I come bearing persuasive arguments.
1) The Boys.
Jailbait? Check. Wounded, sensitive, inarticulate, teens? Check. Complicated home lives? Check. It's only the second episode, and already, we've discovered the following things:
-- All-star QB Jason Street -- horribly injured in the Pilot -- is not only a polite automaton, groomed his whole life for stardom and success. He's also a clear-eyed, smart kid on his way to becoming a helluva strong man.
-- Back-up QB Matt Saracen is living with his (adorable), if failing, grandma. His dad's in Iraq, his mom is (so far) MIA, and he's barely holding it together -- taking care of his grandma, working to support them both, and trying to figure out what to do know that he's in the spotlight.
-- Tim Riggins, who's a defensive guy of some sort. (Yeah, did I mention that you really don't have to know anything about football to enjoy this show? Case in point.) He's a hothead, a drunk, and is -- at least as far as we've seen -- being raised by his wastrel older brother, himself a formidable former football player. He's a wreck, in every sense of the word. Also, extremely hot. I mean, like, dirty hot.
-- Brian "Smash" Williams, the African-American running back (see! I know some stuff) with a silver tongue and a devotion to God. He also has a single mom who -- in less than three minutes on screen -- instantly became my favorite person ever in last night's episode. He and Rig are mortal enemies, at least off the field.
-- Landry Clarke, is, ironically, despite his name, the only main boy not on the team. He's Matt's odd, motormouth best friend, who may or may not be starting a Christian speed-metal band.
2) The women.
Because, really, even the girls in this one are women. I know that one of the points the original movie Friday Night Lights was how this football obsession marginalizes the girls in the small town, these characters have already come out blazing.
-- Tami Taylor, the Coach's wife, played by the amazing Connie Britton, who just inhabits this role. She's smart and practical, and amazing to watch as she goes from "Hey y'all" lady who boosters to steel-eyed heart of her family in seconds flat.
-- Julie Taylor, the Coach's daughter, who won't eat with football players, who seems to tolerate the football nonsense mostly out of love for her daddy, and who won my heart forever by effortlessly comparing a high-school football season to Moby Dick.
-- Lyla Garrity, who looks like a Stepford Wife, is the head freaking cheerleader, and is in a serious state of denial over her boyfriend Jason Street's long-term prognosis. This actress's accent is wacky, but watching her -- all brittle steel under doe-eyed, Southern sweetness, it's easy to see why they went with her.
-- Tyra Collette, or, as Supernatural fans may know her, Sam's dead girlfriend, the toasted Jess. She's Tim Riggins erstwhile girlfriend, and sort of the town slut. She's smarter than she looks, at least so far, and she's the only character so far that seems equally at home with the white or the black players.
3) The Coach.
He's so awesome, he gets his own number. He's the fantabulous Kyle Chandler, now with bonus hardscrabble Texas accent. I love that he's been -- so far -- equal parts family man, hard nose and father figure. He actually seems sincerely interested in guiding these boys not only to football glory but to manhood.
There's a scene in the pilot, where troubled -- and trouble with a capital T -- Tim Riggins comes to practice hungover and still half-drunk, and he has the entire team practice tackling him, over and over, saying "Get up, son" in this quiet voice after every hit -- well, not only to you get a sense of the dangerous man who'd been thus far hidden under wraps, but you see that he might, in some cases, be the first man who ever took these boys seriously, took them to task, and demanded the best from them, all in a calm, quiet voice. It's amazing.
And then last night? When he took the scared sophomore QB and lit a fire in his soul in the middle of the night on a lonely football field? I didn't honestly think I could love Kyle Chandler more until just then.
4) The Town.
Because, really, it's a character all its own. In only two episodes, we've already gotten a feel for the town and the stakes it has in football. It's honest about small-town -- hell, about suburban -- life without ever being condescending, which is a rare feat. The place for adults to see and be seen is the local Applebee's, just as the place for the kids to go is the local drive-through. In some ways, it's like the town that time forgot, and then you see the pressure on the Coach for a win, on the kids -- who are like rock stars -- the way that hardly any family is intact, and hardly anyone -- except maybe Jason and Lyla -- has big dreams, and it grounds you right back in today.
5) The Issues.
Not in a preachy, after-school special way. It's tackling the rarely-talked-about issues of race, politics, religion and class with subtlety and surety so far. Case in point, as the members of the team and their families gather to pray for the injured Matt on Sunday, all the black players are in one church, all the white in another. And I love that it portrays the everyday way that religion permeates everything -- not in a crazy way, as it's often portrayed, but as just another part of small-town life.
6) The Soundtrack.
So far, it's kicking all kinds of ass. Over the aforementioned "Get up, son" scene, Ram Jam's pulsing Black Betty. In a scene at the local car dealership, the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs suddenly break in. And in the lead-up to last night's suspenseful ending, Bright Eyes' Devil Town was the perfect backdrop.
7) The Humor.
For a grim show about a violent sport in a dying town, there's a lot of humor to break it up. The Ann Richards-esque mayor, telling squeaky-clean Jason Street to listen to "early Black Sabbath" to get meaner. Tim Riggins, getting hit on by an older woman who thinks a blitz just sounds "so sexual." And just about every scene Landry's in.
8) The Art.
There is nothing that looks remotely like it on t.v. right now. It's all overexposed bright sunlight and shaky, handheld cameras that increase the feeling that you're watching a fly-on-the-wall documentary. And it makes the inevitable Friday night games look simultaneously artful -- like some choreographed dance -- from above, and chaotic from the field-eye view. So far, it's been using these neat tricks to serve the story, and not to show off, but I suppose that time will tell.
9) The Smarts.
I love that it assumes we're all smart enough to figure out what's happening -- which is probably why it's tanking in the ratings. The book-club ladies come across as sharks, not airheads. Lyla's about ten seconds from cracking wide-open this whole episode, and only her increasingly plastered-on smile gives her away. Not even a week into the season, the air-conditioning's on the fritz in the Taylor household, and the Coach is on verge of losing his job, and the Coach is on the verge of losing his job. Without one word of discussion, Tammie's decided to get a job. Matt doesn't want the coach to see the tiny house he shares with his grandmother; the Coach knows that before he even opens the front door.
It's a toss-up for me as to what, exactly, was the best scene of the last episode:
-- The Coach goes to visit Jason Street, who's just learned the devastating outcome of his spinal surgery. As the two talk, and Jason pushes him to give Matt some breathing room, saying that Matt's creative because "he listens to Bob Dylan, and draws pictures, and stuff" -- we see not only the relationship that's built between the Coach and his star player (since Pee-Wee league), and a glimmer of the strength in this young man has inside, but also a sense of what a brilliantly intuitive sense he has of how to play the game -- he just gets football -- and how truly devastating this loss is.
-- Tim Riggins sits alone in the locker room, watching film of the hit that ended Street's career over and over and over again, until his face finally crumples and he starts, not even to sob, but to hyperventilate. It's absolutely heartbreaking.
-- The amazing, extended sequence where the Coach comes to visit Matt at his grandmother's house. In which he figures out who Matt is -- a hard worker, a workhorse, but also a bit of a dreamer -- and then finds the exact right way to get Matt to commit to his new role, to step up and embrace his destiny. And again, you get the sense that he's going to push this kid not just to be a better player, but a better man.
I love a show that gives me layers.
10) The heart.
See above, re: the best three scenes of the episode, then add in the ease amongst the Taylors, the hero-worshipping Pee Wee leaguers, the conflicted kids, the big stakes, the way that religion just sort of weaves itself in and out of everything. Lyla bringing rally cookies to Jason in the hospital. And that scene in the end, when Matt tells the Coach his eyes were open "the whole time."
Shut up! You'd cry, too.
And just in case, check out some of the smart writing:
In the bookclub scene, as Tammie finally gloms onto what's really happening:
I loved the book. Y'all didn't read the book? Y'all don't -- read -- the books?
... Let's talk about what's important. (Said in the sweetest Southern accent) Smashmouth football. Smash. Mouth. Football.
Says Tyra, to a typically emo, hysterical freshman girl at the diner, crying over the injured Jason:
Hey, hey -- yeah, you! You don't even know Jason Street, so stop crying. No, seriously. Stop. Followed by her turning to her boyfriend, and asking, as if inquiring about the weather, So, how exactly drunk are you right now?
At the diner, a perky "rally girl" -- think Veronica Mars baking Wallace all those snickerdoodles -- which nearly causes poor Landry to choke on his Coca-Cola:
Hey, Matt. I'm all yours. Now that you're first-string, you get a first-string rally girl. So the way this usually works is, you tell me what you like, and I provide it. So, what do you like, Matt? And yes, it's exactly as dirty as it sounds.
And says Landry, when Matt confesses to being uncomfortable with all the attention:
Well, maybe it's not right, but it's what we got.
Says Smash to the already-angry Tim, provoking the fight that he was just able to walk away from:
Hey, smile, Rig! God don't like ugly.
Says Smash's awesome momma, ten seconds after finding Tyra and Smash in an, er, compromising position on her couch at what appears to be the Dillon, Texas projects, to Tyra:
You! Come with me. They march out of the house and back towards the parking lot. Is this to get back at Tim Riggins?
Says Tyra: What are you, a shrink?
Oh, that'd be nice. I work at Planned Parenthood. You probably haven't seen the last of me.
I know how to use protection! I'm not some piece of trash!
Aw, no. You're a class act, all the way.
What does that mean?
It means you're safe to walk from here.
That two-minute exchange just killed on about three different levels.
Says Landry, driving Matt, the new "QB One" to practice:
The point is, you gotta learn to work the media . . . right now, the bitches can't even get your name right.
Says velvet-over-steel Lyla, to the reluctant Tim Riggins:
I know you're not a chatterbox about your feelings, but if you want to talk, I'm here for you . . . Visiting hours are over at six, but I kind of have the place wired. You know, you wait too long, he's gonna start taking it personal.
Says poor delusional Lyla, to Jason in the hospital:
I don't think Dr. Crow realizes who you are. We are going to go out and find the best doctors out there, that's what we're gonna do. You are Jason Street and I am Lyla Garrity, and everything's going to work out just the way we planned it.
Says Tami, to her increasingly panicked husband, the Coach:
I know what you're going to do. You're going to mold that boy, just like you did Jason Street. . . . You know what, there is not a person in the world that could do this except for you. This is what you do . . . I believe in you. I believe in you with every cell in my being.
Says the Coach, to the fearful and shamed Matt Saracen:
I don't know how you do it. You got your studies, you're working for a living -- all that, and you're man of the house, too. And I'll tell you something, I know you didn't want me to step foot in your house tonight, but I'll tell you something -- you should feel proud. You should feel real proud. See all this -- it's yours for the taking.
And if I still haven't managed to convince you, you can go download an entire ep at NBC.com.
Yes, it's a little earnest, and yes, it's a little cliched, but it's got its heart in the right place, and its eyes on the stars.
Remember, Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose!
Help out the underdog! Give yourself a treat! Check out my new obsession. You'll be glad you did.
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