The world of Taylor Sheridan’s cinematic universe is a complex tapestry woven with threads of power, family, and survival in the rugged landscapes of America. However, amid the critical acclaim and massive viewership, a recurring conversation has emerged regarding the portrayal and narrative trajectory of his female characters. This discussion has intensified with actress Ali Larter’s vocal defense of Sheridan, particularly as she steps into a prominent role in his latest series, Landman, while the controversial fate of Kelly Reilly’s iconic character, Beth Dutton, in Yellowstone continues to resonate with fans.

Ali Larter’s unwavering loyalty to Taylor Sheridan, despite what many perceive as a rocky track record with female arcs, has undeniably raised eyebrows. Her dismissal of criticism, stating it “doesn’t bother” her, strikes some as a potentially blind faith, especially in the wake of how Beth Dutton’s journey in Yellowstone unfolded. Beth, a character initially celebrated for her ferocious intellect, unyielding loyalty, and deeply scarred vulnerability, became a standard-bearer for complex female anti-heroes. Her sharp wit, business acumen, and raw emotional intensity—often stemming from profound childhood trauma—made her one of television’s most compelling figures. Yet, as Yellowstone progressed, a segment of its fervent fanbase expressed concern that Beth’s arc became increasingly reactive, her immense power often channeled primarily through her relationships with John Dutton or Rip Wheeler, rather than evolving independently. Some felt her character, initially multi-faceted and unpredictable, began to settle into predictable patterns, serving more as a plot device to provoke conflict or protect the family rather than pursuing her own, fully realized narrative. This perceived sidelining or reduction of such a formidable character only deepened the scrutiny of Sheridan’s approach to women in his narratives.

This context provides the backdrop for Ali Larter’s portrayal of Angela Norris in Landman. Larter, who embodies the “loud, glam, high-octane” Angela, has found herself directly addressing critics who suggested her character was over-the-top or one-dimensional. Her defense, articulated in interviews, highlights her belief in the intentionality behind Angela’s flashy exterior. Larter asserts that her character is designed to be a “storm tearing through the room,” an almost chaotic force whose glamorous facade belies a deeper, more relatable struggle. “She wants to be flashy in a bikini and be all hot, and then you see her crumbling trying to keep her family together… It’s very multi-dimensional, and that’s why it doesn’t bother me,” Larter explained, emphasizing the layers beneath Angela’s bold presentation. The opening FaceTime drama and her extravagant wardrobe, Larter revealed, were precisely what Sheridan envisioned, a deliberate choice to make Angela a captivating, almost overwhelming presence.

However, the question lingers: can “loud” and “bold” truly equate to “multi-dimensional” in a world where audiences crave genuine depth and sustained character development? The challenge lies in ensuring that Angela, like Beth before her, doesn’t ultimately become a caricature or an exaggerated force simply to drive male characters’ storylines. Sheridan’s universe, often lauded for its gritty realism and exploration of American masculinity, sometimes struggles to imbue its female characters with an equivalent level of nuanced agency outside of their relationships with men or their roles within a patriarchal family structure. While characters like Elsa Dutton in 1883 and Cara Dutton in 1923 have offered powerful, independent arcs, others in his extended universe, such as certain figures in Mayor of Kingstown, have faced similar criticisms of being underutilized or falling into archetypes.

Larter’s confidence in Angela’s depth stems, in part, from the character’s grounding relationship with Billy Bob Thornton’s Tommy. Larter and Thornton both emphasize that the chaotic, messy love between their characters is the anchor for Angela’s journey in Landman. Their dynamic, described as one where “love, even in Taylor Sheridan’s gritty oil-soaked world, is still king,” is meant to provide the emotional core that prevents Angela from being merely a flashy distraction. The actors diligently worked with all ten scripts upfront, ensuring no emotional beat was repeated, cultivating a raw and honest chemistry that grounds Angela’s wildness in a relatable human connection. This “messy, honest dynamic,” they argue, allows every fight and flirtation to circle back to an undeniable truth: they understand each other, however dysfunctional their interactions may appear. This relationship, Larter hopes, provides the very balance needed to elevate Angela beyond a one-note tornado to a character with genuine emotional stakes and internal conflict.

As Landman continues filming its second season, viewers are watching closely. The anticipation is not just for Ali Larter’s performance, but for the trajectory of Angela Norris’s character within Taylor Sheridan’s burgeoning empire. Can Angela maintain her initial powerful presence without becoming redundant, or worse, merely a storm that ultimately “fizzles out,” mirroring the concerns raised about Beth Dutton? The ongoing debate reflects a broader conversation in television about the creation and evolution of strong female characters: how to make them impactful, independent, and continuously engaging, avoiding the pitfalls of reducing them to mere plot devices or symbols. Ali Larter’s belief in Sheridan’s vision for Angela suggests a promising complexity, but the ultimate judgment will rest on whether Landman delivers a character arc that satisfies the audience’s hunger for depth, agency, and a truly multi-dimensional female presence, proving that loyalty to a creator can indeed yield powerful and enduring narratives for all its characters.