This article originally appeared on Complex.com
Screened: Five episodes for review
Of all the questions posed by HBO’s Perry Mason revival, the biggest one of all seems to be “Just who is this for?” In the show’s initial batch of episodes, I’m not sure if I can definitively answer that question. The courtroom drama that made the Raymond Burr-led 1950s and 1960s version so infamous is largely unseen. In its place instead is a gritty crime drama that more resembles a 1930s version of True Detective than it does anything remotely close to what people remember of the Burr series. (That’s no accident: TD creator Nic Pizzolatto was initially attached to the project, with Robert Downey Jr. set for the lead role) While that approach is (admittedly) a smart way to bait the hook for new viewers, the result causes this version to trend all too familiar waters, despite stunning visuals and superlative performances—and lands it in a bit of a narrative no man’s land, unsure of where exactly it wants to go.
As showrun by Rolin Jones and Ron Fitzgerald, the HBO version of Perry Mason functions as an origin tale for the titular character. Far from the sterling lawyer we know him to eventually become, this younger Mason, played by Matthew Rhys, is a down-on-his-luck private investigator who spends his days working with his partner Pete Strickland (an always welcome Shea Whigham) to scrape together cash—most notably by taking photos of illicit sexual activities between motion picture studio stars—to keep him afloat after returning from World War I. His nights involve missing his son, boozing, and engaging in quite physical acts of intercourse with airplane pilot girlfriend Lupe (Veronica Falcón), whose neighboring airfield is increasingly encroaching on the familial Mason farm where Perry resides. His routine changes with the grizzly murder of Matthew (Nate Corddry) and Emily (Gayle Rankin) Dodson’s infant son Charlie, as Mason is contracted by attorney E.B. Jonathan (John Lithgow) to help ascertain what really happened to the young babe. Character actor Chris Chalk is also prominently featured in later episodes as Paul Drake—someone whom long-term Mason fans will certainly find exciting.
Between the murder itself, the dark tone, and the presence of a local megachurch headed by Tatiana Maslany’s Sister Alice, the aforementioned True Detective vibes become quickly apparent—for good and for ill. The crime noir element is one way to get new viewers attracted to its central mystery, but it also is afflicted with the bloat that comes with these types of shows. That is to say, even early on (I’ve seen five of the show’s total eight episodes) you can tell the creators are stretching out the plot for the sake of filling out an episode count. Fortunately, Perry Mason is lighter in tone than Nic Pizzolatto’s show has ever been, as Jones and Fitzgerald often temper the project with a comedic sense that’s a welcome respite from the show’s otherwise dour tones. Most of the Mason levity comes from the character’s interactions with Strickland and Lupe; the previously mentioned sex scene between Lupe and Perry is, ahem, rather hilarious in its actual execution, while the zippiness and gentle-ribbing of Strickland and Perry’s interactions play like your favorite buddy cop movie.
On the subject of Perry Mason himself, Rhys is, unsurprisingly, the show’s highlight. Fans of The Americans will know the actor was consistently phenomenal in his performance as tortured undercover KGB spy Philip Jennings. There’s certainly some overlap between that previous role and this new one, as both characters are filled with a lingering sense of melancholy over where life has taken their respective paths. As Mason, Rhys is absolutely electric, fully fleshing out a role that could have fallen short in the hand of another actor. Maslany is equally as kinetic once her Sister Alice enters the picture, getting to sink her teeth into a rather showy role. Mason’s other strength lies in its visuals as HBO directorial stalwart Tim Van Patten beautifully renders Depression-era Los Angeles. The production teems with life in a way that will be familiar to those who watched his many episodes of Boardwalk Empire. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge a captivating jazz score from Spike Lee collaborator Terence Blanchard in his television debut.
Perry Mason is one of those shows where you can fully understand why each creative choice was made. In 2020, reviving a long-storied franchise IP is one way to make sure your show gets the attention it might not get otherwise; applying a murder-mystery plot is a no-brainer for our true-crime obsessed culture; on and on it goes. It’s just a slight disappointment to see those choices add up to a project that just falls a little short, but who knows? Maybe the last three episodes will bring it all together.