‘Lincoln Lawyer’ antidote to Wolf procedurals
It’s good to be Michael Connelly at the moment. The author’s Harry Bosch novels have been adapted into a very successful TV series, ongoing with “Bosch: Legacy,” which recently premiered on Amazon’s free streaming platform Freevee.
And now his books about Mickey Haller, aka the Lincoln lawyer — a nickname derived from the character’s predilection for working out of his car; yep, a Lincoln — is getting the television treatment as well, this one for Netflix.
If Bosch is a noir bathed in the unrelenting Los Angeles sun, “The Lincoln Lawyer” is a different sort of LA story, one that’s snappier in approach and tone. There’s banter. And plucky music. But also plenty of solidly plotted storytelling and a character who takes his work seriously. Mickey may be sorting through some personal issues at the show’s outset — he has been out of commission for a year or so after an accident left him hooked on pain meds — but he’s not world-weary so much as appropriately cynical about the criminal justice system. After a stint in rehab, suddenly he’s back in the game with a full caseload when he inherits the law practice of a fellow criminal defense attorney who has been fatally shot. That means Mickey has an entire roster of new clients to manage, while also trying to figure out who killed his colleague, while also juggling two ex-wives, a teenage daughter and assorted other distractions — like whether his own life might be in danger now that he’s taken over the dead guy’s clients.
Legal dramas have long been a reliable staple in TV and film, but with a few exceptions, they haven’t fared especially well in
recent years. And yet “The Lincoln Lawyer” feels like it has real staying power. Both writer-producers David E. Kelley and Ted Humphrey are seasoned hands when it comes to this genre, and they’re not breaking new ground so much as providing an antidote to the overwhelming Dick Wolf-ification of the TV landscape. (All nine of Wolf ’s procedurals were renewed for next season.) By contrast, the cops in “The Lincoln Lawyer” are not portrayed as heroes. In fact, the opposite. And that feels like a breath of fresh air, even if one of Mickey’s clients is as smug and odious as it gets, which feels about right, too.
Believe it or not, “The Lincoln Lawyer” doesn’t need an actor with tremendous charisma to pull off the title role. That’s not
a critique of star Manuel Garcia-rulfo so much as an observation. It’s a low-key and not especially memorable performance, but he’s not boring either. His Mickey is pleasantly mumbly, with a hangdog mien that’s often crosscut with a don’t-underestimate-me swagger. In casting Mexican native Garcia-rulfo, the show subtly maintains a detail from the books, wherein Mickey’s mother is Mexican. The character is not one for office politics or law partner machinations, which is why he would never fit in at a larger firm. Mickey is smart, he has a conscience, and he’s distrustful of the police, qualities that make him a rarity among TV shows aimed at a broader audience these days.
It’s best not to think of
the 10-episode season in comparison with the 2011 Matthew Mcconaughey movie. Stylistically, the two have little in common. But this version remains a process story. Here, it’s the process of figuring things out: Who did what and why — and then putting a strategy in motion. Mickey is helped along by a close-knit crew that includes a bikerturned-private-eye named Cisco (Angus Sampson); Mickey’s delightful ex-wife Lorna (Becki Newton) who is also his office manager and biggest cheerleader; and Izzy (Jazz Raycole) as his driver and sounding board.
Why does Mickey need a driver? The reasons are convoluted now that he has a physical office that he inherited along with that caseload. With its dark wood-paneled walls and blinds on the windows, it’s a setting that says: This is where people roll up their sleeves and dig through paperwork. But Mickey says he thinks better when he’s in motion, and yes, he still owns a Lincoln in this adaptation. Actually, Lincolns plural.
Mickey’s other ex-wife is also a frequent presence in his life. Played by Neve Campbell, she’s a district attorney named Maggie Mcpherson, nicknamed Maggie Mcfierce (ugh), which is one of those details that doesn’t exactly track; she’s fairminded and wants to take down the bad guys and doesn’t really question the dysfunction of the system she’s working in, but no, she’s not fierce. That’s the thing about this show — it’s not that there aren’t mildly cringey elements to it, it’s that you’re willing to overlook them. Or at least, I am. Some people will watch “The Lincoln Lawyer” and think “No, absolutely not.” But the great Lisagay Hamilton shows up periodically as the presiding judge to supervise the transfer of Mickey’s cases and that in itself is reason enough to watch.
For the moment, shows about crime (violent or otherwise) are mostly told from the point of view of law enforcement and prosecutors, and it’s nice to see a series centered on a criminal defense attorney. Mickey is neither righteous nor scummy, which seem to be the only two lawyer characterizations Hollywood has of late. Certainly, AMC’S “Better Call Saul” aims for something more narratively complex and cinematically ambitious, but despite also featuring attorneys at its center, it doesn’t really have the rhythms or a cockeyed sense of enjoyment that defines the legal drama as a genre. “Better Call Saul” wants to be something else. Something deeper. So does “The Good Fight” on Paramount+. That’s fine. That’s great, actually. But “The Lincoln Lawyer” is a show that is unabashedly giving you another option: Our days are hard, and it’s OK to want TV to be easy. You don’t get more points in life if your viewing habits tend toward the prestige-ier side of the spectrum.
Is “The Lincoln Lawyer” bland? I dunno. Maybe? A little? I just don’t see that as a bad thing, because it’s also not fussy or overly cutesy. It avoids treating its characters as quirky confections, and instead treats them as adults you might actually meet in the real world.
“The Lincoln Lawyer” is pretty good and frequently satisfying. That’s more than I can say about a lot of television.