All Rise (2019) s03e05 – It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over

Last season we got a plot about Wilson Bethel’s relationship with Lindsey Gort getting unsteady as college crush Ryan Michelle Bathe started hanging around. It got very soapy. This season, it’s Simone Missick’s turn. And it again involves Bathe. She’s in L.A. (for the first time this season) with her new beau, Sean Blakemore. Blakemore was Missick’s college love, and he’s giving her feels.

Unfortunately, Blakemore’s not particularly charming, and he and Missick don’t have any chemistry, so she’s working overtime to sell it. It’s a waste of Bathe, who doesn’t get anything else to do in the episode, despite she and Gort presumably having law practice stuff to go over.

Most of the episode focuses on the cliffhanger trial. J. Alex Brinson is defending an accused murderer, Geoffrey Owens, against pal Bethel. The last episode ended with a double-DNA bombshell, which the opposing lawyers spend the runtime sorting out. Kind of. Bethel’s investigation keeps hitting convenient dead-ends, padding out the time until they can set up a second act surprise.

The other case is Jessica Camacho getting her first juvie case, defending a criminal TikToker, Kayla Maisonet.

The main case is mostly character development stuff for Brinson—they’ll probably spend at least a couple episodes repairing his relationships after his bombastic court performance—but it’s also a procedural for Bethel. An ongoing procedural. I can’t remember if “All Rise” has ever tried a more-than-two-parter arc, but apparently, they’re going for it now, halfway through their first streaming season.

The episode’s well-directed—Paul McCrane does a good job—but the script’s middling (Katrina O’Gilvie gets the credit). Between Missick’s character 180 on the college ex and the A-plot being constructed for multiple reveals, nothing else… well, it’s good the Camacho plot works out so well. Despite being third-billed, she feels like the fifth wheel this season since she’s no longer hanging around the halls of justice.

The juvie case, requiring her to learn new procedures and protocols, gives Camacho a nice professional arc. Especially as she bonds with Maisonet. Camacho’s really good this episode too. Maybe because she’s the only one not trying to force behaviors to fit the plot.

Also, good performances from Owens, Maisonet, Brinson, and Bethel. It’s nice to see Bathe back, but she’s got nothing to do.

All Rise (2019) s02e11 – Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Forgive Us Our Trespasses is the first “All Rise” since producer Warner Bros. fired creator Greg Spottiswood for being too racist and sexist, which doesn’t appear to have any bearing on the episode—unless it’s somehow in the subtext of Peter MacNicol’s arc about appearing to be profoundly biased against a Black defendant but really it’s because he’s got unresolved issues regarding his brother (MacNichol’s brother, not the defendant’s) since childhood, which only Simone Missick (making a return not just via Zoom but also on location three times) can help him resolve. But MacNicol’s arc doesn’t have much in the way of subtext.

The episode doesn’t have much in the way of subtext, with Missick having a mistaken information sitcom faux pas with Amy Gort and new partners Jessica Camacho and Samantha Marie Ware speaking in exposition dumps to one another the whole time, or J. Alex Brinson and Wilson Bethel having some frosty conversations because Brinson’s on a list of suspicious sheriff deputies. It’s all id, all the time this episode. It works for some of the story arcs, doesn’t work for most of them, works for some of the actors, doesn’t work for… well, it doesn’t work for Ware.

What’s weird about Ware and Camacho not clicking is it’s unclear if they don’t click or if they don’t click because of the script or even the direction. Paul McCrane kind of directs the hell out of the episode, but then also doesn’t. His two shots are great, letting the actors (even Ware) experience the other actors’ deliveries and react in time. But all the close-ups feel mawkish. The instincts are good, the results are not. Then again, might just be the way the script works. And also there’s always social distancing so it’s hard to get two shots.

Everyone in the regular cast—save an absent Reggie Lee—gets something to do this episode, to the point I couldn’t remember Audrey Corsa’s character’s name again. And I suppose all Ruthie Ann Miles gets is to send Ware off on her way in the first scene. The episode makes a good case for Ware’s character being the protagonist of the whole show, as she’s now on a presumably multi-episode arc of shadowing different people throughout the building. Unfortunately Ware’s mostly terrible so it’d be terrible but it makes narrative sense.

Anyway, there are subplots like Ryan Michelle Bathe and Wilson Bethel still feeling the shockwaves from their kiss—which has the added context they never actually dated in college and so all the previous flirtations and references to a relationship were just Bathe and Missick teasing Bethel? But then Lindsay Mendez starts a subplot about an abused kid, which turns out just be a craven gotcha for the audience.

“All Rise” is struggling, as it has this entire season, to get through lockdown, to get through Missick’s maternity leave. Can’t help having your creator and show runner be a piece of shit. Fingers crossed they make it, fingers crossed it gets back to being at least a showcase for its many good actors.

Lastly, the cliffhanger with Brinson confronting his cop buddies is terrifying and hopefully the show does right by him after putting him through a hellish arc.

All Rise (2019) s02e04 – Bad Beat

So the episode synopsis for Bad Beat said something about Lindsey Gort being missing and I got real hopeful she was leaving the show—the cast is way too big anyway and she’s obnoxious—but she gets back pretty quick. Wilson Bethel’s all worried about her but she just went to her place, which she’s been keeping through the pandemic because Bethel’s too good of friends with Simone Missick for Gort to commit to their relationship.

Gort’s worried Bethel’s going to sabotage his career by going after lying cops who framed someone. But it’s okay in the end because not only does Bethel have Steven Williams on his side—Williams gets a major sidekick demotion here—but also now Audrey Corsa. Corsa’s the assistant in the D.A.’s office whose been seeing J. Alex Brinson casually; she hates cops because her family is all cops and they gave her a “get out of jail free” white girl card she apparently used a lot and feels really bad about that privilege.

The episode’s got an interesting take on cops being shitty this episode because it seems like Missick’s finally going to realize her husband, Todd Williams, manipulates, coerces, and psychologically abuses people to get them to work for the FBI, not to mention boss Marg Helgenberger viciously using her position as judge to terrorize the marginalized and scared.

It’s all happy by the end of the episode or whatever but for a while it seems like “All Rise” might actually do some real character development, which would be particularly nice for Missick since her plot line this episode is basically being helpless because she’s pregnant (and tired all the time) and then something something with her impartiality or whatever.

It doesn’t matter. The legalese of “All Rise” is the most disposable thing about the show, which is saying something.

Brinson’s got a not bad subplot about how he doesn’t just want to throw more Black kids in jail. He tries talking to boss Reggie Lee about it, but Lee shuts him down (to later tell Brinson all he had to do was ask to talk to him about it). Jessica Camacho’s part of the Missick and Williams case, which she complicates because she’s waging war on the D.A.’s office. Unfortunately Tom Gallop’s a pretty weak foil as the A.D.A. she’s bickering with.

There’s a subplot about Lindsay Mendez palling around with Helgenberger and hustling the other judges for poker. It’s like they needed to use guest stars Paul McCrane (who also directed) and Peter MacNichol so they got to play in this pointless subplot.

Then there’s Samantha Marie Ware getting involved with Ruthie Ann Miles’s (entirely offscreen) love life problems; it’s almost like they’ve got way too many cast members and nowhere near enough story.

All Rise (2019) s01e17 – I Love You, You’re Perfect, I Think

Despite a forced start with Jessica Camacho and roomie and BFF Lindsay Mendez going hiking in some canyon before work and not finding a body, with some particularly forced angst from Camacho regarding boyfriend J. Alex Brinson declaring his love for her, the episode works out to be one of “All Rise”’s best.

Gregory Nelson’s script does a bit of a greatest hits tour through the show, making sure to give Simone Missick and Wilson Bethel banter and bickering banter to showcase the range of their characters’ relationship.

Nelson also takes the show seemingly new places—and revisiting some unfamiliar ones—the episode doesn’t just have a scene in the judges’ lounge, it also goes to the public defender office for the first time either ever or in a long while; the district attorney office is more familiar but rarely showcased as much as here. The show also figures out what to do with Audrey Corsa, now she and Brinson don’t seem to have a flirtation going. She’s a good sidekick for Bethel, who teaches her to be idealistic above all else in this episode.

Bethel’s got an innocent man to free, so lots of good white guy turmoil, while Missick’s got to deal with telling boss Marg Helgenberger what’s what as far as Helgenberger’s informal vetting.

The Missick and Helgenberger stuff turns out to be good, which is a surprise.

Then there’s a subplot with Peter MacNicol having to admit he’s capable of mistakes as an old white man, even means he has to respect young Latina women (in this case Mendez).

Paul McCrane (who does a fine job directing) is around a bit to spice things up.

Of course, the main plot is a soldier has PTSD so is he responsible for this assault, with Camacho as the defense attorney and Gavin Stenhouse as the accused. Stenhouse is pretty good. He’s able to make it work. Much better than when Camacho and Mendez have a really forced conversation about how much they support the troops.

Lots of big swings for the show—the PTSD of a soldier, Marg Helgenberger’s accountability arc, and the MacNichol having to admit his bias… and it does work out pretty darn well for the show. The episode successfully showcases the show at its best.

All Rise (2019) s01e07 – Uncommon Women and Mothers

Tony Denison is finally back. Not for very long in sort of a “let’s defer Tony Denison some more” way, but it’s nice he’s back. It gives second-billed but at least fourth in the show’s heart Wilson Bethel something else to do this episode besides prosecute extremely sympathetic non-binary young adult experiencing homelessness J.J. Hawkins for arson. “All Rise” quadruples down on the pronouns this episode and never makes a joke. It’s got slimy businesspeople respecting pronouns. Though this episode also has Black woman judge Simone Missick telling her mother, Black woman social worker L. Scott Caldwell to trust the system to do the right thing.

Because the system’s fine, it’s the people.

So… ew. Lots of optics here.

Missick also has to be contrite to boss Marg Helgenberger at one point… while reaffirming how much, as a judge, she loves the cops. So… double ew.

Thank goodness the show realizes Ruthie Ann Miles and Lindsay Mendez can be buddies and have hijinks, this time involving them both wanting to be fire warden. I hold the opinion all television programs ever could have their opening titles cut to the “Night Court” theme song, but rarely do I ever hear it so often as when “All Rise” is having its hijinks.

Oh, and assistant assistant D.A. Bethel does get to tell off boss Reggie Lee when Lee’s ranting about the dangerous homeless because before Denison became a bookie to the Russian Mob (based on this episode’s visual indicators), he and Bethel at one point lived out of their car. Though pretty soon Bethel met Missick and found a second, better parent in Caldwell. What’s funny about the show’s schmaltz is how it’s also visually soft and upbeat. If it had any grit or grain, it’d be an interesting contract. Instead, it’s like the show is…

Oh.

Yeah.

It’s wearing its safety pin.

But the cast. But for the cast. Seeing Missick and Bethel doing straight network drama is damned interesting, considering it’s not where their futures lie. At least not in an “All Rise”-type form.