As the temperature — and humidity — climb, the only real escape is the local multiplex, which offers industrial strength doses of air conditioning and the kind of nostalgia only Steven Spielberg can deliver. My fellow Gen-Xers and I have been keyed up for Super 8 for what seems like an eternity: it debuted at #1 and critics grant it “succeeds marvelously … with 12,000 watts of gut-rumbling Dolby sound.”
But I will avoid the most anticipated movie of the summer to stay true to one man: Eric Taylor.
Taylor is a small-town Texas high school football coach and the hero of NBC’s Friday Night Lights. The show is a television drama filmed like a documentary — shaky shots captured from odd angles make you feel like you’re eavesdropping on a small town’s dysfunctional relationship with the sport. That the actors are for the most part unknowns only confirms this illusion.
Then, in a preview for Super 8, I caught a glimpse of Coach Taylor in an unfamiliar uniform. He had the same furrowed brow and piercing hazel eyes I’ve come to know well, but he was wearing a sheriff deputy’s badge. Hold on, why would Coach be moonlighting as law enforcement? This is a guy I’ve watched get his players out of jail. I’ve seen him spar with referees, despair after a rough game, hold his baby daughter. Now I find out he’s got a son and lives in Ohio? Like Harry Potter performing on Broadway in his birthday suit, it just ain’t right.
I know, get real. The man’s name is Kyle Chandler (a fact that I grudgingly checked for this post) and he is an actor. But for me and for now, Friday Night Lights achieves those elusive goals all TV shows chase: it’s brought me inside a family and made me invested in its fate. That’s a relationship worth protecting. Although the series has wrapped, most of us are catching the final season airing on NBC through July 15. And I pledge to suspend my disbelief until the last possible second.
More Friday Night Lights: Listen to Kurt Andersen’s interview with Kyle Chandler’s co-star Connie Britton.
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