If you’ve ever sat through a family dinner that felt more like a deposition, you’ll probably find a kindred spirit in Abigail Bianchi. The Family Law Canadian TV series season 1 kicked off with a premise that feels both incredibly specific and painfully universal: a high-functioning alcoholic lawyer hits rock bottom so hard she bounces into the one place she swore she’d never go. Her father’s firm.
It’s messy.
The show, which premiered on Global in Canada before finding a massive audience on The CW and various streaming platforms, doesn't try to be Suits. It isn't sleek. Nobody is strutting down glass hallways in $5,000 heels without a hair out of place. Instead, Abby (played by Jewel Staite) shows up to her first day of work with a stained blouse and a history of very public failures.
The Setup You Might Have Missed
The core of the show is the "Svensson & Svensson" law firm. It’s run by Harry Svensson, played by the legendary Victor Garber. If you know Garber from Alias or Titanic, you know he does "disappointed but authoritative father" better than anyone in the business.
Abby is forced to work there because she’s on probation. After a very public, very drunken meltdown in court, the Law Society basically tells her she can’t practice law unless she’s supervised by a senior member of the bar. Enter Harry. The catch? Harry abandoned Abby and her mother decades ago to start a new family. Twice.
So, Abby finds herself working alongside two half-siblings she barely knows and actively dislikes. There’s Daniel (Zach Smadu), the "perfect" son who feels constantly overlooked, and Lucy (Genelle Williams), a psychologist who handles the emotional fallout of the firm’s cases.
It’s a recipe for disaster. Honestly, it’s a miracle they get any work done at all.
Why Season 1 Hits Different
Most legal procedurals focus on the "who dunnit" or the "how do we win." This show cares way more about the "how did we get this broken."
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In the pilot, we see Abby trying to navigate her own separation from her husband, Frank, while simultaneously arguing cases for clients who are doing the exact same thing. It’s meta in a way that feels grounded rather than clever. You see her projecting her own rage onto the opposing counsel, and then getting called out for it by her father.
The writing in Family Law Canadian TV series season 1 avoids that weirdly polished "Aaron Sorkin" vibe where everyone has a witty comeback ready in two seconds. People stumble. They say the wrong thing. They're petty.
Take the episode "Parenthood." It deals with a surrogate who decides she wants to keep the baby. It’s a standard legal trope, sure. But the show anchors it in Abby’s own struggle to be a "part-time" mom to her kids while living in her mother’s spare room. She’s grieving her old life while fighting for people who are trying to build new ones.
The Vancouver Factor
Can we talk about the setting? Usually, Vancouver plays New York, Chicago, or some nameless "City, USA." Here, it’s actually Vancouver. You see the rain. You see the glass towers of Coal Harbour.
There’s a specific Canadian-ness to the legal proceedings too. You aren't seeing people scream "I object!" every five minutes like they're in an episode of Law & Order. The Canadian legal system, especially family court, is often more about mediation and "the best interests of the child."
This nuance matters. It changes the stakes. It's not about a "guilty" or "not guilty" verdict; it’s about figuring out who gets the dog on weekends or how to split a pension without destroying two lives.
Breaking Down the Characters (The Non-Symmetrical Version)
Abby Bianchi is the heart of the wreckage. Jewel Staite brings this frantic, vibrating energy to the role. She’s smart—maybe the smartest person in the room—but she’s an absolute disaster at managing her own impulses. She drinks because she’s overwhelmed, then she’s overwhelmed because she drinks. It’s a cycle many viewers found refreshing to see portrayed without the usual "After School Special" melodrama.
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Harry Svensson is... well, he’s kind of a jerk. He’s charming, yes. He’s a brilliant lawyer. But he’s also a man who has three different families with three different women and seems to think that providing a paycheck makes up for decades of absence. Watching him try to "mentor" Abby while she actively hates him is the best part of the season.
Then you have Daniel. He’s the one who stayed. He’s the one who did everything right. And yet, the moment the "prodigal daughter" returns, he’s pushed to the side. His resentment isn't just a plot point; it’s the engine for half the conflict in the office.
Lastly, Lucy. She’s the bridge. Being a psychologist in a law firm is a thankless job, but she provides the empathy that the Svensson men (and Abby) often lack.
The Realism of the Law Cases
Family law is gross. Not in a "blood and guts" way, but in a "humans being their worst selves" way.
Season 1 tackles some genuinely uncomfortable stuff:
- Adult adoption (why would a 40-year-old want to be adopted?)
- Religious freedom vs. medical necessity for children.
- The nightmare of "nesting" arrangements where parents move in and out of the house.
- How social media ruins custody battles.
The show doesn't always give the "happy" ending. Sometimes the "win" is just a slightly less terrible loss. That’s the reality of the Canadian family court system.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Show
People think it’s a comedy because of the "dysfunctional family" tag. It’s not. Or at least, it’s not just a comedy. It’s a dramedy that leans heavily into the "drama" side when it counts.
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If you go in expecting Modern Family with law degrees, you’re going to be disappointed. It’s much darker than that. It’s about the cost of ego.
Key Takeaways for New Viewers
If you're just starting your binge-watch, pay attention to the background details. The show uses Abby’s wardrobe and the state of her apartment (or her mom’s house) to track her sobriety and mental state far more effectively than any monologue ever could.
Also, watch the way Harry interacts with his staff compared to his children. He’s a better boss than he is a father, which is a classic trope, but Garber plays it with a specific type of coldness that makes you understand why Abby is so damaged.
How to Watch and What to Do Next
The Family Law Canadian TV series season 1 consists of 10 episodes. Each one is roughly 42 minutes. It’s a quick watch, but it stays with you.
- Check Local Listings: In Canada, it’s on Global TV and the Global TV App. In the US, it’s been a staple on The CW and can often be found on various VOD platforms.
- Look for the Nuance: Pay attention to the "Law Society" subplots. It’s a realistic look at how professional licensing works for lawyers who have substance abuse issues.
- Follow the Creators: Susin Nielsen, the showrunner, has a background in writing complex, character-driven stories (like Degrassi and Robson Arms). Her influence is why the show feels so "lived-in."
Once you finish season 1, you’ll likely want to jump straight into season 2, where the fallout from Abby’s choices truly starts to manifest. The show only gets more complicated as it goes, which is exactly how family law—and life—tends to work.
Stop looking for a perfect legal hero. Abby isn't it. She’s just a person trying to keep her license and her kids, one awkward court appearance at a time. That’s why we watch.