Prison Break is a fascinating case where the context around a story is more interesting than the story itself, and in this case the story itself is pretty good (though not capital-G Great). I recall when it first started airing – it was part of a wave of American television attempting to break new ground and tell ambitious, serialised stories, especially in the wake of the runaway popularity of LOST. I specifically recall that people were skeptical that the premise had much life in it; many lamented that Americans wouldn’t go for the miniseries format that the story of a man tattooing himself with a prison’s blueprints in order to break out seemed to demand, because nobody could see how you could stretch that out into the usual five-to-ten seasons that television executives want. Now, I’m an amateur critic and amateur storyteller, not an amateur marketer, but this strikes me as assuming audiences are more loyal to premises than they are to characters, which is not at all my experience.

I’m gonna get back to this.

Prison Break is one of those wonderful cases where you could describe the protagonist and the story with very similar terms. Both Michael and PB seem more ambitious than they really are, but their goals are actually very simple and easy to quantify; it’s the level of focus and detail they bring that makes them impressive. The moment where the show really caught me was in episode two, “Allen” which ends with John holding a pair of cutting shears on Michael’s toes. I assumed, naturally, that the series would dodge mutilating its protagonist like this but no – he really does get his fucking toes cut off. The show lives up to this – all the way to final minutes of the season, it refuses to cheat its way out of conflict, doing things that seem in the moment to be inconvenient or counterintuitive and then reveals gripping drama by actually dealing with them. The first great episodes are the pair in which Michael initiates a riot to cover his exploration of the prison, an action that gets him found out by the resident psychopath that wants in on the plan.

It even reaches feelings and ideas that are downright moving, even inspirational. The funny thing is that Michael’s tattoos pretty much stop being relevant by the last third of the season; it’s not that they were never useful, but they could only get him so far. Two facts become clear: one, Michael’s specific plan was less important than that vast amount of information he picked up that allowed him to adapt and improvise in the moment. Two, Michael’s success depended on a community he built up. One of the climactic scenes of the whole she-bang is when Michael has to go straight to the doctor he’s been flirting with all season and put the plan in her hands; she is essential to Michael’s success and he has zero leverage over her beyond her personal morality and goodwill towards him.

(The show’s first big error is almost randomly killing that character off afterwards in the finale rather than deal with her life being ruined in the second season. If nothing else, it’s unfair to the character)

But this is also underlined by the supporting cast; by the finale, Michael has built up both debts and loyalties; he brings in an unstable young guy over the objections of his allies and then abandons him in the woods based on a self-calculated moral debt. The most brutal moment of ownage in the season – one that eclipses a guy getting his fucking hand chopped the fuck off with a fucking axe – is when Michael takes advantage of his friendship with the warden to get his brother into the infirmary for the escape. They were nice and friendly and mutually respected each other, and we’re gonna throw that out and fuck you if you don’t think it’s nice because we need it to get Lincoln out of prison (Michael’s apology afterwards comes off downright cowardly). For good or bad, Michael’s community is a resource to him.

(It’s amazing how Wentworth Miller’s performance lives up to this intensity. It has its own arc within the whole show; he’s initially closed off and entirely focused on Michael’s goals, but you see him opening up and warming to the other actors – they make him smile and laugh – until by the end he’s entirely comfortable and part of an ensemble. You also see the other actors intrigued and even awed by Miller – particularly Dominic Purcell, who relishes in their chemistry and carries it into other scenes.)

Michael both threatening and begging his friends in authority also speaks to the way the uber-cool scheming basically collapses by the end of the season. Prison Break only occasionally reaches the heights of The Shield in terms of emotion or character, but it manages to live up to its ever-ratcheting tension and even has some cleverer spanner-in-the-works problems to solve. The side effect of this is that Michael’s problems grow in response to his ambitions; the smarter he is, the worse his problems become, until even he is nearly crying in despair at one point; one of the most shocking moments is in the middle of the escape in the final episode, where he’s handcuffed to T-Bag, trying to convince Lincoln to drive away, and actually loses his temper. On top of this, as the problems grow, the people around him become sloppier – not because they’re stupid or lazy, but because time is running out and an imperfect solution now is better than doing nothing and getting caught.

This is all fascinating stuff to consider in light of where television is twenty years later. At the time, Prison Break looked experimental and sloppy, trying to serve two masters – the need to deliver more ambitious storytelling versus the needs of normal episodic television. The result is something that feels simultaneously like a prediction of modern television and a stunning, heroic example of what it’s supposed to be doing. Of all things, I end up thinking of Secret Invasion, in that both shows are thrillers with a strong conspiracy elements, both shows incorporate flashbacks, both shows lean in on cliffhangers and both shows strongly lean on compressed, pulpy, and forceful dialogue (I found myself thinking that every line of this show has the effect of my opening lines for essays). There are two differences: one, Prison Break relies on basic dramatic structure and Secret Invasion doesn’t. Two, Prison Break is fun to watch and Secret Invasion isn’t.

Obviously it’s a little mean to pick on Secret Invasion in particular; it’s a useful example of the kind of populist genre TV that gets made nowadays. One recurring complaint I’ve seen these days – heavily within the Solute but definitely everywhere – is ‘why is nobody making episodic TV anymore?’. Another is ‘this miniseries could have been a great movie, but they had to stretch it out to eight hours’. Going back to my opening paragraph, Prison Break has evolved from a wobbly experimental work to a solid demonstration for how serialised television is supposed to work; character driving agendas, scenes that serve one clear purpose, and episodes that start in one place and go to another. Even if the world doesn’t notice Prison Break, I think we’re collectively coming back to fundamental television. I have two predictions for 2024: one, the Fantastic Four movie is going to revitalise interest in the MCU – if Kevin Feige has any one talent, it’s the ability to read the room, and he’ll have the sense to adjust to the heavy criticism the franchise has been getting. Two, we’re gonna go back to episodes. We know they work.