''Prison Break'': Getting off their game
On ''Prison Break,'' as the escapees close in on the treasure, they start to make stupid mistakes
”Prison Break”: Getting off their game
Just when I thought my favorite line of the night was Michael mimicking T-Bag’s Southern accent while asking him, ”What the hell did you do to your haaaaand?” T-Bag utters a sentence to Lincoln that is sure to give me queasy moments for days to come. ”Remember, when you’re strip-searching a lifer, you should always check the coin purse.” Eeeewwwww!
But it’s such good advice. And he had every reason to school Michael and Lincoln. I understand that Michael’s impeccable planning has helped to get them this far. But jeez, guys. You’re wanted criminals. Act like it! Even the charm-’em-first-if-you-can C-Note had no problem with that concept, as he jumped off a moving train when the cops moved in on him.
Michael, when you punch a man, make sure he’s out cold before you turn to walk away. Lincoln, you know a thing or two about giving a good boot to the face, but you know spit about getting information out of someone (or frisking them, for that matter). Also, when you’re on the run, try to stay out of buildings full of cops!
And really, why don’t people just shoot T-Bag as soon as they see him? He’s evil, and even with one working hand, he’s more dangerous than the rest of them together. (Didn’t you feel Tweener’s horror at seeing T-Bag on the street? Somebody soiled his pants.)
Speaking of dangerous men, is it wrong that I sort of love the evil genius that is the shady G-man Kellerman/ Lance? His adoption of a gay persona as he cozied up to Sara after the addicts’ 12-step meeting beats every display of Michael’s adaptability, hands down. Gay? I can do gay. No problem. We can watch Fried Green Tomatoes together. Wow. I thought he was going to add an ”mmm-hmmm, girlfriend” to his conversation any minute there.
And by the way, enough already with the beautiful but broken act for Tancredi. The loss of Robin Tunney’s spunky lawyer leaves a gaping hole for a strong female character on the show. It’s a good start that Tancredi still believes Lincoln is innocent, but she needs to fill the championing-underdog role with maybe just a little less obnoxiousness than Tunney’s character did but with just as much meat.
And I may be the only one who doesn’t think that Mr. Super FBI Guy Mahone (William Fichtner) is all that smart. First, he didn’t keep people watching Michael’s stripper wife, as even the bullheaded Bellick figured out was a good bet. And then, he didn’t think to get in tight with Tancredi on the off chance that she’d have contact with Michael.
Oh, yeah, what’s the deal with the long shots of Mahone looking into the water? Does it have anything to do with the pills that he’s taking ”to calm his nerves,” or is Fichtner just having Invasion flashbacks? If I heard him right, Mahone’s illegally obtained prescription drug of choice is medazepam. I don’t know nearly enough about this particular benzodiazepine derivative to come up with theories on it. Does anyone out there? Maybe then I’ll start to care more about Mahone’s motivation.
I also can’t figure out the significance of the long-disconnected phone number, but I think it has something to do with Michael and Lincoln’s father. Seventeen years ago — isn’t that about the time he dropped out of their lives? Maybe it’s some sort of way of contacting him, and it was supposed to be a clue for Tancredi. That’s assuming that the origami swan is what he meant when he said last week that she’s in possession of something that could protect her.
And Sucre, my sweet, sweet Sucre. Why would you listen to a word out of your slimy cousin’s mouth instead of decking him and running right away? But darn it if he didn’t look so sad as he left town. Maricruz!
Two parting questions for you. How is it that no one accounted for the fact that Westmoreland had been in jail for decades and didn’t exactly have his finger on the pulse of the goings-on in Toole, Utah? And people, where the hell is Haywire? Is he going to come riding down the middle of the street with the little-girl helmet on?