“I wanted to kill him, sir.”
Thank goodness for the Texas good ‘ole boy network, because there’s not much ambiguity in that statement. It’s funny: The staging of the scene where Landry brains Tyra’s attacker was filmed in at least two different ways. The screener I got before the season started had Landry taking a bottle to the victim’s head in what could be construed as self-defense in the eyes of the law. The version that aired, on the other hand, had Landry wielding a tire-iron to the man as he was clearly walking away, which is a whole different ballgame legally (and morally) speaking. Landry did, in fact, intend to do grievous harm to this man, and for him, coming clean means telling the truth in whole, even if it results in hard time. As he tells Tyra later in the episode, “I feel like I’m choosing between jail or Hell.”
I guess the VBM-haters will never be swayed, but after seeing the entire arc of the subplot play out, I’m now convinced that it’s been one of the most resonant elements of the show this season. That first scene, with Landry stubbornly refusing to soften his testimony, was just heartbreaking to watch, as was his father dragging him out before he incriminates himself any further. In two separate scenes later, his father and Tyra succeed in convincing him to play ball—the former by talking about how jail time will break his parents’ hearts, and the latter by painting him as her savior. He gets off the hook officially, but that chilling final shot of his eyes as he tells the good news to Tyra lets us know that he’s not persuaded of his innocence. He’s a condemned man.
I suspect that Landry will never really go back to being “normal,” and that the VBM will continue to reverberate throughout the series’ run. And I’m okay with that. I love Landry as the goofy, wisecracking frontman of Crucifictorious, but the VBM has shown us another side of him (and of Jesse Plemons, who’s been absolutely first-rate) that’s valuable, too. Over the course of a TV series’ run, I think we have to allow characters to evolve and deepen. The VBM seemed at first like an incongruous event on a show so vigorously devoted to everyday life, but it was ultimately well-handled and not disruptive to the overall tone. One could cynically claim that it was concocted as a ratings ploy or an outrageous contrivance to give two outsiders something to do, but I think it gave us a strong glimpse into Landry’s home-life (which is quite different from the average Panther) and an even stronger glimpse into his soul.
Overall, “The Confession” turned out to be a very strong episode, second only to the magical “Let’s Get It On” hour in Week Five. If casual viewers tuned in to watch the exciting conclusion of the VBM, they got a chance to see the show operating at near-peak form, with a nice balance of lump-in-the-throat moments and some refreshing light comedy. I talked last week about the rollercoaster ride this season, with great and dubious subplots coexisting rather queasily at times, but I’m feeling optimistic that the show will find a more consistent groove—and not because the VBM has been (technically) resolved.
Tami and Julie have been at each other’s throats all season, a situation that’s about 90% Julie’s fault and 10% Tami’s, but it was nice to see them finally have it out. Though I haven’t always appreciated Julie’s persistent brattiness—or, at times, the direction the writers have taken her character— I feel obligated to credit Aimee Teagarden (the one actress who’s more or less playing her age) for doing fine work in the role. During the screaming match that prefaced their reconciliation, you could swear Teagarden was Connie Britton’s real-life daughter, given their combative nature. When Julie insisted to her mother that she was in fact growing up, it occurred to me that she was exactly right. She’s not the freshman wallflower anymore, which makes her a pain-in-the-ass for the time being, but assertiveness is part of becoming an adult.