'Law & Order' review: The world has moved on

Pictured: (l-r) Camryn Manheim as Lt.Kate Dixon, Anthony Anderson as Det.Kevin Bernard, Jeffrey Donovan as Det. Frank Cosgrove Credit: Virginia Sherwood/NBC/NBC
SERIES "Law & Order," season 21
WHEN|WHERE Thursday at 8 p.m. on NBC/4
WHAT IT'S ABOUT A world-famous Black entertainer (played by Broadway's Norm Lewis) accused of drugging and raping over 40 women — yes, think Bill Cosby — has been released from jail on a technicality then loudly proclaims his innocence on TV. The next morning, he's found dead outside his Upper West Side luxury condo. Dets. Kevin Bernard (Anthony Anderson, reprising his original role) along with new partner Frank Cosgrove (Jeffrey Donovan) and precinct commander Lt. Kate Dixon (Camryn Manheim) have no shortage of suspects. Meanwhile, Jack McCoy (Sam Waterston) remains District Attorney, but under his command are now a pair of smart, ambitious prosecutors: E.A.D.A. Nolan Price (Hugh Dancy) and A.D.A Samantha Maroun (Odelya Halevi).
The last time "L & O" aired: May 24, 2010.
MY SAY The return of "Law & Order '' is like the return of an old friend who has gone missing 12 years and has scarcely changed at all. You marvel but are also confounded: The passing years have ravaged you. Why not your friend?
One obvious reason is that unlike that fanciful friend, "L&O" never entirely went away. Its progeny fills TV and that metronomic Dick Wolf story tempo does as well. From "SVU'' to "FBI," the beat goes on and the beat remains ever the same. Donovan's Cosgrove has a line that perfectly sums up the narrative tension that has consumed these hundreds of hours of television about flawed cops, a flawed justice system, and flawed outcomes: "I catch 'em, you cook 'em," he tells Dancy's Price. "This is how this is supposed to work." Supposed to, rarely does, or at least before the last commercial break.
Nevertheless, our time capsule TV friend doesn't seem to realize that the real world of New York City jurisprudence has changed over the intervening years. Rather than reflect those, this opener tends to fall back on tropes. Cosgrove is old school, while Bernard and Dixon are new school pragmatists. Their counterparts in the "order" half still struggle over due process, while McCoy still assumes the Solomonic role in those pretrial "sidebar" debates. Jack even quaintly worries (still!) over how something will play on "the front page." Message from the future to Jack: "Front pages'' don't really count anymore. Pull out your smartphone, assuming you have one. That's what counts.
Moreover, tackling — or rather re-purposing — Cosby also feels like old business, or unfinished business. "SVU" tried a couple of times but the related storylines in episodes from 2015 and '16 were so tangential that they could have been applied to any celebrity accused of rape. This opener simply changes Cosby's name then re-imagines a shockingly different outcome after his release from jail. "L&O" doesn't appear to know how problematic the optics of this murder are (victim shot multiple times, then left dead on the sidewalk), nor how troubling its implications. Ripping a case from the headlines is "L&O's" birthright, after all, but bowdlerizing a highly-charged sexual abuse criminal case that has left dozens of victims in its wake just feels cheap. At its best, "L&O" was better (or subtler) than that.
Sure, our old TV friend does feel out of step — 12 years absence will do that — but a little more evidence of evolution instead of stasis would help. TV hasn't stood still all these years. No reason "L&O'' should have either.
BOTTOM LINE "L&O" is back, but it doesn't make a strong case for why it should be.
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