Fans of the most familiar version of Perry Mason—Raymond Burr in the nine-season black-and-white CBS series and in several TV movies afterward—may be taken aback by HBO’s crafting of the world’s greatest defense attorney. Matthew Rhys’ Mason is slight (Burr was tall and foreboding, with shoulders a linebacker would envy), rumpled, and far from the legal professional who caused criminals to break on the stand more often than not. That’s because this HBO series (produced by Robert Downey Jr. and Susan Downey) takes the unusual path of exploring Perry Mason’s early days, back when he was a grimy, window-peeking P.I.—a character that more closely resembles the Mason in the many novels by Erle Stanley Gardner (the third best-selling book series of all time, behind Harry Potter and Goosebumps).
At the beginning of his first mystery, 1933’s The Case Of The Velvet Claws, that Perry is described this way: “He gave the impression of being a thinker and a fighter, a man who could work with infinite patience to jockey an adversary into just the right position, then finish him with one terrific punch.” Even that version of Mason is advanced compared with Rhys’ depiction; one of our first views of Perry Mason onscreen is him snapping salacious pictures for a studio head concerned about a Fatty Arbuckle-type character violating the morals clause (boy, is he ever). This Perry can’t even get an egg splotch (or is it mustard?) off of his tie when his old mentor, E.B. Jonathan (John Lithgow), comes calling to draft him for the biggest case in the city, leading him to trawling for dead men’s ties in the morgue instead.
The biggest case of 1932 Los Angeles involves the most tragic of crimes—a child murder—and Perry Mason leads off with a disturbing image around the premiere’s five-minute mark that the viewer may have trouble shaking for the rest of the series. To its credit, the visage is meant to be shocking enough to jar this scruffy Perry Mason into stop wasting his laser-sharp mind and help bring the monsters who did this to justice. Along with some full-frontal nudity that soon follows, it also seems intended to assert right out of the gate that this is not your grandpa’s Perry Mason. Rhys is always a joy to witness, and he’s all in here—if you can look past the six-o’clock stubble, his Mason possesses just enough smarmy charm to make you want to root for him, even as he’s clearly his own worst enemy.
Though possibly thrown by such a faltering Perry Mason, fans of the CBS series will be pleased to spot other familiar names in the cast of characters, though there’s no chance of a Perry/Della Street (Juliet Rylance) will-they/won’t-they flirtation in this universe, as she’s gay. Paul Drake (Chris Chalk) is not an independent investigator but an ambitious young Black cop with a baby on the way hassled by his corrupt superiors on the police force. Hamilton Burger is not yet Mason’s almost constant courtroom adversary, but a lawyer who helps to coach him on legal matters. In one sly meta nod during a mock trial, he hilariously insists to Mason that no one would be able to break a witness down on the stand because that never actually happens, even though fans of the original series witnessed that about once a week. Even the LAPD’s Detective Holcomb (Eric Lange), a frequent guest on the TV show, makes an appearance. (The lack of the iconic theme song, however, seems like a missed opportunity.)