Don’t underestimate this surprisingly sharp reboot

Millennials may be the last generation to feel nostalgic for NBC MatlockTV’s answer to the question “What if Colonel Sanders was also Hercule Poirot?” — so much so that they might feel compelled to give CBS’ new reboot a shot this month. Whether or not that’s wise advice, well, we’ll get to that.

For now, let’s reflect on those dinner visits with our saintly grandparents, where we were first introduced to Ben Matlock (played by Andy Griffith), that penny-pinching lawyer who made his way through his tabloid world of murder and other crime . of passion in that wrinkled gray suit. If we ate our vegetables by the second commercial break, we might get some ice cream as old Ben revealed a key piece of evidence in that final moment of interrogation. Faces smeared with chocolate, we watched as the Yuppie/killer-of-the-week was reduced to a stained mess, confessing his crimes either in anger or regret to a stunned courtroom audience. Bellies full, justice done, credits.

Matlock he knew what it was: prime-time junk food. A rhythm of dastardly murders and rustic punishments, delivered by an aging TV titan, quickly established itself. (Creator Dean Hargrove al Perry Mason TV movies and Columbo would repeat this formula as a producer for Diagnosis: murder.) Despite this light-hearted approach to the material, full of sex, stabbing and notions of jurisprudence, the series had a certain popular charm that contributed greatly to its extended run from 1984 to 1995 on NBC and ABC. Still rubbish Matlock it remains, stupid and sly and oh-so-wonderfully trashy. Any prestige attributed to it comes entirely from nostalgia. This explains why the higher-ups at CBS chose a rickety star vehicle as the subject of their latest over-the-top makeover; they believe that brand plays a role in why people decide to adapt these days. Maybe they are right.

Fortunately, the CBS update a Matlocka new courtroom drama Jane the Virgin creator Jennie Snyder Urman, has more to offer than just nostalgia. It shares a similar empty-calorie appeal to its progenitor, while being a somewhat sharper and more nuanced affair with conscientious insights into justice and age. It also has an ace-in-the-hole in Oscar winner Kathy Bates, who plays Madeline “Matty” Matlock, a 70-plus-year-old widowed retiree who returns to the legal workforce only to be undervalued by his colleagues. despite her fierce desire for justice. (At 76, Bates may be half a decade older than Griffith when she retired the character, but her vigor revolves around old Ben.) “When women get old, we become damn near invisible.” , she informs a room full of beats. -lawyers with power. “It’s useful because no one sees us coming.”

There’s great appeal in watching Matty take full advantage of people’s perception of her, and Bates is predictably wonderful in the role, swinging from feisty biddy to vengeful crusader and back again in a second. She gives a charisma overload to a show that needs her. The series’ lawyer-chic design is generic even by the network’s standards, and while the diverse and appealing supporting cast stands out, few of these players can match Bates’ bravado. Urman seems aware of this, so Matty spends more time with her younger cohorts, dealing with the obvious generational gaps and their subsequent blunders, rather than legalese and jargon, at least through much of the first six episodes set available for review. It’s a shame to watch the star of Mess and Richard Jewell commanding a courtroom, in the rare times it happens, is something to behold.

While the overall structure of Matlock 2024 it is similar to the original recipe MatlockUrman is too cautious in separating the two. In a meta twist, Matty acknowledges the existence of the Griffith series and occasionally uses its theme song for comic effect, a bit of workmanlike humor meant to deflect the inevitable comparisons made by salty types who overestimated the quality of the original series. The comedy in this is obvious and tiresome: Matty introduces himself through the office – “Matlock, like in the TV series!” – to which her fellow Gen-Zers promptly reply, “What TV show?”

The joke gets several repetitions, with Bates exploiting each one as if having to evoke Griffith, a self-inflicted social obstacle, causes him physical pain. (It definitely made us groan.) And even though it’s a star vehicle for Bates, Matlock it exists because of its name. (Though there’s a dramatic reason for Matty’s use of it, we’re forbidden from revealing why.) Yet he also feels self-conscious about being associated with the legacy of the classic show.



If nothing else, the series’ energy is in the right place. The pilot of the reboot, directed by Kat Coiro of She-Hulk: Lawyerit sets a bracing pace that eases the viewer as the show finds its own Matlock rhythms. Before the first commercial break, Matty infiltrated the elite law firm Jacobson Moore, landed a position, and threw herself into her first case. The show also doesn’t linger when it comes to establishing its fresh cast. There’s Olympia (Skye P. Marshall, who is terrific), a dynamic attorney with a heart for the underrepresented, and the daughter-in-law of Senior (Beau Bridges), the firm’s vintage managing partner. Olympia has a pending divorce from Senior’s son Julian (Jason Ritter), which means her flirtations with partner Elijah (Eme Ikwuakor) must remain quiet. Less sketchy are Billy (David Del Rio) and Sarah (Leah Lewis), Olympia’s legal beagles, who are handy to have around during the show’s weekly chats on the company’s Crying Balcony, but they’re mostly there to escape every time Matty leaves. -reserve or to reiterate the stake when needed.

Speaking of stake New Matlock are surprisingly more honest than the emotional pace of the original series, and Urman’s series also stands out for the pain it portrays, contrasting the original Reagan/Bush/Clinton-era sis-boom-bah rule with the post-Covid today. -opioid-crisis malaise. Matty is not just looking to “make it rain” financially through corporate legal work, but to pay off her late husband’s gambling debts, raise her orphaned teenage grandson, and make herself useful to younger clients who sometimes , they remind her of her daughter, who died after years of battling drug addiction. You’d never see Ben Matlock cry vulnerable to his peers or be subjected to such upsetting material. Matty Matlock shows up with her heart on her sleeve and a few more secrets weighing her down.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, in the show’s more tender moments, Bates and her cast mates come together in an endearing ensemble that could easily lead to multi-season comfort food entertainment. (From her side, Bates said Matlock it’s “her last dance” and as for future seasons, the jury is still out.) When Matlock it uses the comfortable formula of Griffith & Hargrove and shows its truest signs of life. Of course, there are the requisite sequences where Matlock reveals overwhelming evidence before the end credits. It’s a nod to TV tradition and even when Matlock overcomplicate this time-tested material with additional piles of dramatic schmaltz as the season wears on, one thing remains clear: there’s still room on television for old-timers like Bates to develop their talents, reminding us that age isn’t in no way a diminution of us. appeal.

Matlock premieres September 22 on CBS