Friday Night Lights: On the Page and On the Small Screen

Article first published as Friday Night Lights: On the Page and on the Small Screen on Blogcritics.

Just as Rick Perry has been haunting the announced Republican candidates in Iowa in preparation for his own entry into the campaign, Texas has been haunting me in the past week. Everywhere I look: Texas. I got through a marathon viewing of season four of Friday Night Lights only to discover that Netflix wasn't making season five available for instant viewing and the network was only making the final few episodes available on the net. Most of Mao's Last Dancer, a film I picked up earlier in the week takes place in Houston. One of the books I have been reading The Shooting Salvationist deals with a true crime and trial in Midland and Austin; and the other which I have just finished in my Friday Night Lights binge is the H. G. Bissinger book on which the TV series was based.

While that may be just about as much Texas in one week as any Northeasterner can reasonably be expected to suffer without some long term damage, I must confess that the TV series sucked me in with a passion. If George Bush's Texas was anathema, Coach Eric Taylor's was another thing altogether. Sure they were football crazy, but here in Steeler country that isn't necessarily something to be disparaged. And, although as the episodes progressed with romances—teen and adult, divorces, and abortions, the series began to take on something of a soap opera aura, it was still compelling enough to keep this viewer watching, and intrigued enough to check out the original source even though it was now over 20 years old.

It is interesting how much more critical of Texas football and the social environment in general Bissinger's book is compared to the TV series. It is not that the TV series shies away from the problems. Race, economic disparity, fundamentalism, educational issues—all these problems are dealt with in one way or another in the course of the series. Indeed in many respects these are issues that become even more important than the fanaticism about football that is the major focus of the book. It is not that the series sugar coats these problems. It treats them as seriously as they are treated in the book. The difference is that the series creates a fictional Dillon, peopled with characters who may have their faults but who have their good points as well. They are shown trying to deal with all sorts of problems, often problems not related to football. The real Odessa is a much starker place. The only people Bissinger is really concerned with are the football players and perhaps some of their family members. Moreover everything is seen as it is related to football. It is always the game that is front and center.

Coaches in the book, for example, are much more callous than those on TV. Coach Taylor as played by Kyle Chandler is hard on his players but he cares for them deeply. He will go out on a limb for them; he is there for them when they need him. He is there for them even when they don't want him there. Coach Gaines, Odessa's Permian coach, is hard on his players, but once they can no longer help his team, he has no interest them. If he has any interest in anything beyond football we never hear anything about it. Coach Taylor has a home life; Coach Gaines only exists on the field and in the locker room. Gaines never really emerges as a human being.

It is by humanizing characters that the TV series takes a truly interesting sociological study and turns it into a work of dramatic art. It is by giving the coach a wife that has more to worry about than fans complaining that she stands in their way during the game. It is by giving him a teen age daughter with a mind of her own, and then adding a new born to deal with. Moreover, it is by making their problems just as important as his. And what is true for the coach, is just as true for most of the other characters on the show.

While traces of the characters in book seem to find their way into some of those in the series—the introverted under sized quarterback, the rowdy hard drinking running back with his string of girls, the black star looking for a scholarship to a major college, these are only traces. Over the weeks of the series, they develop; they become rounded individuals. Quality drama depends on character. It is in the careful development of character that the TV series excels. Bissinger is less interested in drama, not that he excludes it, he pumps the football games for all they're worth; his concern sociological reportage. What he wants is just enough drama to make his point. Obviously the book and the series are doing two different things, and they are both doing them well.

Friday Night Lights: Hello, Goodbye

Article first published as TV Review: Friday Night Lights - Hello, Goodbye on Blogcritics.

Perhaps like me, now that it has broadcast what is supposed to be its last show and been nominated for an Emmy, you have finally got around to taking a look at the critically acclaimed TV drama, Friday Night Lights. Sure, there were people who had been heaping praise upon it for years, but since I've just finished watching the fourth season of The Wire, you can see how it might take awhile for that praise to make a dent. Finally, in conjunction with the show's imminent demise, and a valedictory revisit with Peter Berg its creator and two of its stars on Fresh Air, I figured it was time to see what all the noise was about.

Luckily video of the show is readily available in a number of places on the net, and I have now, in less than two days, gotten through the ninth episode of the first season, and let me tell you those praise heaping critics know what they're talking about. This show is great television. It is addictive—once you get hooked, you're stuck for the ride. Plot lines are emotionally satisfying. Characters are complex. Besides, the writers are big on cliff hangers. It's hard to wait for the next episode, and that's the nice thing about watching on line. You don't have to wait a week for the next fix.

So what is all the hoopla about. It's kind of late in the game for a synopsis. Suffice it to say, the show, set in the small Texas town of Dillon, focuses on a high school football team and its central role in the town's social life. Major characters are the coach and his family and players, but it is the town, its citizens and the stakes they have the team and the Friday night game that give the show its power. Football is king, but football is a trope that stands for anything that dominates the culture of a community and binds together all social elements. There is plenty of football, but as many others have pointed out, this is less a show about football than it is about human problems and interactions. It just happens that these particular humans are obsessed with a game.

The acting is superb. Kyle Chandler plays the coach, Eric Taylor, with convincing restraint. Connie Britton reeks with Southern charm and strength of will as his wife. The young actors (too many to mention) that make up the team, the cheerleaders and the student body are varied and convincing as they work through the turmoil of youth. If at times the townsfolk are pushy smarmy stereotypes, they are nonetheless played with conviction. The writing is smart, and the photography is exciting. This is a show that has everything going for it.

And yet . . . . and yet, it has never been a ratings success. Of course, there have been plenty of attempts to explain the show's lack of mass appeal. Viewers, especially the ladies, think it's about football, and weekends with the Big Ten and the NFL are football enough. Viewers, especially the men, discover very quickly that there is less football than they expected. Once viewers get an idea, it's hard to change their mind. Scheduling, if not plain bad taste, may have been the problem.

Still it managed a decent run, and there is a good deal of buzz suggesting that this current demise might not be fatal. In a recent interview on NPR, Berg admitted that there were talks in the works about a future for the show. He wouldn't say what that future might be, but it would seem there is hope. A variety of sites on the net have indicated that Berg has confirmed that a feature length movie is in the works. One can only hope. In the meantime, there are still four and three quarters of its five seasons waiting for me to watch.

Museums Make Bet on Super Bowl

This article was first published at Blogcritics

You'd think they would be betting a case of Milwaukee's beer against Pittsburgh's Iron City. You'd think it would be their brats against our pirogues. Those are the kinds of bets public officials usually make to ensure their share of the publicity generated by high profile sporting events. And with the Super Bowl in their sights, there's no question local mayors in Green Bay and Pittsburgh will be hosting news conferences to announce their wurst beer wagers.

They may find themselves a little late. Today, comes news that their thunder has been stolen. And by whom? By whom? Two art museums, that's by whom. And they're not betting meat and drink, they're putting up the real stuff, at least the real stuff as far as art museums are concerned. In a case of art for sport's sake; they are putting up art. According to the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, the Carnegie Museum of Art (Pittsburgh's answer to the Louvre) has ventured a three month loan of Pierre-Auguste Renoir's 1890 painting, "Bathers with Crab" against the Milwaukee Art Museum's "Boating on the Yerres" by Gustave Caillebotte.

Now as a loyal Steeler fan, I must protest. Leaving aside the question of the relative value of a Renoir versus a Caillebotte, although I must admit never having heard of Monsieur Caillebotte, suffice it to say they are both French Impressionists. And leaving aside the question of whether French paintings would be more appropriate for a wager on the winner of Top Chef or Chopped, they are clearly objects of value. Still, there does appear to be a lack of balance between a picture of four nude bathing beauties and a couple of row boats on a river. It is probably too late now, but it would have been a good idea to check out Milwaukee Art's catalogue for something more equable.

On the other hand, since this is a football game we're talking about, perhaps an artistic wager that had a closer connection to the sport would make more sense. One of the Pittsburgh theatre companies could agree to do a run of Lombardi if the Packers win, and a Milwaukee group could do the one man play about Art Rooney, The Chief. We could bet art photos of Brett Farve against pictures of Terry Bradshaw with hair. Even cheese and ketchup would make more sense after all didn't Andy Warhol make a name for himself turning food into art?

Well, it may have been a sucker bet, but when you're talking about the Steelers, here in Pittsburgh you have to ask who got suckered. I've got a "terrible towel" that says there'll be a painting of boats on a river by a French Impressionist I'd never heard of before today hanging in the Carnegie Museum right next to the four nude beauties sometime this spring, Anyone have a cheese head they'd like to risk?