First broadcast 25 October 1999.

Ally McBeal came to American television in September 1997, accompanied by an explosion of media coverage, water cooler conversation, and a general sense of enthused hype. It came from successful creator and producer David E. Kelley, whose previous chatty, self-aware comedy-dramas like Doogie Howser MD and Picket Fences made him the perfect poster child for a late-1990s generation of similarly arch, somewhat ironic series.

While the series sparked off more than one cultural zeitgeist moments – most viewers of late 20th century television will recall the dancing baby – it was also the target of considerable criticism and controversy. Time magazine famously asked “is feminist dead?” on its cover, visually pitting series star Calista Flockhart against second-wave feminist and activist Gloria Steinem. With the benefit of hindsight, such criticism feels… unhelpful.

It is easy to forget how progressive the series was for its time, including both in terms of genre and in representation. Themes of female sexuality – including bisexuality and sexuality as a continuum rather than a binary – were foregrounded. Toxic masculinity was exposed and questioned. Transgender characters were included. The series pushed a diverse mix of ethnicity, while its even blend of comedy and drama wound up giving the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences positive conniptions (the Emmys eventually decided on classifying it as comedy, while the entertainment press toyed with the awkward new term ‘dramedy’).

The series, which admittedly spluttered and died creatively in its fifth and final year, is now 28 years old. As is often the case with legacy television, it is worth checking back now and again to see how the series is ageing. In attempt to judge the series overall, we’re kicking off ‘mid-stream’ with a look at its third season premiere: “Car Wash”. The episode is written by creator David E. Kelley, and directed by Billy Dickson – it’s one of seven episodes he helmed.

Boston lawyer Ally McBeal (Flockhart) arrives soaking wet to work, and admits to her boss John Cage (Peter MacNicol) that she just spontaneously had sex with a stranger in a car wash. She is then tasked with helping the daughter (Tracy Middendorf) of a key client persuade a priest (Ray Walston) to perform her wedding ceremony – even though he caught her having an affair behind her fiancée’s back. Ally’s situation grows complicated when she discovers the fiancée (Jason Gedrick) is the same man from the car wash.

In all honesty, the level of coincidence required for Kelley’s plot to function is absolutely absurd. What makes it at least partially work – and do think the episode can only count as partial success – are the opportunities it does deliver to the cast for some well-executed comedy that are both rooted in character and palpably awkward. There is one genuine laugh-out-loud moment, between Flockhart and guest star Ray Walston, that almost makes the entire 42 minutes worthwhile.

The tone, the musical score, and the very theatricalised dialogue all make this very much an artefact of its time: not so much dated, but certainly aged. The odd little fantasy moments – when Ally stares daggers at Cage when he misspeaks, her eyes literally shoot cartoon daggers into his chest – once felt cute, but now feel very out of place. The episode’s treatment of sexuality is, by 21st century standards, all over the place. It is good to see Ally not get wildly shamed by the writing for having sex, and Cage’s awkwardness over his own sexual performance is achieved with humour and sensitivity. A sub-plot in which series regular Lisa Nicole Carson and guest Dyan Cannon audition male receptionist candidates by having them take off their shots aims for playful, but now just feels flat-out unlikeable. To be honest, I suspect it did at the time.

Revisiting the series via this episode ultimately showcases what was always its strongest asset: its cast. Flockhart and MacNicol are great, while fellow performers Lucy Liu (delightfully spiteful) and Jane Krakowski (delightfully absurd) add enormous entertainment value. You can still see where Ally McBeal broke ground and pushed boundaries, but it is fair to say that in the past two-and-a-half decades those boundaries have thankfully continued to move. What is left today can feel a little retrograde, but context is – as always – important.