Monsters of Television

Oh, dear, are we witnessing the return of "Annoying Julie"?

“This has been a strange week.”

When Tami makes this comment to Coach Taylor as they sit at a table staring at a gun, you understand that this year at East Dillon is challenging the Taylors in new ways. In general, though, this was a week of baby steps on Friday Night Lights. Landry and Vince make strong choices about their future, but other characters, like Julie and Becky, simply struggle to get by. Considering the number of subplots at play this season, it is impressive that each storyline continues to hold my attention—even the second time through. These characters—most of them—are just darn likeable. Or at least darn identifiable, which may be worth more.

I’ve read some criticism of this season of Friday Night Lights for its rather naïve depiction of race relations in Dillon. In particular, the program’s handling of Vince and his struggle against the negative influences of his neighborhood buddies has drawn the fire of some critics who feel that the show simply misses the mark when it tries to go “ghetto.” Can’t help wondering what the critics who write these critiques know about the ghetto (aside from The Wire), but that’s a discussion for another day. On Friday’s episode, I thought the growing relationship between Coach Taylor (Kyle Chandler) and Vince (Michael B. Jordan) was the best thing about the episode.

Unless I missed something, the spark that lit this week’s central conflict with Vince was rather unmotivated (and a bit lazy). After making Vince his quarterback, Coach Taylor is dismayed when some police officers show up at the school, following an anonymous tip that Vince has a gun in his locker. The police search the locker and do not find a gun, but just who called in this tip is never made clear and is somewhat beside the point. Instead, the point of the search is to place doubt in the Coach’s mind about Vince.

Coach’s wife, Tami, acts as the voice of reason for the Coach, suggesting he simply ask Vince if he owns a gun. She reminds him, ““He’s never going to trust you if you don’t trust him.” Coach follows her advice, and Vince says he does not own a gun. Coach believes him—or so it seems. A visit from Vince’s mother, however, seems to disrupt the coach’s quiet. She thanks the coach for believing in her son, and it seems the coach better understands the stakes and the depth of his responsibility.

Later in the program, the coach pulls into the parking lot at Vince’s apartment. Annoyed at his persistence, Vince tries to remind the coach that his life isn’t enchanted—that he must constantly watch his back when he leaves the safety of the school grounds. Coach isn’t deterred, though it is interesting to see him somewhat beyond his depth. He tells Vince, “I’m offering you everything I’ve got. This is not just about football. Think about that.”

The Coach doesn’t know the details of Vince’s life—in particular the constant lure of his friend’s criminal life style—but he intuits that this is a moment in which he can help this kid be more. This is not the first time the coach has encountered a situation in which he does not know quite how to help.  I’m thinking of  great moments past, as when the Coach sits with Matt Saracen, crying in the shower about everybody leaving him.  Or when the coach suffers hurt feelings after he learns Jason Street’s family is suing him. But with Vince, he encounters not only a trouble kid, but an entire social environment that works to keep Vince from succeeding. There are big odds against Vince completing high school, and the coach’s determination to do his best as a mentor provides these scenes with a hope that education can uplift.

Vince shows up at Coach’s door at the end of the episode and turns in the gun he claimed not to have. It is a great moment—especially because it is another example of the masterly way FNL underplays its most dramatic moments. Vince hands him the gun hidden in a brown bag without a word. Coach understands, and takes it, also without a word. He later tells Tami the gun will disappear. All kids like Vince need a man like Coach Taylor.

Okay, let’s see, who else is there to discuss? Luke’s burgeoning friendship with Tink was sweet, but like the anonymous tip that sends the police to Vince’s locker, it was a bit unmotivated. After losing his best bud, the jerkstore J.D. McCoy, Luke seems a bit lost at sea with out a compass (or a story). This week his farmer father tries to keep him home from school to rebuilt a fence to prevent cow theft.  A football player who misses school also misses the game, so Luke must find a way to please both his father and his coach.  FNL has done better in the past the storyline of the parent who fails to appreciate the importance of football for a son. Here, the writers don’t develop Luke’s father’s character enough to make this story resonate.  Luke then becomes injured while helping his dad.  His injury, which will impact the team in future episodes, occurs by chance, which may be realistic but does not help drive the character or his story forward.

Julie mourns the loss of Matt, dismayed to learn he has called his grandmother more than once but has not seen fit to contact her at all. Honestly, Matt’s approach here makes perfect sense to me—when you break up, buy an island, put your ex on it, and sail away—but Julie doesn’t seem to know it is over between she and Matt. She slips for a moment into “Annoying Julie,” yelling at some random kid during her study session for the “Academic Smackdown” match (“Do you understand the irony in the term “Academic Smackdown,” Landry asks her—awesome). Yet her softer side emerges at the end of the episode as she answers a question for the Smackdown match by naming two novels by Thomas Wolfe that address the American theme of the wanderer: “Look Homeward, Angel” and “You Can’t Go Home Again.” I’m sure we’ll see “Annoying Julie” again, but as her voice quivers when she answers this question, the pain of young love lost is potent.

Speaking of annoying, Becky actually annoys less this week. Her trucker father returns and buys her a puppy instead of, you know, being a real dad who loves and supports her. Becky gets angry with her mother instead of her father, of course, because that is what kids do. Luckily, “Abandoned-by-Father Expert” Tim Riggins steps in. He not only informs Becky that her dad has another family in Seattle, he then also gets into a fight with the dad—in the mud, wrestling around–completely ridiculous, but that’s our Riggins.  When he tells Becky, “This is what they do—your dad, my dad—they leave and don’t come back,” he speaks for all angry children. Even when FNL falters along the journey of its storylines, it usually hits home in a profound way with the payoff. And seeing Tim Riggins bond with the dog Becky’s mother returned to the pound was payoff enough for all that lacks with Becky’s various storylines.

Gosh, there’s so much more.  How does this show fit all this into an hour?  Glenn kisses Tami! Billy’s wife goes on bedrest! And the strippers throw her a joint baby shower/fundraiser (!?!?!), cause, you know, that’s what strippers do. Billy starts acting stupidly again, after talking with world’s least helpful doctor ever (“Sorry, kid, if you don’t pay for your wife to stay in our hospital for days on end, you are a bad dad and husband,” he tells Billy…Well, not really, but that’s the gist—again, lazy writing). Bad news spoiler–Billy won’t stop being stupid for a while.  Oh, and Landry breaks up with an absent Tyra so he can date Jess (boy’s not dumb). With all these plot balls in the air, no wonder the writers occasionally take short cuts.

Ah well, this episode was relatively uneventful, and yet I’ve written over 1500 words. This is FNL on a not great day. And it was still pretty great.