If you’ve ever felt your pulse race during an episode of “Landman,” don’t just credit the actors or Taylor Sheridan’s gritty writing. Right behind those scenes, there’s a wizard splicing together shots, breathing fire and life into every oil-soaked minute. That person? Editor Chad Galster. The man doesn’t just edit; he engineers tension with a blade and a keyboard, and he’s been sharpening TV storytelling long before “Landman” powered up its drills.
How Chad Slices — And Dices — For Maximum Drama
Editing isn’t just about lopping off the boring bits. Not when Galster’s in the booth. He talks about pacing like a composer talks about tempo. And no surprise — he’s got a classical music background. It isn’t just trivia; it’s the very backbone of his cutting style. He once told Boris FX, “The loud is only loud if you’ve had something soft before it.” So his episodes pulse and breathe. You get those wild, roaring moments — an oil rig blowout; maybe Tommy Lee Jones barking orders — and then, wham, silence. The kind that makes your palms sweat.
Let’s break down the tricks he’s wielding every episode:
- Meticulous pacing (soft, then loud)
- Strategic use of silence
- Quick jump cuts for emotional jolts
- Collaboration with the show’s creative minds
- Obsessive attention to authentic Texan detail
So while other editors might gloss over the nuances, Galster pounces on them. He forces you to hang on every glance, every pause.
Jump Cuts and Fast Switches: Why Galster Never Lets You Get Comfortable
This isn’t your granddad’s oil drama. Galster’s favorite technique is the jump cut. Forget the classic, slow cross-fade. Galster’s editing feels more like a jackrabbit — always darting, never predictable. He uses jump cuts to leap from one shot of tension to another, making you feel the twitchy anxiety of “Landman’s” West Texas universe.
He describes it simply: “You cut from energy to energy, not geography to geography.” That’s how, in a single episode, a tense, clunky oil rig sequence can suddenly give way to a close-up of Billy Bob Thornton’s tight-lipped resolve. And the energy doesn’t stop. Your heart barely has time to catch up before, bam, you’re off to the next crisis.
You can see how this technique pays off whenever disaster strikes on the rigs — there’s gritty chaos, peril, and you can almost feel the heat radiating off the screen. Fans on social media — especially those on Threads and X — have praised the “propulsive editing” in the first season’s most chaotic set pieces. Many even pointed out that “no TV show has made West Texas look so heart-pounding.” That’s Galster’s hand, steady on the throttle.
Silence Isn’t Empty — It’s a Loaded Gun
But here’s what really sets “Landman” apart in this TV landscape filled with blaring soundtracks and bombastic dialogue: silence. When things get too hot, Galster strips down the audio. That’s right, he’ll kill the music, the background noise, even the breathy hum of natural gas engines, leaving the audience alone in a bubble with a character’s deepest fears.
In one of the show’s most talked-about moments, all the sound falls away except for the protagonist’s ragged breaths. That move — it’s deliberate. Galster pointed out that letting silence ring out in the right spot pulls viewers into the story and doesn’t let them go. Audiences aren’t just watching — suddenly we’re wondering what comes next, our imaginations filling the gap. The silence becomes suffocating, and then, just when you can’t take another beat, Galster throws you back into the noise. That, folks, is editing as drama.
Working Side-by-Side with Taylor Sheridan
Great editing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Galster and series creator Taylor Sheridan? They’re not just colleagues — they’re creative partners. You can tell. Sheridan brings that ferocious energy to his writing, painting Texas oil country with dust, greed, and heartbreak. Galster is the one who trims the fat, giving each beat its own punch.
He talks about developing a “shorthand” with Sheridan after their years working together (and yes, that history traces all the way back to “Yellowstone”). According to PostPerspective, Sheridan trusts Galster to take risks, hold shots just long enough, or snap them off before the drama gets stale. This teamwork means the show never lags, never lets up. Everything you see is weighed, measured, and then delivered with polish — Texas roughness, but with diamond-hard precision.
The Real Texas — No Hollywood Gloss
Here’s something else. Galster’s cuts bring authenticity. Fans want dust, sweat, and actual Texas grit — not just pretty actors in nice hats. That’s why he sneaks in small, unpolished moments: a worker pausing to mop his brow, a half-heard joke crackling on a CB radio, the nervous glance before someone says something dumb at a pump station meeting.
Christian Wallace, the show’s writer and a real West Texan, has said that honesty drives every story choice. Galster jumps on that. And it’s not just to show off for critics. Real drillers have even chimed in on social (yep, real landmen) saying, “Finally, a show about the patch that gets the little things right.” They notice, and so do we.
Sound: Sometimes Louder Than a Gusher
Galster doesn’t just cut visual footage. He plays with noise — layering and sculpting sound until it’s just as sharp and tense as the picture. An oil rig hum might underlie an entire scene, building unease. Or sometimes, he’ll throw in the sudden screech of a metal pipe to rattle nerves.
Music? It’s almost a character in itself, but Galster’s mantra is never to let music take over. The score pulses when it should but never drowns out dialogue or the mechanical thump of the drilling rigs. Again, it’s that classical musician’s sense of balance. The peaks hit harder if the valleys are deep.
Fans and journalists noticed this during the series premiere. Reviewers called the editing and sound “anxiety-inducing, in the best way”—a fitting tag for a show about living and dying by what’s under your feet.
The Difference Is in the Details
So what makes Chad Galster’s editing so hard to shake? Let’s count the ways — and the little touches fans spotted:
- Slow-motion shots ramp up big moments and let us process every detail before the chaos breaks loose.
- Micro-cuts on an actor’s face capture every flicker of doubt or greed. No emotion gets wasted.
- Layered transitions show multiple storylines colliding — so you feel the pressure mounting from all sides.
- Holding on scenery just a breath longer makes Texas a living, breathing character — sprawling and merciless.
And there’s the magic. The editing isn’t invisible. You’re meant to feel it, chew over it, get tangled up in it.
Fans and Buzz — Is It Working?
Let’s not forget the fandom. Since the “Landman” teaser first dropped, editing has been a hot social topic. X (once Twitter) lit up with viewers dissecting the oil rig disaster montage in episode two—“fast, choppy, brutal, perfect,” as one poster said. On Reddit, threads keep popping up, singing the praises of those eerie silences that hang like a Texas summer. One user nailed it: “Chad Galster makes waiting for the next scene feel like holding your breath near an open flame.”
Industry pros noticed too. Editing blogs and podcasts cite Galster’s episodes as must-watch-in-film school material. For fans, that means “Landman” raises the bar, episode after episode.
Last Call at the Editing Suite
Every Texas legend needs a truth-spinner. For “Landman,” Chad Galster’s the chief snake-oil man — but what he’s selling is pure, distilled storytelling gold. He can make a phone call feel like a showdown. Or conjure up dread from the simple sweep of a pumpjack’s arm. Tight editing isn’t just his skill — it’s the fuel that keeps this TV engine thumping.
So next time you’re glued to the screen, knuckles white during a tense negotiation or a midnight emergency out in the oil fields, tip your hat to the editor. Galster’s precision splicing turns rough footage into white-hot drama, every time. And really, isn’t that the wildest ride in the Lone Star State?
