TL;DR: NBC’s Suits LA stumbles through a confused season and a finale that brings closure without satisfaction. A promising cast and hints of thematic weight can’t overcome muddled storytelling and a derivative tone.

Introduction: From Streaming Gold to Spinoff Bronze

Back in the halcyon days of 2023, original Suits reruns were dominating Netflix like it was 2011 all over again. Suddenly, Harvey Specter memes were back in vogue, and every aspiring law student was revisiting Pearson Hardman’s golden age. NBC, sensing blood in the water—or at least lucrative nostalgia—fast-tracked a spin-off: Suits LA. Stephen Amell, best known for brooding with a bow in Arrow, was cast as Ted Black, a disgraced federal prosecutor seeking redemption on the sunlit boulevards of Los Angeles.

It had promise. Or at least, it had potential, in the way a mid-tier law student might have a promising career in municipal defense—respectable, not revolutionary. But 13 episodes later, the gavel has come down: Suits LA is done. And if the finale is any indication, maybe that’s for the best.

The Curse of the Identity Crisis

From day one, Suits LA seemed unsure of what courtroom it belonged in. Was it a legal drama about Hollywood corruption? A mob thriller? A tortured family saga? Depending on the episode—and sometimes within a single act—it tried to be all three. This tonal whiplash was especially apparent in the finale, which toggled between deeply personal tragedy and almost cartoonish villainy.

We returned, again, to Ted’s past. His brother’s death. The treachery of his father. The unresolved tension with former FBI agent Kevin. All of which would be compelling if we hadn’t already watched it drip-fed in increasingly redundant flashbacks over 12 episodes. By the time the finale brought the explosion scene back into frame, it felt less like a climactic reveal and more like the writers saying, “Hey, remember this?” Yes. We do. Unfortunately.

The Characters Who Could Have Carried It

What made Suits work—what really made it bingeable—wasn’t just the clever cases or tailored suits. It was the chemistry. Mike and Harvey had a snarky, heartfelt, mentor-mentee bond. Jessica was elegance with a steel core. Donna was the MVP of every room.

In Suits LA, there were glimmers of that. Rosalyn, Ted’s brash and brilliant assistant, brought energy every time she was on screen. Samantha and Rick, similarly, had potential as dynamic players in a chaotic firm. But instead of letting these characters breathe, the show buried them under exposition dumps and awkward B-plots. Rosalyn’s #MeToo storyline could have been powerful—timely, relevant, and grounded in her own strength. Instead, we got a quick monologue in a kitchen and a deus ex HR file.

Even the central love triangle—Ted caught between Amanda and Samantha—felt like leftovers from a cancelled soap opera. You can practically hear the offscreen cue cards labeled “flirt,” “simmering tension,” and “make out dramatically before commercial break.” It wasn’t bad so much as it was tired.

Stephen Amell Deserved Better

Let’s talk about Stephen Amell. The guy tried. Hard. He wasn’t Harvey Specter—no one is—but he brought an earnest intensity to Ted Black. Unfortunately, he was saddled with a character that spent more time reacting to past trauma than defining any future vision. Where Harvey carved out a kingdom in Manhattan, Ted shuffled around LA like a man waiting for a parking ticket to expire.

Amell’s best scenes were quieter moments: reckoning with his complicity in his brother’s death, sparring (emotionally) with Samantha over trust, or quietly admitting he still isn’t sure if he belongs in this shiny, morally murky city. In a better show, he would have flourished.

The Final Verdict on the Final Episode

As finales go, it wasn’t a disaster. It was… fine. Ted and Samantha’s takedown of Avery Jeffers had stakes and some emotional weight, and Rosalyn’s moment of catharsis—though too brief—was the closest the show came to resonance. Rick and Erica finally resolved their tension in a way that didn’t feel entirely contrived, and the merger tease offered a tantalizing glimpse of what a more confident Season 2 might’ve been.

But “fine” isn’t good enough. Not when you’re trying to step into the shoes of one of cable’s last great lawyer dramas. The finale wrapped up loose ends, sure—but it also made painfully clear how much narrative fat should’ve been trimmed, how many character arcs deserved more time, and how the show never knew what it wanted to be.

Suits LA was a missed opportunity. With a capable lead, a world of legal intrigue, and some genuinely interesting ideas, it could have been the next great legal drama. Instead, it became a textbook example of franchise fatigue. NBC hoped lightning would strike twice; what they got was a flicker of something bright that just couldn’t survive the glare of its own legacy.

Rest in peace, Suits LA. Court is adjourned—for good.