Magazine article The Spectator

CUL T U R E N O T E S Frontier Dreams

Magazine article The Spectator

CUL T U R E N O T E S Frontier Dreams

Article excerpt

When I was growing up, the Dallas theme tune was like a call to prayer.

A s the Copland-e sque t rumpet s rang out, we ran to the television set.

A hushed silence descended as cattle stampeded beneath the snazzy gold title credits. To watch the glamorous travails of the Ewing family from a so fa somewhere nea r Covent ry in the 1980s was to experience the very prom i se o f the age . E scapi sm , certainly. But Dallas was also about dreams. Frontier dreams.

That there was a place on earth where oil men in Stetsons plotted each other's downfall while slurping bourbon was too fabulous.

That these men were married to women with shoulder pads bigger than Darth Vader's was beyond inspiring if you were a kid growing up not in Midland, Texas, but in The Midlands, UK.

When CBS started repeating the iconic series ahead of the revival show, I became hooked aga in . …

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