‘Strip Law’ Review: Adam Scott’s Chaotic Animated Netflix Series Is as Deliriously Distracting as Sin City

“Strip Law,” like the ideal Las Vegas experience, flies by in a blur. I mean that mostly as a compliment, considering creator Cullen Crawford’s animated series — about a stodgy attorney who, to better serve his debased Sin City clientele, reinvents himself as a courtroom showman — aspires to be little more than a pleasing distraction.

Sure, given the state of things, it could function as an allegory for America: The same outrageous, all-consuming ruckus that once made The Strip a no-brains-allowed vacation destination has spread beyond the desert oasis to sports bars and living rooms across the country. Now that citizens can stare dumbfounded into the same distracting bright lights (and gambling gateways) via ever-present screens, the whole of the United States has essentially transformed into the hellscape once confined to Nevada’s southern tip.

But Netflix‘s original comedy (produced by Underground and Titmouse Inc.) isn’t interested in allegories. Not really. It’s interested in spectacle, absurdity, and laughs, and it’s invested in holding your attention, despite ample temptations elsewhere. Over the course of its 10-episode first season, it does just enough to earn all four, making it an odd little success for anyone in need of an escape.

To its credit, “Strip Law” wastes no time setting expectations. Clocking in under 40 seconds, the opening title sequence tells you everything you need to know as it races through an introduction to the show’s (slightly) heightened setting. A night out in Vegas. Glowing sign after glowing sign. There’s the Canadian nightclub, “Calgary Calgary,” a hot dog stand in Old Vegas named “Ye Olde Hotte Dogue,” and a local grocer called “SeXXXual Grocery Store” (complete with a picture of suggestive plums and a sign with just the words, “Big Melons”). Ads are everywhere, whether it’s a billboard for Circumcisions by Elvis (“Let the King do his thing”) or Carrot Bottom Live (a topless carrot — there’s no torso — with two orange sticks for legs and a disturbing butt primed for the juicer).

Even the cast is introduced via marketing posters. Lincoln Gumb (voiced by Adam Scott) and Sheila Flambe (Janelle James) share a banner looming over a seedy streetcorner, a fitting overture for an odd couple whose unique attributes complement each other perfectly. Gumb, the son of a heralded local attorney, knows the ins and outs of the law well, but his monotone presentation flat-lines in front of a judge and jury. He needs a little pizzazz, a little style, a little showmanship to connect with a city that’s grown accustomed to 24/7 entertainment.

Enter Sheila, a street magician blackballed by the local boys club who wows Lincoln with her tips-only act. “I’ve got my mom’s lawyer smarts,” Lincoln says. “You’ve got her razzle-matazzle.” Together, they can book clients and win cases within the… unique environs of a Vegas courtroom. (One judge doles out damages with a Dr. Evil impression. Another gets beheaded with a guillotine.) It’s a crazy gambit for a crazy world, and it just might work!

‘Strip Law’Courtesy of Netflix

OK, not always, but the premise and setting form a sturdy-enough foundation for the madness to come. With more than a wink toward its TV genre — the pilot is titled “Finally, a Show About Lawyers” and the finale is deranged “Franklin & Bash” fan-fiction (or anti-fan fiction?) — “Strip Law” knows it’s the ridiculous cousin to “Night Court” and “Ally McBeal.” But rather than let meta references guide the plot, the half-hour sitcom takes off on wild tangents that are easy to get lost in, even when that’s not the main intention.

Everything contributes to the show’s unrelenting pace, which is overwhelming no matter how closely you track the shenanigans. A little more time and attention toward character development could help viewers form a connection with the cast (who, led by voice-acting MVPs James and Stephen Root, do a bang-up job elevating the farce and landing their punchlines). Plus, seeding stories with personal growth needn’t get in the way of “Strip Law’s” modus operandi of nonstop chaos — in an ungrounded animated sitcom, they don’t even have to age, let alone change. We just need something substantial to hold onto amid all the swirling sands.

Still, an unchecked imagination has its own charms. When the “Strip Law” title brightens the top of a taxi cab to close its credits sequence, the ad’s tagline states, “Proudly made by real, non-computer human beings.” As much is clear in the vivid animation, layered jokes, and peculiar fixations — an endearing combination that heightens what could’ve been a forgettable series.

While I’m sure artificial intelligence can churn out something as eerily repulsive as Episode 6’s haunting spoof of The California Raisins — Nevada Grown Dates, whose hyper-sexualized artistic rendering and regular presence on local TV is credited for Vegas residents’ “near-constant state of aggressive horniness” — it wouldn’t know to go there in the first place, and it definitely wouldn’t find the humor Crawford & Co. lace into the freakishly indelible parody.

Just like the city it satirizes, “Strip Law” works just fine, so long as you’re ready for the trip.

Grade: B-

“Strip Law” premieres Friday, February 20 on Netflix. All 10 episodes will be released at once.