Spoilers follow for Strip Law on Netflix, which debuts on February 20.
13 years ago, Adult Swim launched an animated series that would change the game – Rick and Morty, which became a cultural behemoth and redefined what adult animation can do. And while there have been plenty of series before and since that have inspired and been inspired, respectively, by the now iconic show, Netflix’s Strip Law is the first adult animated comedy series since the debut of Rick and Morty that feels like it’s really doing something fresh and new, and could be as impactful as the adventures of that famous duo.
To be 100% clear, Rick and Morty and Strip Law are two extremely different programs. The former is a riff on the sci-fi classic Back to the Future that pairs a drunken scientist with his relatively normal (though extremely horny) grandson to go on adventures through time and space, while ultimately being a deep dive into sadness, grief, and an exploration of healing and self through family. Meanwhile, Strip Law is about lawyers in Las Vegas.
OK, that isn’t fair to how revelatory Strip Law feels to watch (the full 10-episode season was provided to critics). The show focuses on Lincoln Gumb (Adam Scott), the son of the most popular lawyer in Vegas; after she dies, Lincoln is fired by his mother’s long-time partner, Steve Nichols (Keith David). Lincoln has to make it on his own now, but the problem is that he plays things by the book, and Vegas – as depicted through the lens of former Late Show with Stephen Colbert writer and showrunner Cullen Crawford – is a surreal wonderland/wasteland where almost anything can happen at any time, and the populace values ads and spectacle far more than the letter of the law.
Gumb teams up with a street magician named Sheila Flambé (Abbott Elementary’s Janelle James), who provides the pizazz while Gumb locks down the actual trials…at least, as best as he can. It’s a classic sitcom setup, but it’s really just an excuse to go hog wild with the most imaginative, demented series of episodes that have hit TV since Rick and Morty premiered well over a decade ago.
At least part of that evolution can be chalked up to the difference in references, and while Strip Law may also call to mind reference-humor-heavy shows like Family Guy, what separates Strip Law from the pack is that the points of origin lift up the characters rather than merely existing to remind the audience of moments they remember. Basically, it’s the difference between satire and parody; satire (among other things) is using references to make a point, while parody is merely presenting them as is. While Rick and Morty was very pointedly riffing on movies of the ’80s, the touchstones for Strip Law are moved at least 10 to 20 years up and squarely in the late ’90s and early 2000s.
That’s made incredibly clear in the first episode, when a Vegas montage is hilariously set to “Cleveland Rocks,” the theme song from The Drew Carey Show; Strip Law knows this, calls it out, and loves it. Strip Law may be the first TV show that is specifically aimed at those of us who have been irrevocably brain-poisoned by social media. Your mileage may vary about whether this is a good or bad thing, but the breakneck pace of the series is the equivalent of doomscrolling through vintage Twitter while taking a Buzzfeed quiz, or perhaps browsing Vine a half-hour at a time instead of six seconds at a time.
Strip Law is crystal clear from the get-go, from the relationship between Gumb and Flambé, to supporting characters at the firm.
There’s a more important point of comparison between Strip Law and Rick and Morty: You instantly know who these characters are and what they want. More often than not, comedies take a while to find their footing. You need to introduce the characters, find their games (i.e., recurring bits and point of view), and then the writing staff needs to realize they don’t quite work and tweak accordingly. Animated shows, by working years ahead, don’t have the luxury of seeing how an audience responds to their actors and pivoting; instead, this often takes the form of providing a supporting cast and recurring characters to bump up the main cast. Think about the citizens of Springfield in The Simpsons; sure, the title family are the main event, but without Moe, Mr. Burns, Ralph Wiggum, and all the rest, the show wouldn’t work.
Rick and Morty, meanwhile, came out of the gate clean and clear with a clarity of purpose and understanding of what made its main characters tick. The rest of the family may have taken a moment to slide into their games, and arguably the show didn’t kick things up to the next level until the sixth episode of Season 1 (“Rick Potion No. 9”), but from the first moment Rick blathered on about “a hundred years Rick and Morty” while Morty convulsed in the driveway, you knew what the show was about.
Similarly, Strip Law is crystal clear from the get-go, from the relationship between Gumb and Flambé, to supporting characters at the firm like Lincoln’s weight-lifting niece/investigator, Irene (Aimee Garcia), and the requisite disgusting old man, Glem Blorchman (Stephen Root). Each and every character on the show hits the ground running, and thanks to an instantly populated Las Vegas full of characters like a stripper named Lunch Meat and various judges who would rather celebrate Halloween or win a world’s record for most cases judged, it’s clear that Strip Law looked at The Simpsons, Rick and Morty, and other programs, figured out what worked, put that in a blender, and remarkably came out with one of those milkshakes that has a cake and candy on top instead of disgusting sludge.
Even the Rick and Morty comparison – though it will likely be called out the most – isn’t quite right. Strip Law is more akin to classic Adult Swim series like Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law or Space Ghost Coast to Coast. It has an ‘anything goes’ aesthetic that still sits within guardrails that may not be visible but are clearly there. The pace is more packed, and there’s less of the “you’re at home on a Saturday night past midnight and extremely high” vibe that most Adult Swim series go for, but the idea of setting the rules merely so they can break them is omnipresent.
Strip Law is a show that is aware of itself as a TV show, hitting the beats while throwing everything at the wall…with most of it sticking. Episodes feature plots like putting the characters in a virtual HR seminar hosted by an AI amalgamation of the Rat Pack while the rest of the town is rioting over an update of the horny claymation characters, the Hot Dates. Yet, even with all of that going on, it’s never overwhelming, because Crawford and company remember this needs to first be about Gumb, Flambé, and the other staff of the law firm. Even when the show is going for the throat with an episode about the emptiness of religious shows in Vegas mixed with the nihilism of faith-based filmmaking (including an absolutely wild live-action trailer), it’s surprisingly respectful in its exploration, and continues to focus on what this means for Gumb and his co-workers.
In essence, what Strip Law is doing isn’t reinventing the wheel so much as discovering a new, exciting voice (tire?) in animated comedy. Cullen Crawford gives Strip Law a different pace and tone while also delivering what audiences have craved since the beginning of animation: good characters, wild situations, and a way of using the form to the height of its abilities.
A hundred years Strip Law!
