Texas is big. Nothing about it is quiet, subtle, or just fine — it’s bold, loud, and brimming with stories that beg to be told right. As “Landman” barrels into its sophomore season, the series swaps out Hollywood glitz for grit-soaked realism straight from the heart of the Lone Star State. Now, if you’ve wondered how the show pumps out scenes so authentic you can practically smell the diesel, you need to know Toni Brock and Sally Allen. Honestly, these two aren’t just casting directors — they’re Texas talent wranglers.
Meet the Queens of Local Casting
Let’s set the scene: It’s early 2025, production’s rolling into unseen corners of Texas, and Brock & Allen, with CVs packed with hits, are rolling deep into oil country. These two know every pothole from Weatherford to Cresson. They don’t just rely on agency headshots. Instead, Sally fires up her truck, Toni grabs her best boots, and off they go, looking for familiar faces in unfamiliar bars and behind every blue-collar jobsite gate.
What separates them from a regular casting office, you ask? It’s local flavor, with a twist of tenacity:
- They’re famous for “boots-on-the-ground” trips into actual oil worker hangouts in Jacksboro and Cresson (yes, both are key Landman filming sites).
- Their call sheets often read: “Own truck? Great. Know how to get oil out of your clothes? Better.”
- They chat up everyone — from high schoolers at the Sonic in Mineral Wells to retirees lingering near the pump jacks.
And they don’t just show up, snap a few Polaroids, and leave. No, they build real connections, learning who’s got the best drawl and who’s just faking it for free fried chicken.
Roughnecks and Locals: Not Just Extras — Real Texas Characters
For most productions, extras blend into the background like faded wallpaper. But Toni and Sally don’t play that game. They light up diner booths, scout rodeos, and waltz into tractor supply shops with a keen eye for authenticity. Their casting calls get hyper-specific: They look for roughnecks — guys with hands rough enough to sand drywall, who know a monkeyboard from a derrick.
There’s more. Look for faces in Landman’s second season that move the scenes beyond what a L.A. stand-in could fake. You’ll spot:
- Actual oilfield workers, with traces of real dirt caught under their fingernails.
- Local retirees playing — drumroll — local retirees, complete with stories about working rigs before safety harnesses were cool.
- Texas Christian University (TCU) students in campus crowd scenes. Brock and Allen held open calls on and around Fort Worth campuses, rounding out parties and campus drama with actual college energy.
And that’s just the start. They’ve also cast folks who run the retirement homes and fill the booths at the local breakfast spots, because nothing sells authenticity like casting someone who’s lived the life.
Casting Calls, Texas Style
Forget LA studio cattle calls. Here’s how the Brock and Allen method unfolds. First, they post in community Facebook groups and slap bold flyers in laundromats (we tracked these through local news and actual event posts from set in spring 2025). Then, they hold walk-in auditions at local high schools, VFW halls, and, for a particularly memorable round, at a Cresson oil equipment yard.
They ask questions the average casting director wouldn’t dream of, like: “How many carhartt jackets do you own?” or, “Ever fixed a rig during a spring storm?” You can’t fake that kind of resume.
Social buzz from set visitors says extras arrive with everything from tool belts to thermoses etched with rig maps. Sally described one local as “the best kind of grizzled,” while Toni grinned about an ex-foreman with a penchant for wild storytelling who ended up in a key background shot. Turns out, he’s got a following at the local bar too.
Building Real Community Ties
What happens when a big show rolls into a small town? Some folks get nervous. But Brock and Allen have turned it into a party. They talk to everyone: mayors, line cooks, the owners of tiny mom-and-pop shops, and even the delivery guys. They let the locals in on the production, making sure everyone feels included. Extras aren’t just there as set dressing; they show up, get to meet stars, and often stick around swapping stories about real oil patches and wild nights in the county seat.
Local businesses boom during filming weeks. Weatherford’s diners see lines out the door. Hardware stores see actors and crew alike stocking up, blurring the line between Hollywood and home. Cities post about increases in tourism spikes following key episodes that showcase their Main Streets. Townsfolk take pride in watching their neighbors on-screen, and Brock and Allen take pride in giving those moments back to the people.
Details That Make Landman Season 2 Impossible to Fake
What you see on the screen this season — grease-streaked overalls, dusty boots, battered Ford pickups covered in red dirt, proud TCU banners fluttering in the wind — all of it comes straight from the lives of those Brock and Allen brought in. When the camera pans across a yard full of workers, you’re seeing folks who’ve actually clocked shifts on rigs, not actors playing make-believe.
Plus, they coach the cast on local phrases. Want to get a “y’all” just right? Ask the guy who grew up yelling it over the roar of a pump jack. Sally even keeps a notebook of regional sayings, picking locals’ brains for anything that might jazz up the dialogue or background banter.
Challenges? Plenty. But Nothing They Can’t Handle
Of course, not everything is smooth as crude oil on a hot day. Scheduling gets tricky. Locals have jobs — some work nights on the rigs and drive in at dawn, all bleary-eyed, for early call times. And, sometimes, weather whips through and upsets the best planned shoot. Still, Brock and Allen wrangle it all, relying on backup options and plenty of strong coffee.
Respecting local life remains critical, too. Brock told a reporter in summer 2025 that “if you listen first, locals will take you seriously.” That’s the secret sauce — they don’t barge in; they collaborate.
Buzz, Backstage Stories, and On-Set Magic
Don’t be surprised if you spot familiar faces when Season 2 airs. The grapevine’s alive with tales of Weatherford high-schoolers bumping into major stars at the Dairy Queen and being roped into a lunchroom scene an hour later.
In June 2025, social media lit up with posts about a fifty-something retiree — previously a tool pusher — playing cards in the background of a tense oilfield showdown. He claims he didn’t even have to act: “I just played myself, mostly.” If you scroll X (formerly Twitter) during filming days, you’ll notice cast shout-outs to locals by name and lots of behind-the-scenes candids with extras and townsfolk.
Why This Labor of Love Works
Shows become memorable when they’re real. Brock and Allen don’t just fill space. They add soul — one handshake, one hearty Texas laugh at a time. Their work draws crowds, launches casual locals into brief stardom, and gives Landman the kind of lived-in, layered feeling that you can’t replicate on a Burbank backlot.
And now, that authenticity bleeds into every scene. Texas, with all its wild contradictions and dynamite personalities, steps into the spotlight with a cast of thousands, most of whom never dreamed of being on television.
The Big Takeaway: Texas, Front and Center
Let’s call it what it is: a bona fide Texas triumph. Thanks to Brock and Allen, “Landman” Season 2 doesn’t just show off Texas — it feels like Texas. Country grit, local quirks, real people, and stories straight from the backroads. When you watch this season, you’re not just following a plot. You’re stepping right up into a world that dances between fact and fiction, and Texas has never looked so good on screen.
So grab a sweet tea, kick up those boots, and settle in — you’re about to see what happens when local legend meets brilliant casting hustle. The credit? All goes to Toni Brock, Sally Allen, and the wild, wonderful faces of real Texas oil country.
