Although not without some flaws, "Trial at Tablerock," written by Gene Roddenberry, is definitely in my top dozen in this series. In Tablerock, Arizona territory, Paladin is required to assume the role of defense attorney for a particularly sullen and deadly gunfighter who is, nonetheless railroaded; and since Paladin stands for truth and justice, he manages to finagle an infuriated, and rather immature court official into actually requesting that Paladin defend a killer, one who killed, in this instance, purely in self defense, which makes this episode unique, in that sense, among the other 224 episodes stretching over six seasons.
Barry Kelley, who played the sheriff in "The Prisoner," an earlier episode, again portrays a seemingly weak court official who rises to the occasion motivated by Paladin's intense drive for fairness. The entire court proceedings will remind the reader of this review a bit of "Anatomy of a Murder" perhaps in the sense that nothing is as it seems.
Women, however, do not play a central dramatic role -only one docile bar girl who, mysteriously, hangs on Paladin's arm in the beginning of the episode, an action that has no particular motivation, nor does it serve any specialized dramatic function.
As in a couple of other "Have Gun-Will Travel" stories, Paladin's encyclopedic knowledge of law coupled with his skill at thinking adroitly on his feet turn the tumblers of the plot. The shift in tone, mid-way through the trial elicits strange legal bedfellows.
Roddenberry wrote 24 of these episodes for the series; and if you are a big fan of "Star Trek" (the original sixties series), you will note that he is very talented at questioning authority here, too, as well as pushing controversy out into the open.
For an actor's actor, like Richard Boone, who desperately craved some dramatic stimulation as a form of relief from 225 episodes in which the camera was on homed in on him in almost every frame, the chance to wield different kinds of acting chops was what the man was living for.
Barry Kelley, who played the sheriff in "The Prisoner," an earlier episode, again portrays a seemingly weak court official who rises to the occasion motivated by Paladin's intense drive for fairness. The entire court proceedings will remind the reader of this review a bit of "Anatomy of a Murder" perhaps in the sense that nothing is as it seems.
Women, however, do not play a central dramatic role -only one docile bar girl who, mysteriously, hangs on Paladin's arm in the beginning of the episode, an action that has no particular motivation, nor does it serve any specialized dramatic function.
As in a couple of other "Have Gun-Will Travel" stories, Paladin's encyclopedic knowledge of law coupled with his skill at thinking adroitly on his feet turn the tumblers of the plot. The shift in tone, mid-way through the trial elicits strange legal bedfellows.
Roddenberry wrote 24 of these episodes for the series; and if you are a big fan of "Star Trek" (the original sixties series), you will note that he is very talented at questioning authority here, too, as well as pushing controversy out into the open.
For an actor's actor, like Richard Boone, who desperately craved some dramatic stimulation as a form of relief from 225 episodes in which the camera was on homed in on him in almost every frame, the chance to wield different kinds of acting chops was what the man was living for.
