Taylor Sheridan may think we won’t notice — but Landman feels a lot like Yellowstone with a tangy new coat of paint
Taylor Sheridan never releases a new series quietly. Every project he touches sparks debate, devotion, and inevitable comparison — and Landman is no exception. As the Paramount+ drama makes its debut, the conversation is already heating up: is this a bold new chapter, or simply Yellowstone repackaged for the oil fields of West Texas?
At first glance, Landman looks like a fresh start. The sprawling Yellowstone saga may be winding down through its many sequels and prequels, but Sheridan’s latest venture trades cattle ranches for oil rigs while keeping much of his signature DNA intact. Cowboy hats, power struggles, and ruthless ambition are still very much in play.
Set in the high-stakes world of West Texas oil, Landman pulls viewers into an industry where fortunes are made — and destroyed — overnight. Inspired by the 2019 podcast Boomtown, the series promises a behind-the-scenes look at the people who keep America’s energy machine running, no matter the cost.
Yet the similarities to Yellowstone are hard to ignore.
Billy Bob Thornton’s Tommy Norris occupies a narrative space strikingly similar to Kevin Costner’s John Dutton. Both men operate in morally gray territory, navigating systems where the line between legitimate business and organized crime is paper-thin. Both shows frame the American dream as something brutal, exclusionary, and fiercely defended.
And just like Yellowstone, Landman makes it surprisingly easy to root for characters who would, in most worlds, be considered villains. Whether it’s the Dutton family ruling Montana like feudal lords or oil executives bulldozing land, people, and nature to protect profit, power often comes with few real consequences. Even visually, the overlap is clear — familiar wardrobes, familiar swagger, familiar posturing — making Landman feel like Yellowstone dressed for a different job site.
That sense of déjà vu is where the criticism begins to sharpen.
Many viewers argue that Landman doesn’t bring enough new ideas to justify its existence. Beyond surface-level changes, the show appears to retread familiar ground rather than challenge itself or its audience. More troubling, however, is its handling of the serious issues it gestures toward.
The series flirts with weighty themes — wealth inequality, environmental destruction, racism, and corporate exploitation — but rarely commits to exploring them with depth or urgency. These topics are introduced, acknowledged, and then quickly sidelined, as if their mere presence is enough to signal relevance.
What could have been a biting social critique instead feels hesitant and underdeveloped. The issues exist largely as background noise, not as forces that meaningfully shape the story or challenge the characters. As a result, Landman hints at significance without fully earning it.
That doesn’t make the show unwatchable. It remains slick, well-acted, and undeniably compelling in moments. But it does leave the impression of a missed opportunity — a series that had the tools to say something new about modern America and chose familiarity instead.
In the end, Landman isn’t a failure. But it also isn’t the radical reinvention some hoped for. For better or worse, it feels like Taylor Sheridan returning to familiar territory, convinced the audience won’t notice the echoes.
Landman is currently streaming on Paramount+.*
