If you think oil drilling is just gritty boots and black gold, think again. Landman, Taylor Sheridan’s latest powerhouse, proves the real treasure lies in how it’s all filmed. The show’s cinematography doesn’t just capture Texas; it practically bottles its spirit, shakes it up, and pours it straight onto our screens.
The Visionary Eye: Robert McLachlan’s Magic
First things first, let’s talk about the man steering the visual ship — Robert McLachlan. If his name rings a bell, that’s because he’s worked magic on Game of Thrones and Ray Donovan. With Landman, he brings that same cinematic flair, but this time, he trades dragons and gritty city streets for sun-scorched plains and oil rigs.
McLachlan doesn’t just point the camera and hope for the best. Instead, he meticulously crafts each frame to mirror the wild energy and silent desperation of West Texas. His ability to balance sweeping beauty with intimate moments keeps Landman looking like a $100 million blockbuster, even when it’s just two characters arguing over land rights.
Sunbaked Dreams: A Color Palette that Sings
Color isn’t just color in Landman; it’s practically another character. The show’s palette sticks close to the earth — dusty oranges, faded browns, and tired yellows.
Why? Because that’s Texas. It’s not polished. It’s raw, weathered, and beautiful in a way that sneaks up on you.
McLachlan keeps the oilfields warm and rugged, almost like they’re always holding onto the heat of the day. But when the action shifts indoors — especially into the cold, gleaming offices of M-TEX Oil — everything changes. Suddenly, blues and grays take over. Walls and desks almost hum with sterility.
This contrast isn’t accidental. It sharpens the divide between the roughnecks sweating it out in the fields and the executives cutting deals in air-conditioned boardrooms.
Big Skies, Bigger Stakes: Framing That Feels Alive
If you love a good wide shot, Landman will spoil you rotten.
McLachlan lets the landscapes breathe. Massive skies stretch over fields cluttered with nodding donkeys and pipes. Workers seem like ants under that huge, unforgiving sun. It’s beautiful and a little terrifying all at once.
Yet he’s just as clever when the frame tightens. Close-ups zoom right into the weather-beaten faces of oil workers, catching every grimace and smirk. Boardroom scenes tighten even more, framing characters like caged animals sizing each other up.
The way Landman swings between big vistas and tight spaces keeps the tension alive. It’s a visual reminder that in this world, you’re either dwarfed by the land or trapped by ambition.
Straight from the Source: Authentic Texas Locations
Forget fake backlots. Landman rolls up its sleeves and heads straight into real Texas.
Key locations include:
- Fort Worth, Texas: The true heartbeat of the show, adding authenticity that green screens simply can’t fake.
- American Association of Professional Landmen Headquarters: Perfect for scenes where the business side of oil gets deadly serious.
- Fort Worth Petroleum Club: Where deals are made, alliances forged, and champagne flows like crude.
- Texas Christian University: Bringing a touch of humanity to characters otherwise drowning in oil and ambition.
Because Landman roots itself in actual places, it feels lived-in. Not staged, not polished — real. And you can almost taste the dust and diesel in every scene.
Old West Spirit, New West Swagger
Sheridan knows his Westerns, and McLachlan clearly does too.
The DNA of classic Westerns runs deep in Landman. Long takes, natural light, and a love affair with vast horizons scream “cowboy cinema.” But here’s the twist: it’s all been updated.
Where old Westerns might linger lovingly on a lone rider, Landman might whip the camera around a booming oil rig or track a beat-up pickup down a dusty road. It’s kinetic, thrilling, and a little dangerous — just like the characters themselves.
By balancing the slow-burn beauty of old Westerns with the pulse of modern thrillers, Landman creates a unique flavor all its own.
The Final Reel: Why Landman’s Visuals Matter
Sure, Landman boasts a killer cast and sharp writing, but its cinematography makes it unforgettable.
Robert McLachlan’s camera work doesn’t just show Texas; it feels Texas. Every color choice, every sweeping frame, every claustrophobic close-up tells you something about the characters and their world.
It’s a reminder that the best stories aren’t just told — they’re shown. And when they’re shown this beautifully, you can’t help but get pulled in, boots and all.
