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 of which would have been Michael Mann's Crime Story (1986) and David Lynch and Mark Frost's Twin Peaks (1990). 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 the fourth season episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987) (a serial offender in this respect), "Future Imperfect (1990)", in which one of the main characters adopts an 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, I should 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.
And so we have the otherwise excellent Escape at Dannemora, a four or five-hour story elongated to eight hours. Ostensibly a prison break genre piece, the series is more interested in the psychology of the people involved than 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, and which doesn't offer much in the way of rewards (although the last two episodes are undeniably exceptional).
Written by Brett Johnson and Michael Tolkin, and directed by Ben Stiller, the series tells the story of the 2015 Clinton Correctional Facility escape, when Richard Matt (Benicio Del Toro) and David Sweat (Paul Dano) escaped the maximum security prison with the aid of civilian prison employee Joyce "Tilly" Mitchell (Patricia Arquette). The series begins the day after the escape, with Tilly already in custody, before jumping back several months to show 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 C.O. Gene Palmer (David Morse), who turns a blind eye to some of his shadier dealings. In the tailor shop where Matt works, Tilly, the shop supervisor, is engaged in a sexual relationship with Sweat, and is utterly contemptuous of her husband Lyle (Eric Lange), who works maintenance at the prison. When Sweat is moved to another wing, a lovelorn Tilly begins an affair with Matt, and when an oversight on Palmer's part leads to Matt learning an unused catwalk runs behind their cells, he forms an escape plan with Sweat. After busting through numerous walls, all they need to escape are tools to cut into a 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.
Aesthetically, Dannemora is exceptional, with director of photography Jessica Lee Gagné's work extremely impressive in matching form and content. In Part 2 (2018), 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 Part 5 (2018); a nine-minute single shot following Sweat from his cell to the manhole which they will use to escape. The unedited format really sells the distance they have to travel, the size of the prison, and the extraordinary effort it took to get out. 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 (2015) 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 extraordinary. Yes, the physical transformation is laudable, as are the accent and inflections, but this is far more than an impersonation - Arquette utterly inhabits the character in a similar manner to Charlize Theron as Aileen Wuornos in Monster (2003). She plays Tilly as someone in a perpetual state of rage, resentment, and frustration, a woman who feels that she's 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 he says getting under her skin. In Part 6 (2018), however, which flashes back to formative moments from the characters' pasts, 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. 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). Arquette emphasises Tilly's naïveté in her dealings with Matt and Sweat, leaning into 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. However, she never lets us forget that Tilly is hateful, disillusioned, and dangerous.
Del Toro plays Matt as a classic sociopath; externally calm, but inherently volatile, 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. 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.
Most reviews of the show have focused on this central trio, but Lange's portrayal of Lyle is just as strong. Playing him as a man blinded by ignorance and unwavering loyalty, he believes 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.
The relationship between Matt and Sweat is especially fascinating. Inside, Matt is very much the dominant figure. 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, and 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.
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 or more hours to tell a story, doesn't necessarily mean that you should. As a 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.
And so we have the otherwise excellent Escape at Dannemora, a four or five-hour story elongated to eight hours. Ostensibly a prison break genre piece, the series is more interested in the psychology of the people involved than 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, and which doesn't offer much in the way of rewards (although the last two episodes are undeniably exceptional).
Written by Brett Johnson and Michael Tolkin, and directed by Ben Stiller, the series tells the story of the 2015 Clinton Correctional Facility escape, when Richard Matt (Benicio Del Toro) and David Sweat (Paul Dano) escaped the maximum security prison with the aid of civilian prison employee Joyce "Tilly" Mitchell (Patricia Arquette). The series begins the day after the escape, with Tilly already in custody, before jumping back several months to show 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 C.O. Gene Palmer (David Morse), who turns a blind eye to some of his shadier dealings. In the tailor shop where Matt works, Tilly, the shop supervisor, is engaged in a sexual relationship with Sweat, and is utterly contemptuous of her husband Lyle (Eric Lange), who works maintenance at the prison. When Sweat is moved to another wing, a lovelorn Tilly begins an affair with Matt, and when an oversight on Palmer's part leads to Matt learning an unused catwalk runs behind their cells, he forms an escape plan with Sweat. After busting through numerous walls, all they need to escape are tools to cut into a 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.
Aesthetically, Dannemora is exceptional, with director of photography Jessica Lee Gagné's work extremely impressive in matching form and content. In Part 2 (2018), 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 Part 5 (2018); a nine-minute single shot following Sweat from his cell to the manhole which they will use to escape. The unedited format really sells the distance they have to travel, the size of the prison, and the extraordinary effort it took to get out. 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 (2015) 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 extraordinary. Yes, the physical transformation is laudable, as are the accent and inflections, but this is far more than an impersonation - Arquette utterly inhabits the character in a similar manner to Charlize Theron as Aileen Wuornos in Monster (2003). She plays Tilly as someone in a perpetual state of rage, resentment, and frustration, a woman who feels that she's 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 he says getting under her skin. In Part 6 (2018), however, which flashes back to formative moments from the characters' pasts, 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. 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). Arquette emphasises Tilly's naïveté in her dealings with Matt and Sweat, leaning into 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. However, she never lets us forget that Tilly is hateful, disillusioned, and dangerous.
Del Toro plays Matt as a classic sociopath; externally calm, but inherently volatile, 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. 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.
Most reviews of the show have focused on this central trio, but Lange's portrayal of Lyle is just as strong. Playing him as a man blinded by ignorance and unwavering loyalty, he believes 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.
The relationship between Matt and Sweat is especially fascinating. Inside, Matt is very much the dominant figure. 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, and 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.
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 or more hours to tell a story, doesn't necessarily mean that you should. As a 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.