Annalise Keating wasn't supposed to be likable. Honestly, if you look at the original pilot script for Viola Davis in How to Get Away with Murder, the character was a whirlwind of sharp suits and terrifying intellect, but she lacked the soul that eventually made her a cultural icon. Then Viola showed up. She didn't just play a lawyer; she deconstructed the very idea of what a Black woman is allowed to be on primetime television.
It changed things. Seriously.
Before the show premiered in 2014, the "prestige TV" lead was usually a brooding white man with a drinking problem and a complicated marriage. Think Don Draper. Think Walter White. But Peter Nowalk and Shonda Rhimes handed the keys to a dark, twisty, legal thriller to a middle-aged Black woman who wasn't interested in being your "TV mom" or a sassy sidekick. She was the predator. She was the victim. Usually, she was both in the same sixty-minute block.
The Moment Everything Shifted
You know the scene. Everyone knows the scene.
In the first season, there is a moment where Annalise Keating sits at her vanity. She's alone. Slowly, methodically, she peels off her eyelashes. She wipes away the heavy foundation. Finally, she removes her wig.
This wasn't just a plot point. It was a revolution.
Viola Davis actually fought for that. She told the producers that if she was going to play this woman, she had to be "real." In her own words during various interviews later, she mentioned that she didn't want to play a version of a woman that only existed in a stylist’s imagination. She wanted the mess. By removing that wig, she exposed the vulnerability underneath the armor of a high-powered defense attorney. It’s arguably one of the most significant moments in the history of Black women on screen because it rejected the "Strong Black Woman" trope in favor of something much more human and fragile.
Why Annalise Keating Was So Different
Television usually likes its heroes to be "good" or at least "right." Annalise was rarely either.
She manipulated her students—the Keating Five. She framed lovers. She lied to the police. She was a functioning alcoholic who frequently spiraled into self-destruction. Yet, we couldn't look away. Part of that is the writing, sure, but most of it is the sheer gravitational pull of Viola Davis. She has this way of using her entire body to convey grief. Have you ever noticed how she snot-cries? Most actors try to look pretty when they weep. Viola doesn't care about looking pretty. She cares about truth.
The show's structure helped, too. Those flash-forwards were stressful. Every season followed a similar formula: a murder happens in the future, and we spend half the season figuring out how we got there. It was frantic. It was messy. But at the center was always Annalise, trying to keep her "children" (the students) from going to jail, even as they resented her for it.
Breaking the Emmy Ceiling
In 2015, the industry finally caught up. Viola Davis won the Primetime Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series.
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She was the first Black woman to ever win that specific award. Her speech is still legendary. She quoted Harriet Tubman. She talked about the "line" that separates women of color from everyone else, noting that the only thing that differentiates them is opportunity. You can't win an Emmy for roles that simply don't exist. By taking on the role of Annalise, she created the opportunity for herself and proved to the suits in Hollywood that a show led by a dark-skinned Black woman could be a global, top-rated juggernaut.
The Complicated Legacy of the Keating Five
While the show was titled How to Get Away with Murder, it was really a study in trauma bonding.
Wes, Connor, Michaela, Asher, and Laurel weren't just students. They were her accomplices. The dynamic was toxic, frankly. She broke them down to build them up in her own image. If you rewatch the series now, you see the patterns of emotional abuse, but you also see a strange, distorted kind of love. Annalise didn't have children of her own—a source of immense pain explored through her backstory with her husband Sam—so she projected all that maternal instinct onto these five deeply flawed twenty-somethings.
It wasn't always perfect.
By season 4 or 5, the plot got... well, let’s be real, it got a bit wild. The conspiracies grew so large they almost swallowed the characters. There were secret brothers, mysterious offshore accounts, and more murders than one law school could reasonably handle. Some critics felt the show lost its way in the later years. But even when the writing felt like it was jumping the shark, Viola Davis remained grounded. She was the anchor. You’d believe the most ridiculous plot twist simply because her reaction to it felt so visceral and earned.
How the Show Handled Social Issues
Unlike many procedurals that "rip from the headlines" in a tacky way, this show felt like it had something to say.
- Systemic Racism: The show tackled the disparate treatment of Black defendants in the legal system long before it was a "trendy" topic for networks.
- LGBTQ+ Representation: The relationship between Connor Walsh and Oliver Hampton was one of the most nuanced portrayals of a gay couple on network TV, specifically regarding Oliver’s HIV-positive diagnosis. It wasn't treated as a "very special episode" tragedy; it was just a part of their lives.
- Intergenerational Trauma: The episodes featuring Cicely Tyson as Annalise’s mother, Ophelia Harkness, are some of the best in the series. They explained why Annalise was so guarded. They showed the scars of poverty and abuse in a way that felt incredibly specific to the American South.
Watching Viola Davis and Cicely Tyson share a screen was like watching a masterclass in acting. There was so much unsaid in their silences.
The Finale and What It Left Behind
When the show ended in 2020, it didn't go out with a whimper.
The series finale was polarizing for some, but it stayed true to the theme of survival. Annalise finally faced the music. She was put on trial for... basically everything. In a world where the legal system is designed to crush people like her, watching her defend herself in that final courtroom scene felt like the perfect closing circle. She didn't "get away with murder" in the literal sense of every crime, but she survived the system that tried to destroy her.
The flash-forward at the very end—showing a much older Eve and the ultimate fate of the students—gave fans the closure they needed. It reminded us that life goes on, even after the most horrific traumas. Annalise lived a long, full, complicated life.
Practical Takeaways for Fans and Creatives
If you’re looking to dive back into the world of Viola Davis in How to Get Away with Murder, or if you’re a storyteller trying to learn from its success, keep these things in mind:
- Character over likability. Don't be afraid to make your protagonist "difficult." If the performance is grounded in truth, the audience will follow them anywhere.
- Vulnerability is a superpower. The "wig removal" scene proved that stripping away the persona is more compelling than the persona itself.
- Representation matters for the "ugly" parts too. We don't just need "perfect" heroes of color; we need characters who are allowed to be messy, wrong, and morally grey.
- Watch the guest stars. If you want to see how to hold your own against a powerhouse like Davis, study the performances of Liza Weil (Bonnie) and Charlie Weber (Frank). They did a lot of the heavy lifting that allowed Annalise to be the lightning rod.
The series is currently streaming on various platforms like Netflix (depending on your region), and it holds up remarkably well for a binge-watch. It’s a relic of an era where "appointment television" still existed, but its impact on how we view Black womanhood in media is permanent. Viola Davis didn't just play a role; she kicked the door down for everyone coming after her.
What to do next:
Start by rewatching the Season 1 finale to see how the "night of the murder" puzzle pieces finally fit together—it's still one of the most satisfying payoffs in TV history. Then, check out Viola Davis's memoir, Finding Me, to understand the real-life experiences she poured into the character of Annalise.