At this point, Landman should not function as well as it does. On paper, the series breaks nearly every accepted rule of serialized television storytelling. The pacing is erratic, the plot often feels secondary, and entire episodes can unfold without what most shows would consider “momentum.” And yet, somehow, it works. Not just occasionally, but consistently. Season 2, Episode 8 - aptly titled “Handsome Touched Me” - is perhaps the clearest embodiment of this contradiction. It is indulgent, strange, emotionally messy, and unexpectedly profound, all at once.
Last week’s episode flirted with the idea of stillness, almost daring viewers to accuse it of inactivity. This week, however, proves that Landman has never been about whether things are happening, it’s about how they happen. Episode 8 doesn’t push the story forward in bold strokes; instead, it deepens it through emotional choices, personal reckonings, and a recurring meditation on luck, grief, and the dangerous romance of risk.
At the center of the episode is M-Tex’s looming decision to drill again at sea or take the safer route and pursue legal action against the insurance company. On the surface, this feels like a easy business dilemma, one rooted in finance, geology, and probability. But Landman refuses to let this remain a cold, analytical problem. Instead, the decision fractures into several character-driven perspectives; Rebecca’s calculated pragmatism, Charlie’s poetic optimism, Cami’s grief-soaked desperation, and Tommy’s weary realism.
The old platform sat atop a confirmed gas field, but locating a viable pocket is far from guaranteed. Drilling again would mean wagering roughly $400 million on odds hovering around ten percent. The upside, however, is staggering, an almost obscene return if Charlie’s projections are even remotely accurate. Tommy attempts to frame the situation logically, gathering Rebecca, Charlie, and Nate (beamed in remotely) to present the case to Cami. His goal is restraint. Charlie’s goal, whether intentional or not, is seduction.
It works!
Charlie doesn’t sell the numbers, he sells the dream. He paints a picture of abundance so vivid it overrides caution. Cami doesn’t greenlight the gamble because it makes financial sense; she does it because it feels like movement, like defiance against the grief that has paralyzed her. It’s a reminder that in Landman, the most consequential decisions are rarely rational. They’re emotional leaps dressed up as strategy.
This tension carries over into Tommy’s meeting with Gallino, where he hopes to undermine the funding by emphasizing just how unlikely success truly is. Gallino, however, is unmoved. Protected by royalty guarantees that ensure he’ll be repaid regardless of the outcome, Gallino indulges the thrill of possibility. He keeps countering Tommy’s cynicism with hypotheticals, what if it hits immediately? What if the yield surpasses expectations? What if lightning strikes twice?
Tommy knows better! He’s seen enough wells fail to understand the probable outcome: bankruptcy, asset liquidation, and a quiet exile cushioned by wealth but hollowed by loss. Gallino doesn’t view that fate as tragic. For him, it’s merely another exit strategy. What he fails to grasp, and what Tommy understands intimately, is that for Cami, failure isn’t an escape. It’s another kind of death.
The truth comes into sharp focus after Cami lashes out violently at a stranger in a bar, a moment of unfiltered anguish that exposes how close she is to the edge. Later, she pulls Tommy aside, finally articulating what’s driving her reckless determination. She doesn’t want comfort. She doesn’t want safety. She wants success, something tangible to anchor her grief to purpose. Drilling isn’t about profit; it’s about survival.
Ironically, Tommy himself isn’t immune to the allure of risk. In one of the episode’s quieter but more revealing scenes, he gathers Boss and the crew to inspect Cooper’s wells, announcing his son’s promotion to project manager. Boss questions the wisdom of the move, pointing out Cooper’s inexperience. Tommy’s response is deceptively simple: Cooper is six-for-six. He’s on a streak. And in this world, streaks matter.
Luck, called wildcatting in the drilling business, becomes the episode’s unspoken thesis. Charlie has already introduced the concept earlier in the season, but “Handsome Touched Me” returns to it relentlessly, reframing luck not as recklessness, but as courage. Sometimes, the show suggests, belief itself tilts the odds.
The philosophy extends beyond the oil fields and into the episode’s most unexpectedly joyous subplot. Angela and Ainsley’s volunteer work at the nursing home finally pays narrative dividends during a casino day trip. Borrowing $10,000 from Tommy, Angela does the unthinkable, she wins. Big. Roulette and craps deliver a windfall exceeding $300,000, transforming a routine outing into a once-in-a-lifetime memory for the residents.
Even Margaret, whose recent tensions with her husband have weighed heavily, experiences a small rebirth after a simple makeover rekindles their connection. The casino becomes a symbol; not of excess, but of permission. Permission to hope, to risk embarrassment, to believe that joy can still arrive unannounced.
Angela embodies the episode’s central idea better than anyone. She commits fully, pushes all her chips forward, and accepts whatever outcome follows. When Tommy comes home to find stacks of cash waiting on the dinner table, even he can’t suppress his satisfaction. Perhaps T.L.’s earlier advice, to slow down, to reconsider, was never about avoiding risk, but about choosing the right kind.
T.L.’s own storyline opens the episode on a note of quiet devastation. Found sobbing in his pool after hours of being unable to climb out, Sam Elliott delivers a raw, restrained performance that lingers long after the scene ends. Yet Landman refuses to wallow. Instead, it pivots toward absurdity with purpose. Tommy hires Cheyenne, a pole dancer with no medical training, to serve as T.L.’s physical therapist.
Cheyenne improvises aquatic therapy, floating a nearly naked T.L. in the pool for hours. Neither knows what they’re doing but somehow, it helps. The scene captures Landman at its best: turning silliness into solace, humor into healing. One can only hope this unlikely pairing isn’t finished yet.
By the end of “Handsome Touched Me,” nothing has technically been resolved. The well hasn’t been drilled. The gamble hasn’t paid off or failed. And yet, everything feels different. Characters have revealed themselves through the risks they’re willing to take, and Landman once again proves that progress doesn’t always look like action.
Sometimes, it looks like belief and sometimes, belief is the riskiest investment of all.
Read more: Landman character theories
