‘The Rainmaker’ Review: USA’s John Grisham Adaptation Ditches the Book’s Cynicism for More Frivolous Pleasures
Released in 1995, John Grisham‘s The Rainmaker is a taut thriller driven by relentless cynicism toward the state of the legal profession and simmering rage at the state of the health insurance industry. Francis Ford Coppola’s 1997 adaptation, featuring Matt Damon, Danny DeVito and a deliciously venal Jon Voight, only upped the ante on the frustration generated by two sectors sacrificing ideals for profit.
The fact that, 30 years later, the sources of Grisham’s irritation remain ought to make USA’s new series adaptation of The Rainmaker incredibly timely, even if the title of its IP is dated.
Instead, USA and series developers Michael Seitzman and Jason Richman are eying a different kind of throwback — not to the ’90s, when the industry’s biggest names were latching onto even the most marginal of Grisham titles for guaranteed box office, but to the ’00s and ’10s, when the cable network’s “Blue Sky” brand churned out reliable, if occasionally interchangeable, hits.
Maybe the team behind The Rainmaker felt that political ire was incompatible with a rejuvenated attempt at Blue Sky television. Maybe there was fear that a direct attack on all things failed in American healthcare would automatically make the show about Luigi Mangione, even if it isn’t?
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Whatever the reason, through its first five episodes, The Rainmaker is a somewhat satisfying, thoroughly conventional legal thriller offering very few rough edges or opportunities for viewers to venture out of its fictional universe and into conversation with the real world. It’s safe, a little bit cowardly, and yet still entertaining enough, carried by Grisham’s thriller mechanics and a strong supporting cast led by John Slattery and Lana Parrilla.
Stepping into the role played by Damon in the film, British actor Milo Callaghan is Rudy Baylor, who has overcome a rough childhood and family tragedy to graduate at the top of his law school class. Rudy is about to start a job at Tinley Britt, the poshest of Charleston law firms, joining his smart, privileged girlfriend, Sarah (Madison Iseman).
On his first day at work, Rudy has a disagreement with senior partner Leo Drummond (John Slattery) and gets promptly fired.
Caught in between hiring cycles, Rudy is desperate and finds himself at the barely refurbished “Taco Hut” that serves as an office for ethically unscrupulous Bruiser Stone (Parrilla). She offers him a job working on contingency alongside jovial ambulance chaser Deck Shifflet (P.J. Byrne), a so-called “para-lawyer,” meaning he’s finished law school but failed the bar exam seven times.
Rudy arrives at his new firm with two cases, acquired at a free legal services event: An estate client who’s never mentioned again and Dot Black (Karen Bryson, providing much-needed gravity), a grieving mother whose son went into the hospital with the flu and died. The hospital system claims he died because of drug addiction, but Dot insists her son was clean and something bad occurred in the hospital, which happens to be represented by Tinley Britt.
What does this have to do with the series’ opening scene, in which nurse Melvin (Dan Fogler, whose recognizability counts as an early spoiler) escapes from a burning apartment, unable to save his mother? Or with Kelly Riker (Robyn Cara), Rudy’s neighbor with a clearly abusive husband?
Turning the series’ main case from an object lesson in institutional corruption into a very specific and contained crime — because this is a TV show, the presence of a serial killer borders on inevitable — denies The Rainmaker any kind of actual substance. The creators lean into the shadier side of the law with comic undertones; the result more closely resembles Suits than anything else. That makes sense since the Netflix-spawned resurrection of Suits played no small part in USA’s return to original programming (ignore the abject failure of Suits LA).
While early director and cinematographer Russell Lee Fine didn’t work on that Blue Sky show, he was a regular contributor on White Collar and Graceland, so he knows the formula requires a little humor, a little sexiness and enough darkness to keep viewers engaged but not uncomfortable. Nothing in The Rainmaker lingers, nothing preoccupies and no matter matter how much the show wants to deride certain versions of practicing the law — the generic credit sequence is just a floating sea of legal terms — there’s none of the thrown-down “The whole system is out of order!” gauntlet that ultimately made The Rainmaker the sharpest of Grisham’s bestsellers. It’s more “There’s a lot of injustice to this here justice system,” making a vague but generally indisputable point that doesn’t preclude subsequent seasons. This kind of law might be gross, but it’s fun!
Vagueness abounds, especially in the show’s location. Some of the settings are extremely well chosen and designed, particularly the tawdry Taco Hut law offices (in contrast to the chic modernity of the Tinsley Britt workplace) and a dingy seaside diner where people keep having meetings. But the show could be set anywhere (it was mainly filmed in Ireland), underlined by how many of the supporting actors are Irish or British and definitely don’t sound like they’re from anywhere near South Carolina.
In that respect, relatively unknown leading man Callaghan is a primary offender. He conveys a fiery disposition and character-appropriate stubbornness, but playing a guy who’s supposed to be Southern and blue-collar, he comes across as a Cambridge-educated lad who would call cookies “biscuits.” He and Iseman have a very steamy — by PG-13 standards — chemistry, which somewhat justifies the inclusion of Sarah, who thus far is a very predictable character seemingly dropped in from a different story. They’re two versions of how being a lawyer can mean selling your soul, but her version isn’t all that interesting.
The series comes to life primarily when Slattery and Parrilla are around. He’s imperious and reptilian, and even when you know what a small percentage of Slattery’s skill set this is using, if a hissable adversary is required, he delivers. Parrilla has the more complex role; Bruiser is unprincipled and lacking in shame, yet generally correct and fair. It’s delightful to imagine somebody watching Coppola’s movie and saying, “You know who works as the TV version of Mickey Rourke? Lana Parrilla!” and it’s enjoyable watching this frequently underutilized character actress getting a part this meaty. Ditto with Byrne, another “That Guy” regular, getting to blend nerdiness and sliminess as the always-eating Deck.
In the slickest of terms, I might define the Blue Sky brand as “Easygoing even when supporting characters are dying” and that’s where The Rainmaker finds its sweet spot. It glides along on the strength of its genially sleazy characters, lightly surprising plot twists and a wall-to-wall soundtrack of smooth country needle drops. And if you think that a show with this much murder, spousal abuse and malfeasance should have a bit more weight to it? Well, that’s just not the case The Rainmaker has taken on.
