‘The Good Fight’ review: A welcome return with season 5, even if the Paramount+ show is slightly off its game

We’re all a bit worse for wear after these past 15 months or so, and that’s true of the season five premiere of “The Good Fight” on Paramount+ as well. A show that has always been so stylistically confident — so happily bold and rollicking and exquisitely

Last season wrapped earlier than planned thanks to the pandemic, and perhaps that’s why the new season begins not by looking forward but backward on the events of the past year. True to form, this is done with a wink; each chapter in the premiere is introduced with the words “previously on,” like the endless preview that it actually is. I don’t think it’s effective — the episode has no momentum, which is a departure from the show’s norm — but I understand the thought process behind it and I love that the opening credits are held until the very end, becoming the closing credits in this one particular instance.

A spinoff of “The Good Wife” (which ran for seven seasons on CBS), the Christine Baranski legal drama has always embraced the here and now, so of course COVID-19, the murder of George Floyd and the Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol would all factor into the show’s reality. As a result, the premiere has a lot of news and business to cycle through to bring us into the present. It also sets up a graceful exit from the series for Adrian Boseman and Lucca Quinn, played by Delroy Lindo and Cush Jumbo respectively, whose storylines would have wrapped at the end of last season, were it not truncated.

Starting with episode two, that leaves only Baranski’s Diane Lockhart and Audra McDonald’s Liz Reddick-Lawrence as key decision-makers at the firm now known as Reddick, Lockhart & Associates. But there’s an undercurrent of tension there: In practical and philosophical terms, what does it mean to have a primarily Black law firm co-led by white partner?

There’s something meta in this question, because you could ask it of the show itself. Why create a series based on the premise of a white woman joining a Black law firm, only to be skittish about fully embracing the narrative possibilities and complications therein? I’m curious if this time “The Good Fight” will actually explore some of these ideas further. It’s notable that working elbow to elbow with her colleagues has done little to open Diane’s eyes or reorient her priorities as an attorney or a boss. What has she ever done to prioritize or advance the careers of young Black associates at the firm not named Lucca?

Concerns about the impact of Diane’s presence and that of the other white associates who joined in her wake have been mentioned here and there over the years, but only by side characters. Specifically, these are Black characters who have no storylines of their own, but exist simply as aggrieved and overlooked voices at the firm whom the named partners are forever keeping at bay. It’s such a limited way of conceiving not just individual scenes but entire story arcs. Liz mostly just straddles the line when the issue comes up, which either makes her a savvy manager of people or a person who doesn’t have particularly strong feelings either way. That’s another missed opportunity.

It’s not like the show is afraid of a good fight (sorry). What the firm even stands for has always been up for lively debate, which is what makes the inner workings of the place such puckish fun. It’s a high-end business that needs high-end (sometimes morally dubious) clientele to maintain everything that goes with it. The elegantly combustible goings on at the firm are captured in those opening credits, with accoutrements of the expensively employed exploding in glorious slow motion to a vaguely Elizabethan score, the latter of which has always felt like a nod to the show’s Shakespearean power plays. In these immaculately carpeted hallways, conspiracies abound. But so do the depressing realities of office life, HR-mandated meetings and all.

Two years ago, when I last wrote about “The Good Fight” (nominally set in Chicago though filmed in New York), I noted that “more than anything, this is a show that captures the surreal feeling of a world gone mad and yet, everything is business as usual.” Much of the discord rumbling in the background (particularly where Diane was concerned) was pegged to the previous occupant of the White House. That spiky, surreal sensibility isn’t as prevalent anymore, and I wonder if it’s because the show’s creators, Michelle and Robert King, are feeling less overtly freaked out now that Joe Biden is president. That’s disappointing, because so much of our collective lived experience remains that of … well, a world gone mad. Almost 4 million people have died globally because of a pandemic that’s not even over. Racism and a consistent infringement on human rights didn’t just go away. Inequities are being enshrined into law, as we speak, regardless of who’s president. If “The Good Fight’s” characters aren’t still stressed out and tied up in knots about that, what is the show even doing?

Well, it’s doing a few things right. The addition of a young new associate at the firm, played by Charmaine Bingwa, is a high point. Fresh out of law school, Carmen Moyo is quiet and serious and observant and smart. She doesn’t betray her feelings. In fact, she’s entirely unreadable — it’s unclear what makes her tick and whether her moral compass is on the fritz — which, so far, doesn’t feel like opaque writing but rather a mystery to be unraveled. All these qualities combined make Carmen one of the most intriguing elements of the new season, and it’s a terrific performance from Bingwa. Let’s see if the show can stick the landing by the season’s end, when and if we learn more about her motivations and who she is as a person.

The other major storyline concerns Diane’s husband Kurt McVeigh (the wonderfully stoic Gary Cole), a weapons expert who may or may not have trained some of the people who stormed the Capitol. I love Kurt but it is confounding how this marriage works, and I wonder if the show has gone to this well one time too many. But Kurt’s presence is a terrific contrast and ballast to Diane’s righteous indignation and lip-service liberalism. Randomly, I’m kind of fascinated by the decision to have Diane and Kurt’s bedroom suite be the whole of their apartment. They have no kitchen or living room apparently! This makes me laugh every time.

Each year, there’s an overarching something — “theme” seems too strong a word — and I’m not sure what that is just yet in season five. But the introduction of Mandy Patinkin as Judge Wackner is a very Kingsian element in all the right ways, as a pseudo judge who has turned the back of a copy shop into a pseudo courtroom: The very fake 9-3/4 Circuit. “If it has no power and no jurisdiction, what does it have?” Diane asks, flummoxed. It has the endlessly charming, damn-the-torpedoes Mandy Patinkin channeling Judge Judy, of course. He’s offering his own version of justice, working outside a system that tends to favor those with the deepest pockets. Here’s how Diane’s opposing counsel explains this unusual arbitration setup: “Business is down, except for everything in bankruptcy, and court dockets are backlogged into next year. If clients want to pay to resolve their differences in Crazy Court, what’s the downside?”

“The Good Fight” has never shied away from the cynicism that permeates the legal profession and the choices that get made while holding one’s nose. If the show’s bite isn’t quite as sharp as it was in the past, so be it. Who among us isn’t a little battered and bruised these days? The acting remains top-notch and it’s glorious to look at. As witty diversions go, “The Good Fight” still holds up.

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'THE GOOD FIGHT'

2.5 stars (out of 4)

Where to watch: Season five premiered Thursday on Paramount+