Matlock

When you think of courtroom drama, you probably picture sharp, quick-witted attorneys who debate in a flurry of legalese and make groundbreaking arguments that leave everyone in awe. And then there’s Matlock. The 1980s legal drama starring Andy Griffith as the titular Ben Matlock, an elderly, folksy lawyer from Atlanta, is perhaps the last show you would call groundbreaking. But that’s the beauty of it—this show doesn't need to reinvent the wheel. It just keeps rolling along, cozy and predictable, like a well-worn rocking chair on a porch in Mayberry.

For those who fondly remember The Andy Griffith Show, Matlock might come across as a bit of a bizarre spin-off. Sure, it's not a sheriff in a small town anymore, but the charm of Andy Griffith remains, along with his affable southern drawl and a knack for finding the truth by talking to people in a way that somehow gets them to confess. In Matlock, Griffith trades his badge for a briefcase and a few more years of wisdom, taking on the role of a defence attorney who can outwit just about anyone. A little bit of Andy Taylor (the sheriff from Andy Griffith), a little bit of Perry Mason, and a whole lot of “I’ll take my sweet time getting to the point,” the widower Matlock may be somewhat cantankerous, but he is your go-to guy when you're in need of legal assistance, or at least some good old-fashioned storytelling.

While it's tempting to call the show a "comfort watch," Matlock is the epitome of formulaic television. Every episode follows the same basic pattern: someone is accused of a crime (usually murder), Matlock takes the case, the witnesses are all more suspicious than a game of Cluedo, and after some charming courtroom banter, Matlock delivers his “Aha!” moment. The real twist? It’s never really that shocking. No, the fun lies not in the whodunit, but in watching Matlock’s laid-back investigation process unfold, as he bumbles through the most obvious clues with a twinkle in his eye and a slow, drawling delivery.

You’ve seen it a thousand times before, but it’s hard to look away. Matlock is the kind of show that offers no surprises but still feels satisfying, like the comfort food of TV dramas. The storylines might be as predictable as your grandma’s knitting pattern, but Griffith’s warm presence elevates the material, even if the plot points feel more like a checklist than a creative endeavour. A scene where Matlock crosses-examines a suspect? Check. A scene where he has a heart-to-heart with the real murderer to get them to confess? Check. A closing speech where he wraps it all up in a bow while the audience claps? Check, check, and check.

While Matlock might have been “grandpa’s favourite show,” it was undeniably popular. So much so that it ran for a solid 9 seasons, from 1986 to 1995. Not bad for a show that didn’t do anything particularly groundbreaking—except maybe establish Andy Griffith as the ultimate TV patriarch of courtroom drama. The formula worked, and it worked well enough to make Matlock one of those rare TV characters whose name is synonymous with comfort. After all, in a world of flashy legal thrillers and edgy courtroom dramas, sometimes it’s nice to know that the guy defending you in court is more interested in talking to the witness about their day than jumping into a high-stakes legal duel.

The supporting cast of Matlock is another key ingredient in the show's cozy charm, even if none of them quite steal the spotlight from Griffith. The show’s heart and soul are Matlock’s loyal colleagues, most notably his associates: Charlene Matlock (Linda Purl) was Ben’s daughter and partner in the law firm before moving to Philadelphia to start her own practice, and later, the no-nonsense Michelle Thomas (Nancy Stafford). Charlene, with her bright smile and enthusiastic personality, was an eager foil to Matlock’s more seasoned approach, while Michelle, an American lawyer living in London when we first meet her, returned to the US to become Ben's equal partner. The show also featured an assortment of recurring characters, like the ever-efficient, stock market whizz turned private investigator Tyler Hudson (Kene Holliday), Matlock's most frequent legal adversary - Julie March (Julie Sommars), a district attorney who eventually becomes a good friend to Ben, and the occasional guest stars who added a dash of intrigue to the legal cases. Don Knotts, who co-starred with Griffith on The Andy Griffith Show, began making frequent appearances as Les "Ace" Calhoun, Matlock's next-door neighbour, before replacing Stafford at the start of season seven.

While none of these players were exactly breaking new ground, they fit the show's rhythm, always ready to provide just the right amount of support for Matlock's folksy wisdom and courtroom heroics.

The series spawned the CBS spin-off Jake and the Fatman which starred William Conrad as prosecutor James L. McShane after the character appeared in two season one episodes and the producers of both series, Fred Silverman and Dean Hargrove were responsible for Diagnosis: Murder which itself was a spin-off from Jake.

At its core, Matlock is a comforting, old-school procedural where the stakes never feel too high, but the moral lessons are always sound. If you’re in the mood for something that doesn’t demand too much brainpower, where the most exciting thing that happens is Matlock’s slow, deliberate walk toward the courtroom, then this show is for you. It’s predictably charming, if not a little too reliant on its formula. But hey, it lasted nine seasons, and that’s no small feat for a show where the biggest twist is often just Ben finally finishing his fried chicken dinner.