When we first heard CBS was rebooting Matlock with Kathy Bates, I think most of us assumed it was just going to be another gender-swapped remake. We figured it would play out a lot like the old Andy Griffith classic, with Bates simply stepping into the role of a kindly Southern lawyer who just happened to be extraordinarily good at practicing law. That’s partly true, except somebody had the genuinely brilliant idea of capitalizing on the Matlock name and all of its brand recognition while creating an entirely new series around it. I’m actually surprised more studios haven’t tried this approach with other classic shows because it worked like gangbusters here. The series starts out making you think it’s following the same path as the original before taking a sharp turn when it reveals that Matty Matlock isn’t really Matty Matlock at all.
She’s actually Madeline Kingston, a grieving mother with a secret agenda. Years earlier, the prestigious law firm Jacobson Moore had the opportunity to release evidence that could have saved countless lives during the opioid epidemic, including the life of her daughter, Ellie. Since Ellie’s death, Maddie and her devoted husband Edwin, played by Sam Anderson, have been raising their grandson, Alfie, played by Aaron D. Harris, while Maddie quietly plots her revenge by infiltrating the very firm she believes is responsible.
That was the driving force behind the first season, and thankfully the writers resisted the temptation to wrap everything up neatly. Instead, the conspiracy bleeds directly into Season 2, creating an entirely new set of problems. The biggest involves Olympia Lawrence, played by Skye P. Marshall, whose friendship with Maddie is shattered after discovering her true identity. The season becomes less about revenge and more about rebuilding trust, and watching Maddie and Olympia slowly repair that relationship becomes one of the strongest aspects of the show. By the end of the season they’re practically thick as thieves, but that raises an even bigger question. Can that forgiveness extend to anyone else?
That especially applies to Olympia’s ex-husband, Julian Markston, played by Jason Ritter, who ultimately turns out to be the person responsible for hiding the document all those years ago. He begins the season convinced of his own righteousness, refusing to accept responsibility for what happened. Over time, though, Julian evolves into a far more layered and sympathetic character, giving Ritter some of the best material of his career. I sincerely hope he isn’t sidelined in Season 3 because once he and Maddie begin seeing eye to eye, the relationship shifts in fascinating ways and opens the door to an entirely different kind of friendship.
Season 2 is ultimately about forgiveness. Maddie learns that forgiveness isn’t just something she’s capable of giving. It’s something she eventually has to ask for herself. In the middle of all of this is Edwin, who might honestly be one of the best husbands currently on television. Edwin is relationship goals. Anyone hoping for a lasting marriage should simply point to him and say, “I want that.” Not because he’s some impossibly perfect husband, but because he’s written as a genuinely compassionate, patient, and emotionally complex human being. He grieves the loss of his daughter differently than Maddie does, and the writers actually allow him to have his own emotional journey instead of existing solely to support hers. He has his own life, his own opinions, and frequently becomes an important part of the stories rather than simply waiting at home.
Their grandson Alfie also gets a stronger storyline this season. While he still occasionally helps Maddie with her investigations, much of his story revolves around the return of his biological father. The question hanging over everything is whether Alfie’s father has truly gotten clean or if he’s simply saying all the right things. Maddie and Edwin find themselves walking a difficult line between protecting Alfie and allowing him the opportunity to know his father. Once again, forgiveness becomes the central theme, but it’s never presented as something simple or automatic. Everyone has to earn it, including Maddie herself.
One of the biggest behind-the-scenes changes came midway through the season when Billy abruptly disappeared from the series following the departure of actor David Del Rio. The show handles it in a surprisingly understated way. Billy simply fades out of the story. There’s no dramatic death or elaborate explanation. His relationship quietly ends, he moves on, and life at the firm simply continues.
Honestly, I think the show is better for it. When we first met Billy and Sarah Franklin, played by Leah Lewis, they occupied almost identical spaces in the story. Both were ambitious associates trying to get noticed while also wondering why this brand-new senior citizen coworker kept leapfrogging all of them because she was simply that good. Billy and Sarah had very similar personalities, which meant they rarely challenged one another in interesting ways. Hunter changes that dynamic completely. Hunter arrives looking like an overgrown fraternity kid, but he quickly proves to be optimistic, kind, and surprisingly perceptive. More importantly, his personality contrasts beautifully with Sarah’s. She doesn’t immediately accept him as Billy’s replacement because, from her perspective, he isn’t replacing Billy at all. He’s replacing her sense of stability. The firm is entering a merger, everyone’s jobs suddenly feel uncertain, and Sarah, having already lost Olympia’s trust, spends much of the season trying to figure out where she belongs. Hunter, meanwhile, seems genuinely hurt by Sarah’s reluctance to embrace him. They don’t have years of friendship to fall back on, which makes every interaction feel fresh instead of familiar. I found them far more entertaining together than Billy and Sarah ever were.
The season also throws a fascinating curveball by temporarily incapacitating Senior, played with delicious villainy by Beau Bridges. The health scare briefly humanizes him and even strengthens his relationship with his son, but let’s not kid ourselves. Senior is still the devious old snake pulling many of the strings. More than anyone else at the firm, he’s responsible for the decisions that ultimately led to Ellie’s death. He’s also the architect behind the firm’s merger, a process that places nearly every character under a microscope as outside evaluators determine who deserves to remain once the dust settles. That looming uncertainty hangs over the entire season and gives nearly every subplot an extra layer of tension.
What I appreciated most, though, was the ending. Without spoiling anything, the writers make a genuinely bold choice that feels like a reset for the series. Maddie’s original mission finally reaches a satisfying conclusion, allowing the show to move beyond the WellBrexa storyline that has driven it for two full seasons. That opens the door for entirely new stories involving Maddie, Olympia, and whoever survives the restructuring. That’s also what makes Season 3 so intriguing. The finale leaves some fairly significant question marks about not only what the show will look like moving forward but who will actually still be around. I’d be shocked if Maddie, Olympia, Edwin, Alfie, Sarah, and even Evelyn weren’t back in some capacity, but characters like Hunter, Julian, and much of the rest of the firm suddenly feel far less certain. I really hope Hunter sticks around because it would be a shame to introduce such a likable character halfway through the series only to lose him before he gets a chance to become a bigger part of it.
I continue to be pleasantly surprised by Matlock. I had some reservations about stretching the original mystery into a second season, but those concerns turned out to be largely unfounded. Season 2 remains engaging, funny, emotionally satisfying, and full of genuinely heartfelt moments. Kathy Bates is, unsurprisingly, extraordinary, while Skye P. Marshall continues to grow into one of the show’s biggest strengths. Jason Ritter gets some wonderful material this season, and Beau Bridges clearly relishes playing one of television’s most quietly detestable villains.
The audio description deserves special recognition as well. It’s consistently excellent from episode to episode. The describers always seem to know exactly what information matters, fitting in as much visual detail as possible without ever becoming distracting. I rarely felt like I missed anything important, which is about the highest compliment I can give an audio description track.
I’m honestly not sure whether Season 2 is better than Season 1. It feels more like a lateral move, which is perfectly fine because it means the show has maintained the same high level of quality instead of falling victim to the sophomore slump that catches so many television series. I was completely invested throughout all 18 episodes, and by the end I found myself genuinely excited to see where Season 3 goes next. If you’ve been enjoying CBS’s current lineup of character-driven legal dramas, I think Matlock will continue to be one of the network’s strongest offerings for several more years.
And selfishly, I hope it lasts. Kathy Bates has repeatedly said this will likely be her final acting role before retirement, and she’s simply too good to lose. So if CBS is listening, keep renewing Matlock. Let Kathy Bates keep doing what she does best.
Fresh: 8.3/10
