“Suits LA” is a spinoff of “Suits” — a sequel, sort of, but it feels like a seance. Gather, viewers, as we attempt to contact the spirit of “Suits.” Can you feel it in the room with us? Its fraternal jockeying? Its fascination with sleeveless tops as office wear for women? Maybe looking at a photograph of one of its characters will help maintain the delusion. Maybe hearing the theme song. Ooooohh. “Suits” says hi. “Suits” misses you.
And like a seance, “Suits LA,” premiering Sunday on NBC, is an attempt to turn an unanswerable question into a little money. A question not about the nature of mortality but rather the nature of hits: Why does a show become popular? Why did a series that was a decent USA show from 2011-2019 become a Netflix sensation in the summer of 2023?
The truth is, no one knows. If they did, they would make hits every time, and no show would be canceled prematurely, and we would have candy for dinner every day before the bliss orgy. But we live in the same world as the characters on “Suits LA” — the one where nothing nice can be simply enjoyed; it must be capitalized upon. Maybe plenty of “Suits” fans will be perfectly satisfied with this conjuring.
Not all of us, though, because “Suits LA” is flat and joyless. The original “Suits” distinguished itself with its quick dialogue, pert sense of humor and thrilling, wall-to-wall horniness, none of which are present here. Instead of a brilliant little scammer who stumbles into a law career under the tutelage of an alluring alpha, we have a generic mad hunk who snarls within the first five seconds of the show, “My father left when I was very young, and I never respected him.” Fun! When does Meghan Markle get here? (She does not.)
Our big dog here is Ted, played by Stephen Amell, whose voice and cadence resemble that of Gabriel Macht, who played the cocky boss in the original, thus adding a bit of “Suits”-iness. Years ago, Ted was a federal prosecutor taking down mob guys in New York. We see this story unfold in tedious flashbacks that include scenes with his slimy dad and warm memories of his tender relationship with his brother, who has Down syndrome.
New York Ted played by his own rules, and gosh darn it, the beautiful women around him loved him for it. But something must have gone sideways, because in the present day, he’s in a windowed office in Los Angeles, where he claims to be “a badass in real life” on account of how competitive an entertainment lawyer he is. His underlings, Rick (Bryan Greenberg) and Erica (Lex Scott Davis), vie for his attention and approval, which he largely withholds. Then his ostensible bestie, Stuart (Josh McDermitt), ruins everything by breaking up the firm. If you thought Ted was grouchy before, well, just you wait.
Like its predecessor, “Suits LA” does not start strong, though the three episodes made available for review improve somewhat as they go, with a celebrity client’s high-profile murder trial emerging as by far the most interesting plot. There are worse things to be than diet “Good Wife.”
Created by the “Suits” mastermind Aaron Korsh, the show that became “Suits LA” was initially about a talent agent — it was adapted into a “Suits” spinoff after the original blew up on Netflix. This is perhaps why the series is so fuzzy about what distinguishes the role of entertainment lawyers from those of agents and managers. Maybe there is dignity, purpose, dramatic texture and a beating heart somewhere within the world of entertainment law, but “Suits LA” doesn’t seem to know where any of it is.
Ted has a disdain for the premise of criminal defense law that is hard to parse. Erica’s deal is that she does not care about film or television. She can’t even tell what makes a script good, she says, not that it really matters. “The writer is never the one calling the shots,” she tells her put-upon attaché, Leah (Alice Lee). “The guy with the money is.” Well in that case, can someone please tell the guy with the money to give this show a little more juice?
Ted and Stuart used to be like brothers, they both say. But a real brother would say: “Stuart, tell me about how you decided on this beard. I want to understand.” Plenty of wonderful shows are about terrible people being terrible, but usually those shows have something to say about the world those characters inhabit, or are very funny or very sexy, or use their characters’ cravenness as a way to critique subtler hypocrisy. Attention Erica: Those are among the ways a script can be good.
None of that seems to be present at the beginning of “Suits LA.” It’s just the other seven girls at the sleepover spelling things out on the Ouija board — nothing is actually happening.