All Rise (2019) s03e10 – Fire and Rain

There is more “All Rise” coming. While the OWN website says it’s a ten-episode section season, IMDb has all the titles for next season, whether it’s a three and a half or a four. I’m fascinated by the show’s production timelines, going back to the end of first season when Covid-19 lockdown changed the show’s trajectory.

So, whether it’s the end of season three or season three, part one, Fire and Rain is a great episode. It’s probably “All Rise”’s best episode. Technically speaking, it’d be hard to beat, and they’ve never done anything like this one before.

Showrunner Denitria Harris-Lawrence directed last season’s finale too, which at the time was the show’s finale, but it was nothing like this episode. This episode’s an action suspense thriller, with TikTok terrorist Nick Fink threatening to loose his mob on the courthouse. His scumbag sidekick, a perfect Josh Gilmer, is loitering around the courthouse to intimidate witness Olivia Aguilar.

Now, Jessica Camacho is encouraging Aguilar to testify, sort of as a favor to Wilson Bethel, even though U.S. attorney Nitya Vidyasagar is offering a better deal. So Camacho has stuck her neck out. It’d be terrible if something went wrong, like Ronak Gandhi screwing up some paperwork and it causing a disastrous continuance.

Of course, Sean Blakemore is defending Fink, and it’s in Simone Missick’s courtroom. So even though the episode opened with some very sexy marital canoodling for Missick and Christian Keyes—another series first, man-buns—there’s a lot of tension later on. Especially after Blakemore reveals he’s using their chemistry to manipulate her; it’s easily Blakemore’s best episode on the show and arguably his only good performance of the role so far.

Then there are the relationship troubles for Wilson Bethel and Lindsey Gort. She’s not telling him the real reason she doesn’t want to get married, and every time it seems like they’re going to have it out, Bethel needs another scene where Ian Anthony Dale yells at him. Dale’s performance is a little shaky this episode; he’s not believable as a yelly boss anymore, not after his party bro dream version a couple episodes ago.

Lindsay Mendez helps Gandhi try to repair the damage to the case, while J. Alex Brinson mostly offers support for Camacho. As for Camacho, who isn’t one of the cast members primed for an exit even though she’s never gotten an office this season… I really hope she’s back. She’s gotten so good on this show.

There’s a minor but urgent subplot for Samantha Marie Ware too.

Plus, Paul McCrane and Roger Guenveur Smith sucking up to Missick for election support. It’s a full episode with multiple cliffhangers, including a much foreshadowed one.

If they managed to keep this momentum going into the season premiere or whatever the next episode’s called… it’d be awesome for the show. I had no idea they could do an episode this good.

All Rise (2019) s03e09 – Truth Hurts

I want to be more enthusiastic about this episode of “All Rise,” but I don’t trust the show anymore. They’ve resolved Simone Missick’s extra-marital flirtation arc with (not appearing this episode) Sean Blakemore. Again. They promise this time. For sure. This time it’s over.

For sure.

The resolution arc involves Missick’s husband, Christian Keyes, who hasn’t had this much to do all season. Even though—as Keyes points out—he’s been selfless primary caregiver to their infant daughter, he comes off looking like a complete asshole this episode. I’ve always wondered if Keyes—recast from the original actor—was a stopgap before a potential fourth season without the character. It doesn’t seem like it anymore, but who knows? The show’s always been terrible with Missick’s marriage.

Keyes has strong-armed his way into a case of Wilson Bethel’s; Missick’s the judge on the case. It’s a continuation of a Jessica Camacho arc from like four episodes ago. Unfortunately, this season’s longer arcs are a mess. It’s a lot of drama for everyone involved, which Bethel (in his capacity as director) leans into a little much. He tries to match scene intensity with shaky camera work or fast cuts, which never works out.

And while Bethel does get the twist ending of the episode—it’s a talky, too vague, too hurried twist, he’s hands off from the main plot. J. Alex Brinson is defending a strip club customer accused of drugging a dancer. Evan Arnold’s the exceptionally well-cast sexual predator, Lindsey Normington plays the dancer. Bethel’s supposed to try it, working with Lindsay Mendez to gain the trust of the club’s dancers, only to kick it to newbie Ronak Gandhi.

The arc has multiple twists, including Gandhi’s major crush on Normington and not professionally respecting Mendez enough. It’s harrowing, with good supporting performances from Brinson and Missick. It’s all about Gandhi and Mendez, though.

Meanwhile, Camacho literally hops between plots, visiting all her pals without a case of her own. It’s still entirely unclear if “All Rise” is downgrading Camacho for an easy exit or if they just can’t manage all these characters.

And then Marg Helgenberger shows up for a brief cameo to remind everyone she’s going to show up from time to time.

In addition to the twist ending, there’s a ruling with future repercussions (“All Rise” is about to wrap up its first OWN season). Even with the occasional direction problems, it’s one of the season’s better episodes; it almost feels like they know what they want to do with the show. Almost.

All Rise (2019) s03e08 – Lola Through the Looking Glass

I never watched “Ally McBeal,” but is a dream episode something it might have done? I wonder if it was better suited for the diversion than “All Rise.”

Though… even when “Rise”’s cast has been wanting in terms of performances, they’ve always been amiable, so having them play various absurd roles in Simone Missick’s dream is entertaining. The episode begins with no resolution to the elevator cliffhanger, where Missick and law school beau Sean Blakemore find themselves trapped. But they don’t kiss and canoodle or decide never to kiss and canoodle, which makes the cliffhanger even cheaper than before.

This episode opens with Missick getting an invitation to a prestigious law event. It turns out Blakemore’s the hosting lawyer, so it seems like he’s trying to get her away for a conference weekend at a resort. Before falling asleep and having her wild dream, Missick argues with her still primary caregiving husband, Christian Keyes, about childcare stuff. Then she and Wilson Bethel fight about him giving her relationship advice. As in, stay away from Blakemore’s resort invitation.

The dream has Missick giving up the law to marry Blakemore and living the good life. They’ve got three kids, who don’t figure into the story at all, and Missick’s trying to get elected national chairperson to a Black women’s legal society. She and Bethel are on the outs; he’s the judge now and apparently… gay and married to J. Alex Brinson. Jessica Camacho (who’s fantastic) is their brash, brassy, slutty, drunky surrogate. Lindsey Gort’s her doula.

Missick’s attraction to Blakemore is retroactively completely reasonable once he’s got his shirt off, which the dream sequence leads with. Keyes is also around, married to Ryan Michelle Bathe, now Missick’s nemesis. Missick stole Blakemore from Bathe in law school and ended up with Keyes, who had some kind of attraction with Missick back then. Now Keyes wants to leave Bathe and Bathe’s going to destroy Missick in the legal society election….

And there’s a law school reunion, where everyone gets together. Almost everyone. Marg Helgenberger’s cameo is short, ditto Samantha Marie Ware and Roger Guenveur Smith. Ian Anthony Dale, however, displays unseen comic chops as a horny drunk, while Lindsay Mendez and Ruthie Ann Miles get to sing.

Some things work better than others—Brinson’s a tad broad–but shaking things up does liven the cast. Only for it all to turn out to be filler; stay tuned for next episode and the actual resolution. Maybe.

“All Rise” has let the Blakemore subplot entirely dominate the second half of the season, and it’s getting nothing out of it. Such strange, constant missteps.

All Rise (2019) s03e07 – Through the Fire

So, even after going through a whole episode to close off the Sean Blakemore arc—he’s Simone Missick’s law school love, and he’s around again; it’s causing feelings, which are always awkward because Blakemore and Missick haven’t got any chemistry together. Returning guest star Ronak Gandhi does a great job pretending he’s in the middle of a chemistry-soaked scene when it’s ice-cold flirting. It’s nice to have Gandhi back, especially since there’s the inexplicable Blakemore.

Blakemore’s defending a wealthy client’s son in a drunk driving case. Gandhi was supposed to plea it down, but things got screwed up. It’s a tedious case, with only Gandhi keeping it going. Though when Lindsey Gort’s still involved (she and Blakemore are partners now), she does fine. It’s Blakemore and Missick. This arc’s exasperating.

The good case this episode is J. Alex Brinson’s. He’s defending an ex-con who’s experiencing homelessness and charged with lighting fires in encampments. Nick Fink plays the kid; he’s okay, nothing more. T.J. Ramini plays the district attorney, an obnoxious British guy who’s never lost a case in his career. If the character’s supposed to be annoying and incompetent, Ramini does a fine job. The real surprise is Roger Guenveur Smith. He’s the judge. And he’s great. Smith’s been incredibly uneven this season, but he’s outstanding.

The episode’s mostly a Brinson showcase, outside Missick’s shenanigans. Lindsay Mendez gets a largely thankless subplot about a client—she’s a victim counselor for the D.A.—punching her out in a courtroom. She starts questioning her place in the halls of justice and even… wait for it… no-calls, no-shows to go to brunch with Jessica Camacho.

Wilson Bethel’s got very little to do, playing manager to Mendez, witnessing the Missick courtroom’s car accident (putting him on the stand), and getting a perfunctory exposition sequence with Gort. They can only have a good time for so long before Bethel (like always) brings up Gort’s not impending enough divorce. It’s most of Bethel’s personality at this point.

Oh, and there’s a very weird hangout scene for Bethel and Missick. It makes a little bit of sense because he’s a witness in her courtroom, but the joke they can’t find a new place to hang out is very tired seven episodes into the season. Especially since it’s a fourth-tier subplot.

There are the definite minuses, but Brinson’s case is “All Rise” at its earnest best.

And it’s great to see Gandhi again.

All Rise (2019) s03e06 – I’ll Be There

“All Rise” has a history of ingloriously dumping unsuccessful subplots—I think Simone Missick running for state senate or whatever in season one warranted in-show commentary they dropped it so fast—but this new one, where Missick’s got the hots for law school ex Sean Blakemore, is something else. Maybe because the show’s on streaming now and has ten episodes instead of twenty, maybe because they didn’t test Blakemore and Missick enough, but it’s a bland disaster. It’s not terrible; Missick has the chops to act her way through it, but it’s a profound nothing-burger.

The episode opens with Missick having a From Here to Eternity dream about Blakemore, interrupted by a crying baby and a messy husband (Christian Keyes). Missick’s dilemma this episode is whether to have lunch with Blakemore, who’s probably moving to L.A., actually; something Missick (and the audience) find out from Wilson Bethel. Bethel’s got almost nothing to do in this episode. His most important contribution is standing around. Literally. It’s a Missick and Jessica Camacho episode; since Bethel’s not in court with them, he’s benched. The show’s got so many characters. So, so many.

Anyway.

Camacho’s representing falsely convicted John Marshall Jones (who’s so exceptionally solid he ought to guest star on everything). He’s been in prison twenty years for a crime he didn’t commit. An off-screen friend is coming forward with new testimony, and Camacho’s trying to get a new hearing. Marg Helgenberger—I was shocked to see she really came back—is the appeals judge, which means she gets some scenes with Missick later. Helgenberger grants a hearing, so there’s an episode and Camacho’s up against assistant DA Suzanne Cryer.

Cryer’s been on the show for ages, and it’s possibly her best episode. She’s had to build this character between guest spots, always playing the bad guy, and she finally gets some character development. It’s nice.

The trial plot is a fairly straightforward legal procedural. Camacho will find out things about her client, the witnesses, and the case. Since it’s an old case, everything will come through in exposition. Outside some early stumbling, it’s all solid. It helps Jones is great; it helps Missick’s sympathetic to his case but also under scrutiny from new Chief Justice Roger Guenveur Smith (who’s back to being weird and bad), though the wrap-up with Camacho is a little forced. The show’s keeping Camacho treading water, character-wise, like if it gets renewed, she won’t be back.

The subplot—outside Missick’s home life one—is Lindsey Gort and Samantha Marie Ware (back for the first time since the season premiere) and a contested will. As TV lawyer show cases go, it’s middling, but it does give Gort and Ware something different to do; it works out. Though the show entirely avoids whatever’s up with Ware since she failed the bar.

“All Rise” keeps on chugging. Unfortunately, the show’s ill-suited for a ten-episode season, so we’ll see how they wrap it up (they’re in the back half now), but hopefully, they figure it out.

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) s03e04 – Trouble Man

It’s J. Alex Brinson’s first murder trial—as a public defender—and he’s up against jogging pal and former mentor Wilson Bethel, and Simone Missick’s their judge. I like how at some point, “All Rise” just stopped worrying about Bethel and Missick being besties and let her hear his cases. Missick, of course, was Brinson’s judge when he was a bailiff and also a mentor. So lots of personal pressures. Plus, his client, Geoffrey Owens, doesn’t seem not guilty and is antagonistic over Brinson not thinking he’s not guilty.

While the courtroom bickering sometimes goes unrealistically (for the characters) over the top—Brinson and Bethel bickering, then Brinson talking back to Missick—it’s a good showcase for Brinson. First, he’s got the client he thinks is guilty and his struggling to defend him, then he gets new information and thinks maybe the guy’s innocent, which just makes things more complicated. Especially when Bethel takes him out for beers and a warning, though when Brinson accuses Bethel of playing mind games with opposing council… it’s not like they didn’t work together all of last season, and Bethel never, ever did that thing.

Missick gets two subplots. She’s still trying to reconcile with now-former clerk, Ruthie Ann Miles, including making her work in her old courtroom for Missick (which makes no sense since Miles’s new boss is around). Then at home, Mr. Mom husband, Christian Keyes, is getting involved in couponing and bulk discounts, which is concerning. It’s a reasonably funny subplot, with Keyes very willing to be the butt of the joke.

The other main plot is Jessica Camacho trying to get client Tina Ivlev reunited with her kids. Ivlev storming into social services demanding to see them doesn’t help. They eventually end up in front of family court judge Dan Castellaneta (Homer Simpson in a straight dramatic part). It’s not a particularly big plot for Camacho, who also gets to hang out with Brinson for a scene and then moves into Lindsey Gort’s offices just because there’s a spare desk in a throwaway scene (maybe it’ll be important later). But it’s keeping Camacho’s plot line going, and it’s a good one.

Then Lindsay Mendez’s victim’s advocate for the Brinson case, which has the victim’s son, McCarrie McCausland, demanding the LAPD police Black neighborhoods more. The show does have a conversation about that subject—with new chief judge Roger Guenveur Smith showing up for the first time since the season premiere and doing much better than in that episode. It’s a little much (they’re eventually going to give Missick a “not all cops” t-shirt), but it’s not as bad as it initially threatens.

Lots of good acting, particularly from Brinson, Owens, and Missick. Rob Greenlea’s direction’s okay, though combined with the script (credited to Corey Moore), the pacing’s a little off.

All Rise (2019) s03e03 – Give It Time

This episode’s a downer. I kept waiting for it not to be a downer, only it keeps getting worse for pretty much everyone.

But it’s also a very familiar kind of “All Rise” downer episode; it’s bittersweet and about how these people are just trying to do the good thing in impossible, structurally broken situations. Even though the episode’s very evenly distributed—there are two trials, Simone Missick and Ruthie Ann Miles’s corruption subplot, Wilson Bethel and Lindsey Gort babysitting, Bethel investigating Missick and Miles’s investigation, and Lindsay Mendez getting closer to a full arc for the first time this season. Though Miles and Missick are still having problems with a stenography replacement, so it does always seem ready for Mendez to give up the victims’ rights advocate position.

Lucy Luna gets the script credit; she’s written numerous episodes and is a story editor. Again, it feels like “All Rise.”

Jessica Camacho’s got the roughest professional arc this episode—Missick and Miles’s ends up being a lot more personal than either were expecting—while J. Alex Brinson’s trial is the lightest. Bethel and Gort’s babysitting alternates between being cute and tense; things go wrong, and Bethel and Christian Keyes (Missick’s newly recast husband) trying to figure things out behind the scenes to help Missick and Miles complicate matters.

Also, Missick and Keyes get their best episode together so far; they’re doing date night without the baby, only it gets complicated.

Kearran Giovanni is back guest-starring to make “All Rise” again feel like it’s from the “Closer” and “Major Crimes” production company (it’s not). She’s Camacho’s opposing counsel in a case about a young, single mother, Tina Ivlev, accused of assaulting a landlady. Camacho’s trying to make sure Ivlev doesn’t lose her kids, but it turns out Ivlev isn’t reliable. The show skirts around Ivlev’s guilt or culpability; she can’t get it together, she’s overwhelmed, and it’s affecting many things. It’s again a good arc for Camacho, though her resolution needed to be a little longer.

“All Rise” does seem to be closing off some subplots—there are more than a few outstanding—and hopefully, it’ll lead to the show getting more focused.

Lots of good performances this episode, particularly Bethel, Missick, Camacho, and Brinson. Keyes is getting comfortable in the part, and then it’s one of those good Gort episodes. It’s problematic that good is because she’s playing off Bethel and not doing court.

But still. Everyone’s appropriately earnest this episode, and it pays off.

Director Lionel Coleman does a good job keeping the episode moving… with the caveat, the episode did need to be longer. Forty minutes and thirty seconds or whatever doesn’t cut it.

All Rise (2019) s03e02 – The Game

I’m just going to assume the first OWN episode of “All Rise” was some kind of “new network” pilot. Because this episode’s not just a lot better, it doesn’t even feel like that episode. Maybe because there’s not constant, overblown music. But also… Wilson Bethel’s got a goatee in this episode, and Simone Missick’s hair’s different; it feels like the first real episode after a pilot. And it’s in better shape, thank goodness.

The show’s leaning into humor and heart. The case is a severe one—star hockey player Zane Holtz and Instagram influencer Olivia Rose Keegan were having consensual rough sex, and then he assaulted her. There’s not a lot of opportunity for lightness, so the episode goes front-heavy with the humor beats. During the actual trial, the show relies on young assistant D.A. Ronak Gandhi for the relief. It’s not exactly comic relief, but Gandhi’s an affable character. He’s a millennial wunderkind ADA who thinks Bethel’s (professionally) incredible and surprised to discover the courtroom is one big friends group.

Keegan’s good, Holtz’s scary, but there’s a disconnect when it comes to Lindsey Gort. She’s defending Holtz against fiancé Bethel, while Samantha Marie Ware is mortified at what defense attorneys do. Gort acts like it’s nothing, humanizing her through Bethel later on. But it’s impossible to blame her—it’s the script. Credited to Gina Gold and Aurorae Khoo, it directly raises questions from Ware to Gort, then ignores them all, but with Gort doing all the avoiding.

It’s a strange oversight, especially when so much of the rest of the episode is about professional… well, development. J. Alex Brinson and Bethel talk professional talk, Brinson talks professional talk with Jessica Camacho (also romance subplot check-in but some professional talk), Missick gets to talk with other judge Patricia Rae; lots of shop talk for everyone. But Ware’s left hanging.

Camacho’s whole plot line in this episode is professional too. She’s trying to get her holistic law practice going. It’s a fairly good setup for a season arc for her. More immediately, Missick’s got a professional subplot of her own with her assistant, Ruthie Ann Miles, throwing a wrench in their friendship. So it’s a whole bunch of professional storylines.

But not Gort. It keeps the character one note. Defining her through Bethel’s even worse.

It’s mostly a good episode. Bethel shares space with Gandhi well—he’s very complementary to the guest star—but he doesn’t get anything much of his own. Missick’s got some decent moments, but the Miles subplot feels (not otherwise unsuccessfully) shoehorned in. Camacho’s got the best arc.

Lindsay Mendez also has some good moments; she’s Keegan’s victim’s rights advocate.

It’s a little breezy at times, but the show at least feels like “All Rise” again and not some weird restaged version with the same cast.

All Rise (2019) s03e01 – Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’

"All Rise" isn't a guilty pleasure so much as I don't want to miss seeing leads Simone Missick and Wilson Bethel act. The show's frequently got ups and downs, but sincere performances go a long way. The show double-weathered the COVID-19 lockdown, first with an adjusted first season finale, then a second season made during COVID-19 about working during COVID-19. CBS ingloriously canceled the show at the end of the second season—despite the show being about racism and sexism, institutionalized and otherwise, show creator Greg Spottiswood was a sexist, racist piece of shit white guy who made his intentionally diverse staff miserable. CBS owed them and failed.

So Oprah's OWN picked it up, and now, with a couple or three significant changes, "All Rise" is back.

The show's first big change, which it hammers in for the opening five or six minutes, is Missick's recast husband. Used to be Todd Williams, who I rarely liked; now it's Christian Keyes, who's around a lot but doesn't make much impression. He's just a super-supportive husband. It's not even clear he's got a job anymore.

The second big change is the music. Adrian Younge does the music, and there's always music. Unfortunately, no matter the scene, it seems like Younge's filling the background. It's so never godawful, but it's eventually tedious. It distracts from the dialogue at times, which isn't great.

The third big change is the slapstick. There's now some slapstick in "All Rise." Bewildering rom-com-esque slapstick. While I know Missick was pregnant for a lot of season two (another reason they deserved another season), showing off she can do pratfalls or whatever… weird decision.

Especially since the rest of the episode's pretty serious. "All Rise" maintains a genial tone over all else, even when Anne Heche shows up for a minute. She's a low-key white supremacist, high-key fascist who's out to ruin Missick for being, well, a Black woman, actually. It seems like Heche will be season villain, though Missick's already got a new antagonist in Roger Guenveur Smith. Smith (Smiley from Do the Right Thing, and some other Spike Lee movies) is the super-conservative (Black) new supervising judge because Marg Helgenberger's not doing an OWN series where she's third string.

So far, Smith's not a great addition.

They've also lost Reggie Lee (oh, and seemingly Audrey Corsa). Lee played Bethel's supervisor. Bethel doesn't have any cases this episode; instead, he's running the hiring committee for Lee's replacement as punishment for not taking the job. It's far from a good subplot, especially since other parts of the episode are just season premiere delaying devices. Helgenberger takes most of the episode to reveal her departure, everyone's waiting to see if Jessica Camacho's really coming back, and so on.

Samantha Marie Ware's back, working for Lindsey Gort and trying to make Gort and Ryan Michelle Bathe (who Zoom cameos) pay her for her labor. Of course, Ware doesn't understand part of being a lawyer is suffering, so someday you can make someone else suffer. Strange flex. But that subplot is more prominent than anything Bethel's got.

The trial involves J. Alex Brinson—now a public defender—representing a foster kid (Taj Speights) who doesn't want his siblings removed from their first good foster situation, so he's been lying. Complicating it—very, very temporarily—is Lindsay Mendez now playing victims' rights advocate; it's barely a subplot and goes nowhere in the episode because it'd be too difficult.

Hopefully, it's just season premiere, new network jitters, and "All Rise" can find some firmer footing. It's off to a rough start, even taking extremely qualified expectations into account.