When I surprised the person with whom I watch TV with the first episode of season two of Perry Mason, they simply said, “I forgot about this show”. I won’t lie, I did too. After all, season one premiered all the way back in June 2020, nearly three full years ago. And given everything that’s occurred between then and now, three years kind of feels like thirty. With that in mind, it’s fair to state that Perry Mason faces an uphill battle to regain its past renown with its second season. Not only that, but its original showrunners, Rolin Jones and Ron Fitzgerald, exited the series and were replaced by Jack Amiel and Michael Begler (The Knick). Needless to say, like its titular character with his cases, this show was really up against it.
Perry Mason picks up six months after season one, with Perry and his legal aide, Della Street (Juliet Rylance), now working civil cases instead of criminal ones. The cause of this sudden switch doesn’t really matter, though, since Perry is quickly drawn back into criminal litigation when he’s approached to represent the Gallardo brothers, Mateo (Peter Mendoza) and Rafael (Fabrizio Guido). They’ve been accused of murdering Brooks McCutcheon (Tommy Dewey), the son of millionaire oil magnate Lydell McCutcheon (Paul Raci). With such a prominent victim comes a showcase trial, and District Attorney Hamilton Burger (Justin Kirk), close friend of Perry and Della, intends to make his mark with it. Of course, things aren’t quite as they seem, so Perry enlists Della and investigator Paul Drake (Chris Chalk) to help him uncover the truth and win a seemingly unwinnable case.
Before I delve into specific pros and cons, I think I should iterate that my primary critique of season one remains unchanged with season two: HBO’s Perry Mason doesn’t feel very Perry Mason-y. If you’re a fan of either Erle Stanley Gardner’s novels or Raymond Burr’s television series and movies, then you know exactly what I mean. Gone are the days of the case-of-the-week installments and the calm-yet-intense Perry Mason that Burr so expertly portrayed. Instead, we now have eight-episode story arcs that are more noir mystery than courtroom drama, and a protagonist that behaves more like another iconic character that shares his initials, Philip Marlowe. Part of me thinks that these changes are a step in the right direction, and that modern audiences demand this sort of nuanced content. Another part of me thinks that the creators should’ve just come up with their own characters and called this something else. It’s sometimes difficult for me to reconcile those opposing thoughts, but it is made easier by the fact that HBO’s show is pretty good regardless of what it’s called.
Season two of Perry Mason continues to benefit from its strongest assets, its talented actors and the lived-in characters they play. Matthew Rhys again leads this talented cast as Perry, and he continues to be terrific. His version of the character is similar to Burr’s in regard to integrity, but refreshingly different in most other ways. He’s certainly less polished and more prone to mistakes, which comes into play and shakes things up more than once this season. More interestingly, Rhys’ Perry continues to be a walking-talking contradiction. In some moments, he’s a seemingly jaded cynic who’s even willing to bend the law if it benefits his clients. In others, he’s a self-righteous crusader whose belief in law and order is unflappable. If nothing else, these hypocrisies make his version of the character feel truer to life. And most cleverly, his opinions and actions line up with one of the main questions posited in season two: if each individual defines justice in their own unique way, how can there ever be true justice at all?
Perry’s trusted associates are similarly well written and performed. I’m specifically a fan of Chris Chalk as Paul Drake, whose struggles as a black man in 1930s Los Angeles are chronicled with a deft touch. It’s really satisfying to watch Paul shrug off racist remarks and side-eyed glances as he roots around in a white man’s world.* I did wish that he had more to do at times, but Chalk was always fantastic. And then there’s Juliet Rylance, whose dignified and elegant performance as Della juxtaposes so well with the tough guys around her. As great as she is, her side story falters more than any other. Mainly, Della is shown in a burgeoning romance with Anita (Jen Tullock), a fellow lesbian who’s freer and more comfortable with her sexuality. It’s not that these scenes with Della and Anita are horrible in any way; it’s that they keep Della from having a more proactive and useful role in the investigation and trial, at least for most of the season. A suggestion to the writers: maybe don’t point out that there’s no time to waste in regard to the case and then immediately show Della head off on a romantic getaway to Palm Springs. It doesn’t paint her in the best light.**
While the acting and character work is nearly always top notch, the investigation and legal stuff is more of a mixed bag. On the whole, the mystery surrounding the murder of Brooks McCutcheon is intriguing, but it takes entirely too long to get going. And once it finally does, it becomes rather apparent that the writers are stretching out four episodes of whodunit into eight. Sure, Perry and Co. help the Gallardo brothers every episode, but they never forget to check in on their aforementioned relationships or trespass on a racetrack to check out a prized horse. To be fair, not all of this obvious filler is without utility. Some of Della’s scenes illuminate who Camilla Nygaard (Hope Davis) is as a person, which is important given her rivalry with Lydell McCutcheon. It’s not the most exciting stuff, but Davis and Rylance work well together. Other scenes offer insight into what Hamilton or Strickland (Shea Whigham) are up to on the other side of the bench. I always welcome a check-in with Strickland, as he’s assuredly the most authentic-feeling 1930s character on the show. Still, I often found myself wondering: when is the criminal case, the thing we all tuned in to see, going to take center stage in the proceedings?
To answer that question, the case finally takes over in the last few episodes, and what episodes they are. It’s quite gratifying when all of the intermittent investigative scenes and mundane subplots with potential suspects coalesces into a complete picture. It’s even more gratifying watching Perry and Della take advantage of what they’ve discovered to form shocking reveals in the courtroom, all the while making the pompous Assistant DA look like a complete knob. All of these engaging court sequences are further boosted by the presence of the ornery but open-minded Judge Durkin, played masterfully by season two MVP Tom Amandes. All in all, the final three episodes or so are exactly what Perry Mason fans want to see, and they justify the extended time spent on the lead-up, or at least they did for me. I just wish that these courtroom scenes were distributed more evenly throughout the season.***
At the end of the day, whether or not you’ll enjoy season two of Perry Mason comes down to your patience for slow-building, character-driven television. This is nothing like the olden days, and while that means there’s fewer thrills-per-minute, it also means that there’s more time to develop Perry, Della, Paul, and the villains. The cons to this are obvious, but the pros mostly outweigh them. I say “mostly” because you do have to wait a good deal before it all comes together and means something, and I wouldn’t blame you if you’d rather not wait. If that’s the case, well, there are like 300 Raymond Burr episodes to get lost in.
If I had to score it, I’d give season two of Perry Mason a 7/10.
Notes:
* Having Paul care little about racist remarks provides a dual benefit. One, it feels more realistic. If a black man in 1934 got combative toward every racist he encountered, he’d never get anything done. Two, and this plays off the first point, since Paul never allows himself to be victimized, he maintains his agency. This keeps his subplot moving forward, and thusly, it always feels vital to the story.
** The same also goes for Perry, whose relationship with Ginny (Katherine Waterston) also distracts from the life-or-death case. [Minor Spoiler] Also, speaking of Della not being shown in the best light, I didn’t like how her affair with Anita goes mostly unpunished. Sure, Della’s partner Hazel (Molly Ephraim) briefly calls out her adultery, but there needed to be more. Without it, it sort of felt like the writers were saying, “Hazel is boring and familiar; Anita is edgy and new, so this is all okay.”
*** I really appreciate how modern-day viewpoints on race and wealth don’t domineer this season’s legal case. After all, with the Gallardos being poor Mexican-Americans and the McCutcheons wealthy white folk, there’s a safe and predictable path for Amiel and Begler to take. I’m not saying they don’t, and I’m not saying they do. I’m just saying that whatever direction they chose, it’s not as heavy-handed as one might expect nowadays.
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