In the Fox drama Prison Break, Michael Scofield (Wentworth Miller) gets himself incarcerated so he can break out his brother, who he believes was wrongfully imprisoned for killing the Vice President's brother. That is not the far-fetched part of the story. The far-fetched part is that no one realizes he's doing it.
Consider: in the first few minutes of the two-hour pilot, Scofield, a structural engineer, holds up a bank, although he has no criminal record or need for money; waits for the police to show up; pleads no contest to armed robbery; asks to be sent to the same maximum-security hellhole as his sib; and, the better to look the part, gets a massive tattoo all over his torso. That tattoo might as well read, HELLO, I AM GOING TO BREAK MY WRONGFULLY IMPRISONED BROTHER OUT OF JAIL.
What Prison Break (Mondays, 9 p.m. E.T.; premieres Aug. 29 at 8 p.m. E.T.) lacks in plausibility--basically, everything--it makes up for in plotting, pacing and panache. Once in the clink, Scofield sets in motion a complex Swiss watch of an escape plan. He tracks down brother Lincoln (Dominic Purcell), who is being held in isolation. He feigns diabetes to get access, for unknown reasons, to the medical facilities. He enlists the help of a Mafia boss (Peter Stormare, playing against Nordic type) by finding--don't ask how--the witness protection-sheltered stoolie who fingered him. He cozies up to a prisoner who may or may not be famed hijacker D.B. Cooper (Muse Watson). And he helps build an anniversary gift for the wife of the warden (Stacy Keach), to whom it never occurs that a guy who can craft the Taj Mahal out of toothpicks just might be able to pick the lock of his cage.
But like 24, Alias and Lost before it, Break makes a virtue of its preposterousness. The twists pile on fast enough--I've never seen a pilot in such a rush to tie itself in knots--that you surrender. The dialogue is tight (if sometimes clichéd), with some much needed splashes of humor. During the holdup, a bank worker tells Scofield that the manager is at White Castle. "White Castle," Scofield says, skeptical. "Fast-food place," the teller deadpans. "They serve those little square burgers." Miller (The Human Stain) carries the lead role with grim charisma, like a jailbird Jack Bauer. If anybody had told me that engineers were stone-cold badasses with the fighting and scheming skills of a black ops agent, I would have seriously reconsidered my college major.
A series about a prison break would seem to carry the seeds of its own premature conclusion (Scofield must bust his bro out before his execution in three months). But there is a wider, more shadowy scheme at work: people in the government badly want Lincoln dead and silenced. That could sustain a long run, as well as intraprison intrigue, including a simmering racial rumble. And who knows? Maybe, 24-style, Scofield could break out of a bigger and better prison every season (Rikers Island! Guantánamo!). Sure, that would take some strenuous plotting gymnastics. But in its confident debut, Break shows that implausibility can be, well, captivating. --By James Poniewozik