If you grew up anywhere between the late 50’s and the mid-1990’s, you’ve probably at least heard of Perry Mason. A television series on CBS from 1957-1966 featured a brooding, handsome Raymond Burr, taking on seemingly hopeless cases, often people falsely accused. Burr’s Mason would defend his client via offense: he would often manage, in the course of the fictional trial, to elicit a dramatic confession from another character. This plot element became familiar to the point that it was the object of affectionate teasing—see Gary Larson’s The Far Side cartoon, in which a cow stands up in the back of a courtroom to confess, dramatically, to an unspecified crime. From 1985 to 1995, NBC brought the fictional lawyer back to television screens, and Raymond Burr, heavier and older, reprised his role. The show made you root for the accused, and it made full use of the dramatic possibilities of the courtroom. It likely inspired an entire generation of lawyers, however tenuous its grasp on the way the American system actually works might be.
HBO recently launched its own of the series, with The Americans veteran Matthew Rhys taking over the title part as a relatively young Mason, a Perry still working as a low-rent private eye in Depression-era Los Angeles. It’s California, it’s 1932, and HBO has not spared the budget to bring us rich period details of a difficult time in American history.
Reviews of the series have been mixed. James Poniewozik of The New York Times found the reboot an expensive, fairly tiresome exercise in detective noir cliché. Sophie Gilbert, of The Atlantic, found this new Perry Mason depressing and dark without reason. Rebecca Nicholson of The Guardian found the first episode of the series watchable enough, even compelling, if a bit gruesome.
Personally, I found all eight episodes of the series enormously entertaining. The series does take a little while to gather steam, as the expression goes. The cast is large; the mystery at the heart of all eight episodes complex. But as the series continued, it became gradually more and more compelling to me. Yes, the series is definitely dark and depressing, and more than occasionally quite violent. Fans of the 1997 surprise hit L.A. Confidential may notice as many visual to that piece of classic crime film as they do the TV source material. But Rhys—as Mason— is charming; Juliet Rylance makes for a compelling reconception of Della Street, who is now explicitly a lesbian for the benefit of a 2020 audience. John Lithgow plays an aging lawyer and Mason’s mentor, and I found the character a fascinating study in aging, twisted integrity, and a perverse joy in professionalism. The story revolves around an early form of mass-media religiosity, a radio church that offers hope to the American masses in the middle of a devastating economic depression.
The series is unapologetically American, taking on American social demons such as racism, misogyny, and religiosity with unflinching eyes. Many of the series metaphors revolve around forcing us to look; a murder victim’s eyes have been sewn open, rather than closed. It’s as if the show creators want its primarily American audience to confront what the country was, even in 1931-32, so as to better understand what it is today.
ESL learners might find the show of particular interest; the dialogue is not particularly difficult. The only minor challenge might be slightly archaic syntax and a period-appropriate (older style) slang.
by Nathan R. Elliott
i. Review: Perry Mason Returns, Hard Boiled and Warmed-Over. June 18th, 2020, The New York Times. 7 mins. Intermediate.
ii. The Conundrum of a New Perry Mason. June 25th, Intermediate. June 25th, 2020, The Atlantic. 7 mins. Advanced.
iii. Perry Mason Review: sleuth reboot is stunning, intense—and gruesome. June 22nd, 2020. 5 mins. Intermediate.