Three years in the past, I championed HBO’s daring resolution to reinvent Erle Stanley Gardner’s iconic hero Perry Mason as a downtrodden, chronically rumpled gumshoe turned lawyer in Depression-era L.A. (Many viewers, and readers, disagreed, unwilling to desert the stalwart picture of Raymond Burr’s infallible, unflappable lawyer from the Fifties and ’60s, nonetheless a favourite in reruns.) As performed with forlorn pugnacity by Matthew Rhys, as if channeling the cinematic spirits of Bogart and Mitchum, the brand new/outdated Perry Mason felt like he match into the movie noir world of legends like Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe.
Perry’s first-season redemption arc made for compelling TV, however heavy-handed storytelling lets him down in Perry Mason’s long-awaited however disappointing comeback. Lured again to felony legislation to defend Latino brothers from a Hooverville slum being railroaded for the homicide of an oil-family scion, Perry enlists his lesbian companion Della Street (Juliet Rylance) and Black investigator Paul Drake (Chris Chalk) to cope with a number of layers of societal bigotry and corruption of their pursuit of what cynical, closeted D.A. Hamilton Berger (a sly Justin Kirk) calls “the illusion of justice.”
Merrick Morton/HBO
Here Berger is, elaborating to a sourpuss Perry: “Don’t you know what we’re selling by now? There is no true justice, there’s only the illusion of justice, the fantasy that keeps people believing that truth always prevails.” Though he stops in need of telling Perry “Forget it, it’s Chinatown,” when the disillusioned lawyer stalks off in disgust, Berger muses: “Does everyone feel Mason hates him, or just his friends?”
Fair level. Perry is a downer, dulling the requisite romantic subplot along with his estranged son’s instructor (Katherine Waterston, straining to appear attracted), which lacks a lot in the way in which of zing. (Della has tons extra enjoyable hanging out in secret bars together with her new squeeze, a bohemian scriptwriter colorfully performed by Jen Tullock.)
There are few surprises in a storyline the place wealth invariably connotes evil, which doesn’t excuse Perry from making a number of boneheaded strikes that imperil his legal-beagle future. A twist on the midpoint of the lengthy eight-episode season raises the stakes, however even the courtroom scenes are low in dramatic wattage on this dour David-versus-Goliath fable. I discovered myself pining for the nice outdated cornball days when a spectator within the gallery would immediately bounce up and announce their guilt, rattled by Perry’s wizardry.
Maybe the subsequent season, ought to there be one, may very well be all about Della, who not less than appears to be like jazzed about being in courtroom.
Perry Mason, Season 2 Premiere, Monday, March 6, 9/8c, HBO