Strip Law

Most fans of edgy cartoons, and comedy in general, will love Strip Law’s shameless pursuit of debased jokes, along with its casino-like overstimulation.

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.

The series felt a little off-putting at first, as if it were straining for effect, but gathered steam as it went on, either because the later episodes are weirder or better written, or because one just gets used to being in that world with those people.

Satire, even manic stuff like this, needs perspective just as much as joke velocity. Strip Law stands accused of biffing a solid concept, though its enthusiasm in doing so is hardly a crime.

It’s all reasonably amusing, but there’s nothing to distinguish it from the raft of other animated sitcoms that have emerged in recent years.

While Strip Law has its moments, it’s most a loud, gag-heavy comedy that doesn’t really take its time to make its main characters into real people.

If you asked me to explain why I found it very difficult to build a connection to the show that goes deeper than “I can’t wait to see what weird ’80s thing they’ll acknowledge next,” it’s that, for all their checklist of traumas (well-summarized with gynecological specificity in the penultimate episode), none of the characters in Strip Law feel like…people.