How Ike Barinholtz’s Dad Landed at the Lovable Center of Amazon Freevee’s ‘Jury Duty’

Alan Barinholtz was 40-plus years into his Chicago-based legal career when his actor son, Ike, called with an opportunity: A friend of a friend was in search of a retired or semi-retired lawyer or judge with improv experience for an upcoming TV series. Might he be interested?

All Alan would need to do was put himself on tape, something Ike and his actor brother, Jon, could help him with when he and their mother arrived in Los Angeles. They were already planning to be out in L.A. later that week for their annual Thanksgiving visit, so the then-70-year-old figured, “What the hell.”  

For at least a few decades, Alan, who had gotten a BFA in theater from Ohio State some 50 years earlier, had been living vicariously through his sons’ Hollywood careers. Ike had worked his way up through the comedy scene, ultimately landing on The Mindy Project, which paved the way for a fruitful career in front of the camera (White House Plumbers, The Afterparty) and behind (History of the World, Part II, The Oath). Ike’s younger brother, Jon, had followed in his footsteps; his breakout role came on the network comedy Superstore, and now he stars in NBC’s American Auto. When either of the Barinholtz boys would come back home to Chicago, they’d typically appear at one of their old improv haunts, and it wasn’t unusual for them to bring their father up on stage. “And he was always funny,” says Ike.

In truth, Alan had dabbled in the world of standup and improv himself when he was still selling radio time out of college. But by 26, he’d already pivoted to law, getting into Loyola law school on the day that Ike was born. “I thought that that was a good omen,” he says over Zoom. Over the course of his career, he has primarily served as a litigator, working on cases involving personal injury, professional malpractice, contract disputes, civil rights and class action suits. Then, at 70, Alan found himself in Ike’s backyard office, shooting his first audition. By that time, someone from the casting directors’ office had reached out, telling Alan that the Amazon Freevee project, which would later be titled Jury Duty, would be a mockumentary sitcom, “a combination of Curb Your Enthusiasm meets Borat.” Without too many more details, Ike stood off-camera and teed up his dad: “Tell me who you are,” he said, “and tell me about this recent trial.”

Alan started improvising, borrowing the name of a judge that he’d appeared before many times in his own career. “I just go, ‘I’ve been with the Circuit Court of Cook County for 28 years, and this is the oddest thing I’ve ever seen,” he recalls saying. Ike, still off camera, prodded: “What do you mean?” For the next minute or so, Alan just went for it, riffing for the camera. “My brother and I were looking at the tape [after he finished], and we were both like, ‘Woah, he’s really good,’” says Ike. The casting director agreed. In fact, the very next day, Alan got a note that he was “a strong pin” for the part of the judge, which his sons had to explain was promising feedback.

A month or so later, Alan was invited to Zoom with the series’ director, Jake Szymanski, who mostly wanted to be sure he wouldn’t require living expenses. “He said, ‘If we cast you, would you be willing to come out here [to L.A.]? And I’d already talked about it with my wife briefly, and so I said, ‘So long as I don’t lose money,’” recounts Alan. “Later on, my kids said to me, ‘Pop, even if you lose money, you’d be nuts not to do this.” A few weeks later, he got the formal offer and signed on.

Jury Duty, Alan would learn, wasn’t like other shows. The premise itself was unique: it would chronicle the inner workings of an American jury trial through the eyes of juror Ronald Gladden, who doesn’t realize that everyone, but him, is an actor. Alan and the others, including James Marsden, rehearsed for two weeks before Gladden showed up. As the only practicing lawyer in the cast, Alan was often peppered with questions about whether something would really happen in a court room or not. Of course, this being a TV show, they wouldn’t always listen to his replies. “For example, in my experience, a judge would never pick the foreperson,” he says. “The foreperson is chosen by his or her colleagues, but for the purpose of the show, that’s okay.”

Looking back on the experience now, Alan can’t get over how comfortable he was throughout the filming process. He has to imagine it’s in part because it was improv, and in part because he was doing something he’d seen done hundreds of times over his career. The only time that he was in any way jittery was when he was tasked with revealing the truth to Gladden — that the case was fake, that he and the jurors were actors — in the series finale. “It was an honor,” Alan says, “but I also had no idea if Ron was going to break down, if he was going to turn and choke me, if he was going to say, ‘What the hell?’ and just get up and walk out. So, yeah, there was a big unknown there.” (Had things actually gone off the rails, Alan says he was prepared to take Gladden to his chambers to talk through what had just happened in a more private setting.)

In the months since wrapping his first TV series, Alan has gotten his SAG card, landed an agent and booked himself a series of additional gigs, including an episode of Apple TV’s Physical and a role in the NBC comedy pilot St. Denis Medical, which stars Mekki Leeper, who played Noah on Jury Duty, along with Wendi McLendon-Covey, Allison Tolman and David Alan Grier. The fact that Alan got to shoot a scene with Grier still blows his mind. “I’ve read for a couple of other things, too, and it’s a slow process,” he says, acknowledging: “I keep thinking, I’m 72, we have to speed this up, but then I realize, it’s a long game, and I’m okay with that.”

More recently, he’s been busy fielding kind words from former colleagues and others in his legal circle who’ve enjoyed the series. “The show obviously has broad appeal, which thrills me,” he says, “but the greatest response, from my perspective, has been from lawyers. Lawyers love, love, love this show.”

Alan’s also gotten his first taste of fame, or at least his first experience with press attention. For years, he’s come with his sons to red carpet premieres, and he’s used to filing into the theater with his wife as his boys walk the carpet. But a week or so before this Zoom, Alan had participated in a press event for the show at Universal, and, for the first time in his life, he was appointed a handler. “They were like, ‘Frankie’s your guy,’ and Frankie was terrific, but oh my god, it’s all so crazy,” he says, still semi-incredulous about what his life has become: “These people were taking my picture and interviewing me.”

His sons’ only advice, according to Alan, was “don’t say anything to embarrass us.” Beyond that, they seem to be loving every minute of their father’s second act. In fact, Ike has joked that his dad is the new poster child for what he’s dubbing the “reverse nepo baby movement.” Asked about it now, Alan howls with laughter, and then says: “You’re looking at Nepo Dad.”