‘Landman’ Ending Explained – A Feature-Length Finale Leaves Things On An Uncertain Note

Nobody was expecting a happy ending to Landman, and Episode 10, “The Crumbs of Hope”, is the furthest thing from one. But I was pretty happy about it. I was happy that it was able to close off a good number of the first season’s subplots without cutting corners but while leaving things open for a – inevitable, at this point – sophomore outing. I’m glad it found a way to keep Rebecca involved. I’m admittedly not thrilled about having to waste more time on Angela and Ainsley’s dull personal endeavors, but you can’t have everything.

In general, though, the Landman finale is very good and feels like the epic climax its 80-minute runtime suggests. There were many times during this season that I worried we wouldn’t get here, that by this point the show would have idled so long that it had no audience and nowhere to go. But I’m pleased to be wrong in this case. “The Crumbs of Hope” isn’t perfect, but it’s pretty damn good.

The central incident, even though it only occurs in a montage towards the end, is Monty’s death. At the beginning of the finale, he’s merely incapacitated, waiting on a heart transplant that he may not become strong enough to receive. There’s a callousness to how the reins are handed to Tommy, who is made interim president of M-Tex Oil and given the responsibility by Cami of securing a lucrative new deal, which speaks to the business-first mentality that killed Monty in the first place. Tommy’s reluctant, but what choice does he have? As he says later, “Men die. Oil companies don’t die.”

But Landman Episode 10 wants to make it clear that Tommy’s pragmatism doesn’t mean he’s devoid of feeling. Some of the most telling scenes in the finale are the ones in between the others, where Tommy is driving and making calls while processing the grief of his best friend’s impending demise. There are different shades to the conversations he has with Rebecca (who Monty wanted to take the lead on the new deal), Nate (who isn’t thrilled about what Rebecca’s promotion means for him), and Angela (who ceases her complaining and softens the moment she realizes Tommy is in genuine emotional pain) that paint a surprisingly well-rounded picture of a character in turmoil.

Rebecca, it turns out, isn’t keen on fracking, morally speaking, which is a bit ironic given how willing she is to rip off and silence grieving families. But Tommy explains to her that this is, unfortunately, how the world works, and until it starts running on something other than oil, it needs to be fed to keep spinning. This is both true and not. The other side of the argument is made, indirectly, by Cooper.

I’ve thought about it a lot and I’m pretty sure that Cooper and Ariana’s relationship is one of the more intriguing and sensitively handled in recent memory, but while Paulina Chavez is fantastic in this, it’s Cooper’s character who makes the whole thing tick. When he comes home from making preposterously fair deals to scoop up more leases for his burgeoning oil empire, he discovers Ariana in quite a state, having been looking through old photo albums of her and Elvio. Most male characters would have hit the roof, or at least sulked their way out of the door. But Cooper doesn’t. He sits with Ariana and combs through the memories with her, asking her questions about each photo and telling her how beautiful she looked on her wedding day. When she thanks him, it isn’t for the compliment, but for his understanding and maturity, which helps her settle into her grief and begin processing the loss of her husband and her sudden, unexpected love for Cooper.

Billy Bob Thornton in Landman | Image via Paramount+

Contrast this nuanced and sophisticated scene with whatever is going on with Angela and Ainsley and there’s a night and day difference. As funny as it is to see the old folks in the strip club, I’m profoundly uninterested in Ainsley’s relationship with Ryder, however nice of a guy he might be. Them finally spending the night together – in a more romantic context than usual, although Landman can’t resist Ainsley throwing on some lingerie and giving him a lap dance – is supposed to be a parallel to her early-season relationship with Dakota, who wasn’t interested in any part of her he couldn’t stick something in, but I didn’t care about that relationship either. If Landman is renewed, it simply has to find something better to do with its women.

Given Tommy’s experiences with the cartel, that potential second season does seem to have more viability. The short-term problem – which escalates into Tommy being kidnapped, tortured, and almost killed – is at least solved, but the big boss of the cartel, while he seems more amenable, likely won’t be the most flexible business partner. Now that Tommy is the president of M-Tex, he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, his responsibilities to his oldest friend clashing with the danger of maintaining operations on cartel turf.

And this is definitely taking its toll. When Dale finally picks Tommy up he’s bruised, battered, and has a hole in his leg from a nail that was hammered there. Dale asks him how he’s feeling mentally, and Tommy replies that he’s thinking about taking up drinking again (not that he ever stopped, but his alcoholism was presumably so bad that the fact he only drinks light beer now basically constitutes sobriety.)

In true Taylor Sheridan fashion, the ending of Landman Episode 10 sees Tommy, very much worse for wear and without the energy to reprimand Ainsley for allowing Ryder to spend the night, coming face to face with another coyote. This one is a baby, sniffing around its parent, which was shot by a neighbor at the end of the previous episode. “You better run, buddy,” Tommy mutters. “They kill coyotes around here.”

Metaphorically speaking, I’m not sure whether he’s the coyote in danger, the hunter, or the parent whose cubs will inevitably find him dead.