A court system is layered not to make things slower but because the levels do genuinely different work.

The trial court hears witnesses, examines documents and determines what occurred. This is the only level that does so, which is why its findings are so difficult to disturb later — the appellate judges did not see the witnesses.
An appeal usually asks whether the law was applied correctly, not whether the outcome felt right. A litigant convinced the court got the facts wrong often discovers that this is precisely the argument an appeal is least able to hear.
Most systems route matters by subject — family, commercial, administrative, criminal — and by value or seriousness. Filing in the wrong forum wastes months, and the rules allocating cases are technical and unforgiving.
In some systems a higher court's reasoning binds every court below it; in others it is persuasive but not binding, and codes do the work precedent does elsewhere. Reading a judgment without knowing which model applies leads to confident, wrong conclusions.
Knowing the level tells you what is still arguable. A great deal of frustration comes from pressing a point at a stage where no court is empowered to consider it any more.
Each level carries its own cost exposure, and in many systems the losing party contributes to the other side's expenses. That single rule shapes litigation behaviour more than almost anything in the substantive law, and it is rarely explained to people at the outset.