Trying to write about Law & Order is a daunting task. The original series has been on the air for 17 years; its 18th season starts this January (look forward to a Law & Order premiere liveblog!). With four other series falling under the Law & Order umbrella – two successes, two horrible, horrible failures – the entire franchise represents an incomparably massive crime drama mythology. There’s a lot to discuss, and simply choosing a starting point is an intimidating prospect. I want to quote Dick Wolf and tell you that Law & Order has done for New York what James Joyce did for Dublin. I want to quote Saturday Night Live and tell you all about the various components of The Sound. But I’m not going to do any of that yet. Instead, I’m going to start with Jack “Hang ‘Em High” McCoy (Sam Waterson), the reason I bothered watching an episode of the series beyond the first.

Jack McCoy isn’t an asshole, exactly. He is a man who believes in justice, and he doesn’t care whose toes he needs to step on, or whose skulls he needs to crush, to see justice done. He is a ruthless executive assistant district attorney. At one point, McCoy has all gay marriages in the state of New York annulled so that a murderer’s confession no longer falls under the protection of spousal privilege, much to the annoyance of his lesbian ADA. In another instance, he stages a fake trial to extract information from a dirty DEA agent, ultimately failing and getting the agent killed. Having been found in contempt more than any other lawyer in New York (and once in a California court!), for Jack McCoy the ends are more important than the means. He’s an unconventional prosecutor that plays by nobody’s rules but his own. Basically, Jack McCoy is the Jack Bauer of the legal world. He even has an estranged daughter.

Additionally, Jack McCoy has taught me more about the American legal system than any other source. Thanks to him, I know what a grand jury is and understand the power of an indictment. I know to always object to hearsay, that most cases end in a plea, and that a prosecutor can get a witness to give the most prejudicial testimony in the world as long as the defense opens the door for it. He’s taught me to shake my head when I yell at people.

He’s also taught me that Law & Order is awesome. You see, McCoy isn’t an anomaly. Law & Order’s entire cast is surprisingly well developed. I expected flat non-characters acting as siphons between viewers and the case of the week. Each character is defined by his or her actions, the actors playing their parts with an almost extreme minimalism, making each morsel of personal information all the sweeter. The main cast, subtle performance building on subtle performance, outshines the often cartoonish guest stars. Though the focus of each episode is unquestionably the case itself, the reoccurring characters – their personal motivations and beliefs – primarily drive the action. A case’s affect on the characters is frequently more interesting than the case itself.

Law & Order is the police procedural that knows it’s a police procedural. Its seemingly rigid format – 22 minutes of detectives working a case, an arrest, 22 minutes of the DA’s office prosecuting the suspect – isn’t quite so rigid. The series often plays with its own format, playing against viewer expectations and easily manipulating the audience. Additionally, episodes rarely end with sterile conclusions. Everything comes with a price, and often the price is too high for the justice system to pay. The district attorney’s office loses many of the cases it prosecutes. Often times, an episode ends with no conclusion at all. The only true constant in the series’ format comes from the “slice of life” segment in the first 30 seconds of each episode, often leading to a crime or the discovery of a crime scene.

The series is also far smarter than it has a right to be. As a mainstream police procedural/courtroom drama with nearly 400 episodes under its belt, Law & Order is a show that uses big words and doesn’t stop to explain them. And just like Jack McCoy, it doesn’t pull any punches, attacking issues “ripped from the headlines” head on and rarely taking the easy approach by choosing sides. It moves at breakneck speed, with no establishing shots or transitional scenes – only white-on-black title cards accompanied by The Sound – and dares the viewer to keep up. This isn’t flashy, substanceless fluff like CSI or banal garbage like CSI: Miami (the #1 show in the world!). The rotating cast of genuinely interesting characters keeps things fresh, and some exceptional writing doesn’t hurt either. Law & Order is an excellent TV series that is taken for granted by most television viewers, but is just as good now as it was 393 episodes ago. Better, even.

Oh, and that Dick Wolf quote? “Crime is a constantly renewable resource. That’s why we have newspapers.” That’s also why we have Law & Order.