Animation suits Las Vegas well. From "CSI" to "Hacks," Sin City hasn't skimped on television adaptations. But the Netflix comedy "Strip Law," created by Cullen Crawford, a former member of the satirical website ClickHole and "The Late Show With Stephen Colbert," has the advantage of capturing the essence of its setting. Thanks to the magic of animation, "Strip Law" can create a fictional version of Las Vegas almost as absurd as the real place: a city where magicians and animals have an annual cage fight, the beret-wearing comedian George Wallace is the mayor, and a law firm's clients might include an Austin Powers impersonator on trial for vomiting on a baby.
That firm is owned by Lincoln Gumb (Adam Scott), a puritanical lawyer who inherited the business from his late mother. Lincoln is a good lawyer, but he lacks the showmanship needed to win over the jaded and fickle local juries: "You're a Vegas lawyer, but you think you're better than Vegas," they tell him on opening night.
Creator: Cullen CrawfordStars: Adam Scott, Janelle James, Stephen Root
So Lincoln joins forces with magician Sheila Flambé (Janelle James), a "prominent figure" who takes on the role of creative director to give Lincoln's work a desperately needed dose of dazzlement. Lincoln can file a brief, but only Sheila is willing to electrocute herself in court to prove that heaven doesn't exist. ("Strip Law" provides context for this unconventional tactic, but it doesn't really need much.)
Lincoln's other employees—his sullen teenage niece Irene (Shannon Gisela), acting as an in-house investigator, and the elderly problem-solver Glem Blorchman (Stephen Root)—collaborate in these efforts, but, like the old "Sex and the City" trope, the real star of "Strip Law" is Vegas. Crawford and his writers flood the show with visual gags to create an exaggerated, though clearly affectionate, sense of place. The opening credits, which boast that the series was “proudly made by real human beings, not computers,” zoom past various shops on the iconic street that gives the show its name. The signs vary from episode to episode, but have included “Elvis Circumcision,” the “Mob Thugs Hall of Fame,” and a “Sexxxual Grocery Store.”
The sheer density of jokes in “Strip Law,” so rare on television these days, makes it enormously endearing. The same is true of the voice acting: Scott is perfectly cast as the downtrodden straight man whom his new partner diagnoses with “a terminal case of Pete Buttigieg energy,” while Sheila is an even more eccentric figure than Principal Ava, James’s breakout character in “Abbott Elementary.” A metaphorical touch subtly mocks the legal procedural genre; "Strip Law" plays with the conventions of: "We just have to cut to the last part of these weekly cases where we do something clever but a little stupid and we win!" Meanwhile, a willingness to experiment visually results in anime-style sequences and even live-action scenes, including cameos from a couple of well-known comedians.
But there's also a skillfully cultivated backstory that gives Lincoln's arc some emotional weight, in addition to its entertainment value. Along with his partner Steve Nichols (Keith David), Lincoln's late mother was a high-powered Las Vegas attorney. (Credit to the writers of her firm's jingle: "Nichols and bubblegum, that's two things in your pocket..." has been stuck in my head for days.) She was also, we realize, a mediocre mother, and Lincoln's attempts to live up to and surpass her legacy reflect his complicated relationship with his hometown. Las Vegas can be a nightmare for visitors, let alone a local, but "Strip Law" has a penchant for vintage style and showmanship that's infectious. Where else could your virtual reality avatar for HR training be a mashup of all the Rat Pack members?
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