**_Overlong, but the acting is immense_** > _You can never have enough security with Richard Matt. You can never trust him. You can never turn your back on him. He is the most vicious, evil person I've ever come across in 38 years as a police officer._ - Cpt. Gabriel DiBernardo, North Tonawanda Police Department (Ret.), speaking the day after Richard Matt and David Sweat had escaped from Clinton Correctional Facility; "A Convicted Murderer's Escape Alarms Investigators From His Past" (Rick Rojas); _New York Times_ (June 7, 2015) > _I don't want nothing to do with him. He has tormented_ _me since he was 9 years old, and now he's 34 and I feel like he's still doing it._ - Pamela Sweat speaking about her son, David; "Convict's mother: 'I couldn't believe he did it'" (Megan Brockett); _USA Today_ (June 23, 2015) > _Ben Stiller is a son-of-a-bitch liar just like the rest of the world. He doesn't care about the truth. All he cares about is making millions off me. He's an idiot._ - Joyce "Tilly" Mitchell voicing her opinion about the _Escape at Dannemora_ director; "Joyce Mitchell rips Ben Stiller over _Escape at Dannemora_" (Sara Dorn); New York Post (December 22, 2018) As far back as the late 80s/early 90s, long before long-form narrative would become the dominant mode of television storytelling, I was a fan of what would then have been called "non-episodic storytelling". The best-known examples at that time were Michael Mann's ground-breaking _Crime Story_ (1986-1987), and David Lynch and Mark Frost's _Twin Peaks_ (1990-1991). _Crime Story_'s uniqueness came from a concept that would later be used by Steven Bochco on both _Murder One_ (1995-1996) and _Murder in the First_ (2014-2016), as well as forming the basis for David Simon and Ed Burns's masterful _The Wire_ (2002-2008); over the course of a single season (at the time, 21-24 episodes), one criminal investigation would play out from beginning to end, told from the perspective of both the police and the criminals. In the case of _Twin Peaks_, the plan was to draw people in with a tantalising murder mystery, before slowly letting that hook fade into the background. Of course, neither show played out as intended, and ironically enough, both floundered in their second seasons because they were forced by the networks to sustain themselves beyond their original conception, with each becoming more episodic than they were ever designed for, especially _Crime Story_. And for as long as I've admired long-form narrative, I've disliked episodic storytelling, especially shows where the events of a given week seem to have little-to-no bearing beyond that one week. The most egregious example I can think of is a fourth season episode of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ (a serial offender in this respect) called "Future Imperfect", in which one of the main characters adopts a space alien, who was never to be seen or heard from again. So, with that in mind, in an era where long-form narrative has become the norm, whether in regular shows, "limited series", or docuseries, you'd think I'd be in my element. And I am. Except for one thing - "Netflix bloat"; essentially, the phenomenon of TV shows having their stories stretched too thin across too many episodes, usually resulting in either early episodes that don't seem especially important or midseason pacing issues (it's referred to as "Netflix bloat" because its more common on Netflix shows, where whole seasons tend to drop at once, meaning there's no need to worry about retaining viewers from week to week). And so we have the otherwise excellent _Escape at Dannemora_, a four or five-hour story stretched out unnecessarily over eight hours. Ostensibly a prison break genre piece, the series is more interested in the psychology of the people involved and the poor choices they made (and why they made them) than in going in either of the two usual routes for such stories; triumphant escape or social commentary. Excellently directed and beautifully shot, with a quartet of astounding performances at its centre, the show tells a fascinating story, but it moves at a glacial pace that requires serious patience, without ever really offering much in the way of rewards (although the last two episodes are undeniably exceptional). The series tells the story of the 2015 Clinton Correctional Facility escape, when inmates Richard Matt (Benicio del Toro) and David Sweat (Paul Dano) escaped the maximum-security prison (the first, and, to date, only successful escape in the prison's 174 year history) with the aid of civilian prison employee Joyce "Tilly" Mitchell (Patricia Arquette). Nicknamed "Little Siberia", Clinton Correctional is located in the village of Dannemora in Clinton County, upstate New York, about 20 miles from the Canadian border; an institute notorious for its frigid temperature, institutional racism, endemic violence, antiquated facilities, and exceptionally high suicide rate. The series begins on June 7, 2015, the day after the escape, with Tilly being questioned by Inspector General Catherine Leahy Scott (Bonnie Hunt), whilst Governor Andrew Cuomo (Michael Imperioli) tries to reassure a nervous public. The show then jumps back several months, showing how the escape came to be. A respected kingpin on the block, Matt is a man who can get anything you need, for a price. A talented artist, he is especially friendly with one of the guards, Gene Palmer (David Morse), who turns a blind eye to some of Matt's shadier dealings in return for artwork which he gives to his wife. In the tailor shop where Matt works, Tilly, the shop supervisor, is engaged in a physical relationship with Sweat, and is utterly contemptuous of her unassailably faithful husband Lyle (Eric Lange), who works maintenance at the prison, and is well aware of rumours regarding Sweat and his wife. When Sweat is moved to another wing, however, a lovelorn Tilly begins an affair with Matt. When an oversight on Palmer's part leads to Matt learning an unused catwalk runs behind their cells, he forms an idea for an escape, but, lacking the technical know-how to make it happen, he turns to Sweat. Using the vents in their cells to access the catwalk at night, they explore the deserted bowels of the prison, breaking through several walls until hitting the outer wall. Made with reinforced concrete, Sweat tells Matt it would take years to break through. However, Sweat then realises that the huge heating pipe running through the wall to the outside is turned off in summer, meaning they can use it to bypass the wall. All they need are the tools to cut into the pipe. And so, promising Tilly that the three will escape to Mexico and live together, Matt persuades her to begin smuggling in what they need. Based on the Inspector General report on the escape and official documents related to the subsequent manhunt, Dannemora was created and written by Brett Johnson (_Mad Men_; _Ray Donovan_) and Michael Tolkin (_Deep Cover_; _The Player_; _Nine_), with one episode written by Jerry Stahl (_Bad Boys II_; _Hemingway & Gellhorn_), and one written by all three. Directed by Ben Stiller, the show was filmed primarily on location in Dannemora itself, with numerous scenes shot within Clinton Correctional. The first draft of the script was written only two months after the cessation of the manhunt, and because the IG's report hadn't yet been written, most of the script was fictional. At that time, Stiller turned down the opportunity to direct, feeling the story would work better with a more factual foundation. When the report was published, the script was entirely rewritten, with Stiller coming on-board as director and executive producer. Johnson, Tolkin, and Stiller spent about a year visiting Dannemora prior to shooting, getting to know the people and their town (something which paid off in the show's rich and vibrant depiction of the community). Aesthetically, _Dannemora_ is exceptional, with director of photography Jessica Lee Gagné's work especially impressive in matching form and content. In the second episode, for example, Gagné regularly shoots through bars and grids, up to the point where Matt begins to think of escape, then the shot composition becomes more open. Another good example is the opening shot of the superb fifth episode; a nine-minute single shot following Sweat from his cell to the manhole which they will use to escape. The unedited format here really sells the distance they have to travel, the size of the prison, and the extraordinary effort it took to get out. This episode, which has the sense of a meticulously constructed single scene, returns us to June 2004. The sixth episode, however, doesn't concern itself with Matt and Sweat on the outside. Instead, it goes back in time to depict formative moments in the characters' histories; Sweat's murder of a cop in July 2002, Matt's abduction, murder, and dismemberment of his employer in December 1997, and the breakdown of Tilly's first marriage in August 1993. Whilst the rest of the series is shot on 35mm, this episode is shot on 16mm, helping to sell that this is further in the past. Also worth noting is that, very unusually, the series is shot in CinemaScope (2.40:1). This wide and narrow format is almost never used on TV, where everything tends to be shot 1.78:1 (_Master of None_ is a notable exception). When filmmakers use 2.40:1 incorrectly (as they often do), it can come across as an affectation, an unjustified stylistic choice not derived from the content. Here, however, Stiller and Gagné use it magnificently, with the narrow frame serving to confine the characters. Combined with shooting through windows and having the characters stand in doorways, the precise compositions visually signify that these people (Tilly, Lyle, and Palmer included) are trapped no matter what they do; their lives are their prison. From an acting perspective, Arquette's Tilly is beyond extraordinary, and she deserves every award she's gotten for the role. Yes, the physical transformation is laudable, as are the accent and inflections, and the costumes by David C. Robinson (_Zoolander_; _Shame_; _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_), the hairstyling by Suzy Mazzarese-Allison (_Man on a Ledge_; _The Secret Life of Walter Mitty_; _St. Vincent_), and the make-up by Bernadette Mazur (_There's Something About Mary_; _Lady in the Water_; _Men in Black 3_) all help immeasurably. But this is far more than an impersonation – Arquette utterly inhabits the character in a similar manner to Charlize Theron as Aileen Wuornos in Patty Jenkins's _Monster_ (2003). She plays Tilly as someone in a perpetual state of rage, resentment, and frustration, a woman who feels that she's unequivocally entitled to more than she has, and is consumed by her own unhappiness. When we first meet her, her frustration levels with Lyle are at breaking point, with everything the man says getting under her skin, and as he's not savvy enough to realise that something is seriously wrong, he persists in his misguided attempts to placate her (his plan for a big day out is a visit to a local 1812 museum and then desert at Dairy Queen). In the flashback episode, however, we learn that Lyle himself was once the same kind of escape hatch for Tilly that Matt and Sweat are in 2015. This episode also demonstrates her cruelty; something which has been on the fringes of the character thus far, particularly in her invectives against Lyle. Here we see how deeply ingrained her malice is, using her young son Jerome as a pawn in a campaign of hatred against her first husband, Kenny Barrile (Charlie Hofheimer). Tilly is very much a manipulator, but Matt is far more intelligent than she is, and is able to convince her that if she helps him and Sweat escape, the trio will live in Mexico in a _ménage à trois_. Arquette taps into this pitiful aspect of her character, emphasising her _naïveté_ and the almost childlike quality she possesses; seen in the tendency for her voice to become shrill and nasally, and to start crying whenever challenged about anything, effectively throwing a tantrum. Seeing herself as the heroine of a grand narrative, she's unable to see that no such narrative can exist. However, Arquette never lets the audience forget that Tilly is a hateful, disillusioned, dangerous, and psychologically complex woman, with the layers and nuances of the performance really extraordinary to see. Del Toro plays Matt as a classic sociopath; externally calm, but inherently volatile, someone who sees no difference in meticulously painting a picture of Hilary Clinton and setting a fellow inmate's cell on fire because he doesn't like him, and in the flashback episode, we see the extent of his sociopathy. Bizarrely, he's also a big believer in the power of positive thinking, telling Sweat that if they want to escape badly enough, then it will happen. Del Toro, however, has empathy for Matt, emphasising the tragedy of the man. As he explains it, > _he grew up without knowing his parents, from one foster home to the next, and emotionally, he was broken. And when you add to that, money, drugs, you have a time bomb. I think Richard Matt is a sad story. He killed several people, he's a manipulator, a bully. But, then again, that was probably the only way he knows to get what he wants._ In terms of Sweat, Dano focuses on his brilliant mind, playing him as calm and thoughtful, slow and methodical in his movements, but prone to violent anger when things don't go his way, whether that be losing his temper on the phone with his mother because he thinks she's not doing all she can to get him transferred or attacking another inmate because the man is making noise. According to Dano, > _Ben, Benicio, and I went to visit David Sweat, who's been in solitary since the escape. It's hard to look at somebody behind bars, and see they have a sense of humour, or he's nice. But he killed somebody. I don't think he's somebody who ever really had a chance, which is too bad, as I think he had the mind of an engineer. As you'll see in the show, these are not things that an average person could do._ Most reviews of the show have focused on this central trio, but the story is built on a quartet, with Lange's portrayal of Lyle just as strong as the others. Playing him as a man blinded by ignorance and unwavering loyalty, he believes in his heart that he's doing the right thing, that Tilly still loves him, and that he can weather the current storm. Lange leans into Lyle's inability (or refusal) to see just how much he's being manipulated, abused, and ridiculed, with his adoration for Tilly never wavering, no matter what she subjects him to. The show unquestionably depicts him as a simpleton, but Lange finds more layers in the part, and, like Arquette, the physicality of the performance is hugely impressive. Thematically, the show covers a lot of the ground you'd expect _vis-à-vis_ prison dramas. For example, Matt points out to a fellow inmate that Clinton is "_prison_", whereas county lockup is "_jail_"; a huge distinction. Another terrific moment comes the first night Matt and Sweat explore the catwalk, and Matt points out, "_this is the first time in twelve years nobody knows where you are_". The depiction of the relationship between Matt and Sweat is also fascinating. Inside, Matt is very much the dominant figure, with Sweat doing pretty much all of the work in engineering the escape, always under Matt's purview. As soon as they get outside, however, and especially when they head into the Adirondack Mountains, Matt is completely out of his depth, with Sweat very much becoming the leader. The depiction of Dannemora itself is also thematically well-handled - the town is in decay, paint flaking off walls, streets deserted, shops empty. Both physically and figuratively dominated by Clinton, the prison employs the vast majority of the population, but although they get to go home at night, for many, they are almost as trapped as the inmates, certainly in an ideological sense. Economically, culturally, socio-politically, this is a dying town, and although Clinton is keeping it alive for now, Clinton is also responsible for its decay. The problem with all of this, however, is the show's runtime, which is at least two, maybe three hours too long. Yes, the deep dive into the characters' psychologies and backstory is fascinating, but even that is stretched too thin. The flashback episode is superbly made and very interesting, but we didn't need five hours of context preceding it, and at times, the plot seems to lose all sense of forward momentum. It's never what you would call boring, it's just that so much of it lacks anything in the way of urgency or tension. And no matter how good the acting may be, the glacial pace often tends to undercut it. Ultimately, _Escape at Dannemora_ is a brilliant piece of direction, with awe-inspiring performances. Although it gives us a lot of detail about the mechanics of the escape, it's far more interested in the mechanics of people. And in that sense, it's always interesting. It's also the latest piece of evidence that just because you can use eight hours to tell a story, doesn't necessarily mean that you should. As a four or five hour piece, this could have been sensational. As an eight hour piece, it's above average, saved by its cast and Stiller's fine direction, but it remains always a slog.