El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie

Director: Vince Gilligan
Starring: Aaron Paul, Charles Baker, Matt Jones, Jesse Plemons, Scott Shepherd, Scott MacArthur, Tom Bower, Kevin Rankin, Larry Hankin, Tess Harper, Marla Gibbs, Jonathan Banks
Running Time: 122 min.
Rating: NR

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

**Warning: The Following Review Contains Major Spoilers For 'El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie' **

When Breaking Bad's last episode, "Felina," aired in 2013, it was one of the few examples of a legendary show sticking its landing, delivering a series finale that many considered a perfect send-off. Running five seasons and not a single episode longer than warranted, creator Vince Gilligan knew the story he wanted to tell, and while pieces on the board may have been moved along the way, you got the impression the eventual destination was always clear. It's also the rare finale that's grown in stature since it aired, with initial rumblings of Walter White's (Bryan Cranston) Mr. Chips to Scarface journey wrapping up a little too tidily beginning to dissipate over time. So the big issue becomes whether any part of this is worth toying with.

With a current prequel series in AMC's Better Call Saul creatively performing better than it has any right to, you'd figure Gilligan would want to get out while he can, further preserving the integrity of both shows. But there's always been that nagging Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul) issue. When Jesse escaped that Nazi compound in the final minutes of the series, screaming in agony and joy as he drove that El Camino right through the gate, we were left to speculate what would become of him, while also wondering if we're better off not knowing. And whether our imaginations could provide a more satisfying conclusion for him than anything Gilligan could cook up, leaving it a thread better left unresolved. So the big question becomes whether any of this is even worth toying with.

With Netflix's feature film, El Camino, Gilligan takes a calculated risk in attempting to continue Jesse's story by adding an epilogue to "Felina," while also creating an entity that holds its own in the Breaking Bad universe he revisits. Is it necessary? Not terribly, as what happens in the 122 minute film to the embattled, traumatized Jesse following his escape is probably very similar to what fans envisioned in their minds. Does it in any way harm the series? Absolutely not, as the quality of writing and directing here is very much on the same level of the show at its peak with key differences being the narrative stakes and the absence of its previous protagonist/antagonist. This is Jesse's story now and probably the most impressive thing about El Camino is how far it leans into that, delivering a claustrophobic character study effectively doubling as a taught, suspenseful crime thriller. And for a series consistently praised for how cinematic it looked, the feature provides additional evidence as to why.

This doesn't feel like an extended episode of the series, or a forced reunion. There's a very functional structure to the screenplay, sharing commonalities with the show's best episodes that seamlessly alternate between character-centric flashbacks and present-day action scenes. And it does this while somehow feeling entirely different from all the episodes that preceded it. As a standalone movie, it's tremendous, even as its success as a continuation of the show will proabably be debated. But it's ultimately all about Aaron Paul's complex, nuanced performance as one of TV's greatest characters. Experiencing Jesse's desperation, it's easy to forget whether or not we "need" to return to this. It just simply feels great to be back.

Walter White is dead. Gaining revenge on the Nazis while sacraficing himself to save Jesse, the latter fled the compound in captor Todd Alquist's (Jesse Plemons) El Camino. Physically and emotionally scarred from his imprisonment, a bearded, dissheveled Jesse must now decide what's next, remaining a"person of interest" in the Heisenberg case.  Considered a dangerous fugitive with reports of the compound massacre all over the news, he manages to evade authorities long enough to make it to the two people he knows he can trust: good friends Badger (Matt Jones) and Skinny Pete (Charles Baker). Far from criminal masterminds, the two burnouts come through in giving their pal a place to clean up and hide untill they come up with a plan. But with authorities rapidly closing in, Jesse quickly sets out on his journey with a very specific goal in mind. To get there, he'll have to make sacrifices, rely on his resourcfulness and come to face-to face with his past in order to even get a shot at starting over or having any kind of future ahead of him.

The narrative signposts in El Camino are always to clear to Jesse before becoming apparent to us, with Gilligan keeping the character a step ahead the entire time and completely driving the action. This keeps us on pins and needles anticipating his every move, often taking him on detours and destinations we rarely expect he'll go. In hindsight, each step makes sense, but in the moment we become Jesse's captive audience, wondering who or what he'll run into next, or how it'll tie to the ordeal he's been through.

It's to Gilligan and Paul's credit the psychological implications of Jesse's recent imprisonment isn't brushed over, nor is the very real possibility he'll be put into a situation where he'll need to kill again, if his survival depends on it. Considering everything he's been through, it makes logical sense that he's a functioning PTSD sufferer haunted by not only his own morally questionable past actions, but all the manipulation he endured at the hands of Walt. While the deaths of Jane (Krysten Ritter), Andrea (Emily Rios) and Mike (Jonathan Banks) haunt Jesse, they're never explicitly mentioned. We get it. And Gilligan gets that we do, letting Jesse's actions and a few carefully chosen flashbacks do all the work.

Since the finale was in many ways already an epilogue unto itself (with many still considering "Ozymandius" the true climax) rather than a continuation, it's a touchy subject which characters should reappear. If this was merely "fan service," it's safe bet we'd see Hank (Dean Norris), Skylar (Anna Gunn), Walt Jr. (RJ Mitte), Marie (Betsy Brandt), Gus (Giancarlo Esposito), either in flashbacks or the present, depending upon their fates. Of course, it doesn't help that Jesse's business with those aforementioned characters is either extremely limited, non-existent, or finished. With only two encounters with Skylar during the series and not so much as a a scene with Walt Jr., there's little reason for them to intereact now.

Similarly, it would take too much work to be able to logically tie the post-BrBa events of Better Call Saul to Jesse's journey, so an encounter with Saul's (Bob Odenkirk) Cinnabon Gene alter ego was always going to be a long shot. If there are any complaints about Gilligan's creative decisions, it'll likely be regarding who does show up and why, since there's a big question mark surrounding what any potential returnee could add at this point.

Jesse Plemons' Todd wasn't likely topping anyone's prediction list to return considering his death in the finale, but here he is, in an extended flashback sequence that initially comes off as a curious use of time. After all, was anyone really begging for a deeper glimpse into Todd's disturbed psyche, especially considering our knowledge of how things turned out for him. But a funny thing happens as Gilligan keeps returning to this oddly specific flashback and Plemons' role grows larger, evolving into what amounts to a co-lead for what seems like half the picture. When the basis for Todd's inclusion presents itself and we discover how he directly and indirectly impacts Jesse's present quest, it all starts coming together. This makes it easy to further appreciate Plemons' performance opposite Paul, and just how twisted their dynamic became while Jesse was imprisoned, revealing Todd as even more childlike and sociopathic than originally suspected. But Gilligan's blueprint is clear: This will be about what Jesse needs to collect in order to move forward.

From then on, it's a pretty wild ride, with Jesse trying to evade capture and gather enough cash to reach what we should have known all along was his ultimate goal: A rescheduled appointment with Ed "The Disappearer" Galbraith (Robert Forster). Having missed his initial pick-up with the vacuum repairman, he's now looking for another chance at a new identity, just as Walt and Saul received before him. Hopefully, with better results. But it won't be easy since Ed has his principles and doesn't like being stood up, priding himself on doing business the right way.

Jesse's verbal interplay with Ed makes for the film's strongest section, as Forster reprises and significantly expands on the crucial role he so intriguingly played in the series' penultimate episode, "Granite State." All that occurs when Jesse enters this vacuum store is gold, with the extended sequence crackling with nervous tension, sarcasm and humor. Much will made made of this being Forster's final role (with the Oscar-nominated actor passing the day of its release), but regardless of that tragic irony, it's a carefully measured performance worthy of the highest praise, cool and calm as can be in the presence of Paul's manic energy. If the latter owns this movie, then Forster's the next best thing in it.

While it was never a question that Bryan Cranston would show up as Walter White, the "when" and "how" remained a well-guarded secret. It does kind of come out of nowhere, while managing to make perfect sense when considering every flashback and present-day encounter in the film centers around Jesse coming to terms with his past in order to build a future for himself. It's fitting we join the two when their partnership was at its early stage, before Walt's hubris poisoned it. He was still ex-chemistry teacher "Mr. White," and his cancer diagnosis made him as desperate for money as former cooking partner Jesse is now, looking to build a nest egg for his family when he's gone. That's how things started, and while we know how they turned out, it's intriguing that Gilligan picked this previously unseen diner conversation for Walt's cameo, with their trusted, duct taped RV parked in the lot.

Of course, Cranston slides right back into the role like he never left, playing a weak, uncontrollably coughing version of Walt who has yet to become the alpha in their partnership. Instead, he relies on Jesse, while expressing a genuine concern and disappointment at why his former student wasn't thinking about his own future, as a friend or father would, if not for that hint of condescension.  At first, the scene seems almost superfluous within the context of this movie, but try not to marvel again at the surreal sight of them sitting across from each other again. Or deny that much of Jesse's survival now depends on the many lessons imparted and inflicted on him by Walt, the very person that caused his life to unravel. Wrong and arrogant about a lot, Walt's belief that Jesse was wasting his potential was always spot-on, even as the mentor failed to take his own advice, looking for success in all the wrong places. It just took all of this to go down for Jesse to finally realize it.

It's appropriate that the two characters Jesse gleaned the most from and forged his most meaningful human connections bookend his story. Mike and Jane may both be victims of Walt and while it's too late for them, he still has a shot if he can evade authorities and make it out of this alive. Fans complaining Walt had too tidy a resolution will likely have a field day criticizing Jesse's send-off, but it's unquestionably the right ending, and really the only one, even if you feel no further closure was necessary. But for a character whose screen time did become increasingly limited as the series drew to a close, it's no small feat that we know more about Jesse Pinkman now than we did going in.

To say no one needed El Camino more than Aaron Paul isn't a knock on his immeasurable talent, but instead an indictment on an industry that failed to give him the showcase he's deserved since the series concluded. Back in the role he belongs, we're reminded that in the six years since it would be highly unusual for him, or any other working actor, to get material at that level. And while it may be true that the series or its fans didn't need it, we'd be fools to complain about getting more, especially since it's about as accurate a representation of Breaking Bad's best that we'll ever get in feature form.           

Halt and Catch Fire: The Final Season

Creators: Christopher Cantwell and Christopher C. Rogers
Starring: Lee Pace, Scoot McNairy, Mackenzie Davis, Kerry Bishé, Toby Huss, Annabeth Gish, Anna Chlumsky, Molly Ephraim, Kathryn Newton, Susanna Skaggs
Original Airdate: 2017

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

            ** Spoiler Warning: The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers for Season 4 of 'Halt and Catch Fire' **

Everyone thinks about the possibility, but few shows actually have the guts to go through with it. In the third to last episode of one of TV's most improved dramas, Halt and Catch Fire, creators and showrunners Christopher Cantwell and Christopher Rogers do the unthinkable. It's what every fan of a major series fears could happen in the home stretch, but rarely does, since the story being told so infrequently calls for it. This one did. You could call it a shock, but that wouldn't exactly be accurate since viewers have known for a couple of seasons now that the show's backbone, everyman Gordon Clark (Scoot McNairy) was quietly fighting a degenerative brain disease.

So, did we just simply forget about it? Or know, but find ourselves so distracted by all the other compelling goings on that we neglected to consider Gordon was on borrowed time. It's a true credit to the writing and performances that we took for granted that the character would make it to the end because he had too much left to accomplish. This may as well be the story of the series, which started in the Silicon Prairie of Dallas at the forefront of an 80's computer revolution spearheaded by four wildly different, but initially underdeveloped characters who were always a little too far ahead of the curve. 

Joe and Gordon argue in Comet's offices

It began as being all about the technological connections, but with each passing episode the series morphed into something else, until arriving at its final destination of California's Silicon Valley in 1994, at the forefront of another revolution, the internet. Whether it be personal computing, chat rooms, anti-virus software, first-person gaming, and finally, the world wide web, hot shot visionary Joe MacMillan (Lee Pace), geeky engineer Gordon (McNairy), shrewd, buttoned-up corporate brains Donna Clark-Emerson (Kerry Bishé), and rebellious coder Cameron Howe (Mackenzie Davis) were often there first. It's just that someone else was always better.

Right up until the end this was a show about failure, with perhaps no character better epitomizing that than perpetual runner-up Gordon, played with equal parts desperation and inspiration by McNairy. With these three, the next big idea would always be right around the corner. Eventually, the series evolved into being about human connections, as the characters grew and expanded with the world around them, particularly in the past two seasons.

Gordon brainstorms ideas

When audiences do eventually realize what they've missed, and as others discover and re-discover this overlooked series, they'll have its finale, "Ten of Swords" waiting for them. And while this will never usurp Breaking Bad or Mad Men critically or otherwise, it became its own thing, delivering an universally beloved final episode neither could lay claim to having.

Yes, the bar was set higher for those because of the greatness preceding it and most were just relieved that the perpetually ratings-challenged HACF even made it to the end amidst constant threats of cancellation.  But it gets the last word, culminating in an hour and fifteen minutes that's everything a TV send-off can and should be.

After the surprise time jump at the end of last season that took the characters from the 80's into the 90's, Joe and Gordon have joined forces again to launch a new internet service provider, CalNect, spawned by their World Wide Web brainstorming session with Donna and Cameron three years earlier. But despite occupying Mutiny's old office space and employing Cameron, she's too distracted  to finish their browser, and competition from the marketplace is forcing them to change course.

When Joe comes up with the idea to index every website on the Internet, Gordon enlists his youngest daughter Haley (Susanna Skaggs) to help. She creates her own webite, "Haley's Comet" that could prove to be the solution to all their problems, if they Gordon can work out the issue of his 13-year-old working for him and Joe while competing with her own mom, and his ex-wife, Donna, who's venture capital firm is funding a very similar startup company called Rover.

Bos and Cameron have a talk

With Cameron's marriage having fallen apart in Japan and her new video game, the frustratingly impossible "Pilgrim," receiving awful reviews,  she's torn between these two competing companies, as her personal ties to Joe and Comet conflict with her loyalty to old friend Bos (Toby Huss), who's wife Diane (Annabeth Gish) oversees Donna's Rover project. With Cameron offered a new business opportunity from a mysterious source that could give her the independence she wishes, Joe, Gordon and Donna are separately still searching for what they want and figuring out how they'll get it, unaware their paths are converging for the final time.

This season, more than any before it, feels like a completely different show, while still managing to draw upon the rich history mapped out in previous episodes. Part of that undoubtedly has to do with the time jump, which takes a series that was for so much of its run steeped in 1980's culture and pushes it into the early to mid 90's, even managing to forge ahead three years further to 1994 in the season premiere. AOL is king, the internet is in its infancy and now the gang finds themselves in a far different place than they were a decade earlier when they spearheaded the PC craze. But not much has changed either as they constantly find themselves being thwarted by those with similar, sometimes identical ideas executed better or with more capital behind it.

Initially, there almost seems to be a lack of tension and conflict compared to prior seasons as everyone actually appears to be in a pretty good place, both personally and professionally. But appearances are deceiving, even as Gordon celebrates his 40th birthday with a party (complete with the Blue Man Group) and shares a business partnership with Joe that, for the first time, seems to also be a legitimate friendship built on respect and trust. Unfortunately, even as they've grown, they still can't seem to agree on a direction for the company, and the addition of Gordon's daughter Haley into the fold as founder creates all sorts of complications neither were quite ready for.

Donna toasts Rover's success

On the other side is their corporate opponent Donna, now a formidable executive willing to win at any cost, fully completing a transformation that occurred back when she booted Cameron out of Mutiny. Watching her rule over Rover underlings (including Bos) with an iron fist, develop a drinking problem and take colleagues into her bed is jarring, but knowing what we do about Donna up to this point, I believed it. She always had ambitions that stretched beyond what Gordon had imagined for both when they were married, and she's now in her mind making the necessary sacrifices to execute on them.

This is probably Kerry Bishé's  best season, taking extremely unlikable behavior and giving it motivation, while sliding in signs of the old Donna through her positive interactions with Gordon and the relationship with her kids, most notably rebellious teen Joanie. Formerly the show's most beloved character, we start to see cracks in Donna develop with each passing episode that remind us why, making what's earned between her and Cameron in the series' final minutes that much more rewarding. And while the latter has made significant strides in her maturation as a rational functioning adult, the tension between the two stemming from what went down at Mutiny runs through much of the season whenever they're forced to interact.

As far as Cameron's come, we're also reminded at so many points just how little she's changed, even as she and Joe have another go at a formerly toxic relationship that for a while feels like it could really work. Of course it inevitably doesn't, due in part to Cameron doing what she's always done: run away. With her future as a game designer in limbo, she purchases a piece of land, isolating herself from the world while living out of an airstream trailer.

Haley at the negotiating table

While the thrill of creating and coding has always been her life force, she can't help but get sucked into the battle between Donna and Bos' Rover and Joe and Gordon's Comet, with Gordon's daughter Haley stuck in the middle. The biggest benefit of the show's jump into the 90's is the development of what might be the series' strongest plotline, as Gordon connects with his now teenage daughter, who ends up being a lot more like him than both are willing to concede.

More than fulfilling the daunting task of stepping into a character late in the game that's already played by someone else, an endearingly goofy and likable Susanna Skaggs basically owns this season, as her story becomes that of Gordon's and Joe's. While she's undoubtedly going through some things, both related to her social awkwardness and sexual identity, the bigger concern is Joe, who's never met an idea he couldn't shape to fit his vision or a person he couldn't take advantage of to do it. We saw it at Cardiff, again at Westgroup and most famously, with the anti-virus software idea he lifted from Gordon to build his own company

When he gets his claws into Haley's idea and starts working with her, there's legitimate concern he'll see dollar signs and be more than willing to throw a little kid under the bus and destroy his friendship with Gordon to see it through. That this would have happened with Season One or Two Joe, but doesn't occur now, is perhaps the first sign that put cold, calculating Joe MacMillan is being put to bed.

Gordon's life flashes before him in "Who Needs a Guy"

 With that metaphorical death also comes an actual one for Gordon, who quite literally sees his life flash before his eyes moments before his hallucinatory death in the landmark episode, "Who Needs a Guy." The cruel twist was that he finally seemed to arrive at a place of happiness. Running a successful company, on relatively good terms with Donna, having loyal friends, in a healthy relationship with new girlfriend, Katie (Anna Chlumsky) and sharing a personal and professional bond with his daughter that defies description in its overall impact, it was an awful time to go. But it was also the right time, handled so beautifully and with such grace, no one could dare label it emotionally manipulative, as shocking TV deaths so often tend to be.

You wonder how the series could continue after the passing of one of its most important characters until the realization sets in that it doesn't need to. Or at least it only has to do it for a few more episodes. And does it ever. As the shocking news ingeniously moves from character to character in what feels like the cruelest, most painful game of telephone tag in dramatic TV, we must adjust to new reality for the series that's forcing its characters to hit the reset button on their lives with only three episodes remaining.

The grieving process and the possibility of each finding their own way to remember Gordon and begin to somehow try to survive without him is vividly explored in the powerful episode "Goodwill," as Joe and Cameron help Donna and the girls sort out Gordon's belongings.  As the rift between Donna and eldest daughter Joanie grows greater, there's some signs of healing in her seemingly irreparable former friendship with Cameron. Ironically, just as that glimmer of hope presents itself, a sullen, withdrawn Joe's vision of a post-Gordon Comet disintegrates with the arrival of Yahoo! so too does his relationship with Cam.

Whenever the conversation of any series finale occurs, that inescapably dirty word, "expectations,"  always seems to be accompanying it. HACF is in the unique, enviable position of hardly having any since few anticipated the series would make it past its inaugural season, much less be able to map out an exit strategy for a fourth. But for fans of the show who were religiously watching it and knew how good it became, there were expectations that these characters who have developed so much since the pilot would earn a send-off that not only makes narrative sense, but provides suitable closure and a necessary amount of room open for interpretation.

Donna contemplates her future in "Search"

The penultimate episode, "Search," and its succeeding finale, the Karyn Kusama-directed "Ten of Swords," finds a way to honor the past while also looking forward to an fuzzy, uncertain future that comes more clearly into focus in its closing minutes. While Gordon's gone, his creations and failures still feel as integral to the series as when he was alive, driving these characters onward whether they're ready or not.

For Cameron, it appears as if her investor Alex Vonn (Molly Ephraim) will finally provide the outlet necessary to let her ideas roam free without interference. Instead, she again becomes an unwilling puppet to a strangers' vision, reminding her just how creatively fruitful that Mutiny partnership with Donna truly was. In one of the season's most wonderful scenes, both return to the abandoned Mutiny and Comet offices, envisioning a future where they give it another go, naming their fictitious company "Phoenix" as its imaginary neon logo blinks on the wall behind them. They each own their biggest mistakes with Mutiny, determining they would inevitably screw it all up the same way if they tried it again, but with one key difference. This time, they'd have the self-awareness to make sure they walk away friends.

Now at the top of the corporate hierarchy having successfully taken over AGGE and taken it to new heights in the wake of Diane's retirement, Donna's soul-searching has not only made her a better boss and more motivating leader, but allowed her to connect with backpacking daughter Joanie on a level not previously thought possible. All roads lead to her Sheryl Sandberg-like speech Donna delivers at her self-hosted female coders party, conveying a message about work and sacrifice that's as timely and relevant now as it would have been in 1994. Given the character's history, it doesn't feel sappy or sentimental. It just seems right, like a declaration of facts from someone who's earned her place at the head of the table.

Cameron listening intently to Donna's speech

Try as she might, Cameron can't run away this time. Whether she's falling into Donna's pool while clumsily trying to make an exit or working with her to take apart Haley's computer (in a brilliant call-back to Donna fixing the girls' "Speak and Spell" in the pilot), the forces are conspiring to prevent Cam from visiting her mom in Florida. This is where she belongs, as a roadside breakfast with Donna at a diner ends up being the scene that encompasses so much of the series.

A cash register opens. Money is exchanged. People talk. Then Donna runs out to deliver the immortal line to a waiting Cameron at the car: "I Have An Idea." And with that, a series known for its meticulous musical cues saves one of its biggest for last, as Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill" starts to take us out. It's a fairly traditional but thematically appropriate choice given how much of the show's identity is inseparable from its soundtrack, specifically when it comes to Cameron, who Mackenzie Davis made the show's beating beating heart while subsequently emerging as its future star, garnering attention for her more widely seen turns in the Emmy-winning Black Mirror: "San Junipero" and Blade Runner 2049. But there's no mistaking that she earned both opportunities due directly to her work on this.

Upon realizing the show was jumping to 1994, there was palpable excitement in discovering what music supervisor Thomas Golubić would do when pushed past the series' early cyberpunk 80's aesthetic and into a new decade. We got a taste of at the end of last season with his unforgettable incorporation of the Pixies' "Velouria" and he doesn't disappoint here, as Hole, James, The Cowboy Junkies and The Breeders help provide a voice for the decade. He also ventures out the period box when necessary, like with the memorable use of Dire Straits' "So Far Away" following Gordon's death, and this final selection, channeling Gabriel's 1977 hit to reflect both the pain and excitement of moving on.                     

Cam and Donna on the cusp of a new idea

I love that we never hear what Donna's idea is in that diner, creating a contemplative sequence that carries echoes of The Sopranos' contoversial finale. Sure, we can speculate. Ebay? Napster? Social Media? Paypal? Smartphones?  There's enough evidence in the scene pointing to each, all or none of those innovations, but it's better we never find out and are instead left endlessly speculating what she had in mind. Anything revealed couldn't meet our expectations anyway, and if we knew what it was, chances are we'd be too busy thinking of ways it could fail to truly stop and appreciate the moment. And it probably will fail, which we've learned by now won't mean the end of the world for any of these characters whose lives and careers were defined by creating "the thing that gets you to the thing."

The series' big remaining piece of unfinished business is Joe MacMillan, the one character we weren't sure could ever come to terms with Gordon's death or himself.  If Cameron was always the one to retreat and run, this time it's Joe's turn, packing his bags and heading home to New York to put this all behind him. The expectation is a return to IBM and the reappearance of the slick, suit-wearing Don Draper/Patrick Bateman hybrid from the first season scares us (however briefly) into thinking Joe has once again regressed, having not experienced an inkling of personal growth from his time with these people over the past decade. The finale is full of clever misdirections involving Cam leaving, Bos' health and Donna's uncertain future. In each of these cases, the rug is pulled out to reveal a better outcome, but never more so than when Joe drives up to what we believe will be IBM headquarters in his Lotus sports car, arriving instead at his office at a local university where he's teaching humanities.

With the Cardiff Giant PC resting atop his desk and pictures of Gordon and Haley in front of him, Joe's finally found a way to move forward while fully embracing instead of resenting the successes and failures that got him here. As in the pilot, he's again in a classroom, only this time it's not to poach talent, but share knowledge.

Professor Joe MacMillan in "Ten of Swords"

As in the pilot episode, Joe opens with the line: "Let me begin... by asking a question" Only this time his delivery carries none of the slimy, know-it-all arrogance it did then, stated with a genuine curiosity that could have only come from someone humbled by experience. It's the perfect final line for a character whose perceived lack of dimension became the easy target of so many of the show's early criticisms, since retroactively corrected by the writers and Lee Pace's multi-layered performance, helping position the series as one of the medium's most overlooked.

Halt and Catch Fire proves again in its final season that it was still even better than it's recently gotten credit for, having not only earned the hardest of victories with an ideal send-off, but told a story that now justifies many of the early decisions the show makers faced derision for. It all makes sense now, and while we know that couldn't have been the plan all along, they deserve credit for making us believe that it was by having all the pieces perfectly fit. The rare achievement that ups its game with each successive season until peaking when it most mattered, the challenge was always convincing more people to watch, which still could come.  For a show many accused of reverse engineering the most successfully familiar aspects of AMC's greatest dramas, HACF succeeded where few did, changing course midway through to carve out a path of its own.           

Halt and Catch Fire (Season 3)

Creators: Christopher Cantwell and Christopher C. Rogers
Starring: Lee Pace, Scoot McNairy, Mackenzie Davis, Kerry Bishé, Toby Huss, Mark O' Brien, Annabeth Gish, Manish Dayal, Matthew Lillard
Original Airdate: 2016

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

**Spoiler Warning: This Review Reveals Plot Points From All Three Seasons of the Series**

"The barriers between us will disappear. And we’re not ready. We’ll hurt each other in new ways. We’ll sell and be sold. We’ll expose our most tender selves only to be mocked and destroyed. We’ll be so vulnerable, and we’ll pay the price. It’s a huge danger. A gigantic risk. But it’s worth it. If only we can learn to take care of each other. Then this awesome, destructive new connection won’t isolate us. It won’t leave us, in the end, so totally alone."

It's a good feeling when you stick with something and it pays off. Two years ago, an 80's-set series about the personal computer revolution called Halt and Catch Fire premiered with a reasonable amount of promotion and unrealistic expectations for a network looking to "replace" Breaking Bad and Mad Men, as if that were possible. With alarmingly low ratings and wildly mixed reviews, its initially over-the-top, inconsistent storytelling dragged down a still promising series searching for a voice. Any voice. But even from the very beginning, something was there. The setting, acting, directing, cinematography, production design and overall concept had too much potential to just throw in the towel. This was a well made show that needed a lot finessing to reach its fullest potential, assuming it wouldn't be cancelled before then.

The cast of AMC's Halt and Catch Fire (Season 3)

After AMC surprisingly renewed this for a second season, the writers started working out the kinks, readjusting its focus, as we started to sense a journey for these increasingly nuanced characters, and the series, for the first time, seemed to be flirting with greatness. At that time last year I wrote that those improvements would probably need one more season to fully take hold, but if they did, breaking the through the glass ceiling to reach the upper echelon was legitimately possible. Unfortunately, with the show hemoraging even more viewers, that possibility of more episodes seemed to be a pipe dream. 

Credit should go to AMC for realizing that the TV model has changed enough that ratings matter less and the network's commitment to quality is part of how HACF has arrived here. Season 3 is not only its best, but it retroactively redeems and justifies all the decisions made up to that point, most especially those from its now underappreciated first season. And you can actually pinpoint the moment this all happens. It comes at the end of a season few thought would even happen, as creators and eventual showrunners Chris Cantwell and Chris Rogers make a narrative decision that quite literally changes the game, proving the show deserves to share the room with television's top dramas. And this while another far differently conceived computer-centric critical favorite, USA's Mr. Robot, struggled through a disappointingly dense sophomore season. In contrast, there's comfort in just how simple and unfussy HACF is. It would be easy to keep complaining that no one's watching a show this good, but if the network doesn't seem to care, then why should I?  I'm just glad to have it.

Whether it's personal computing, laptops, message boards or first-person shooter games, the ideas and innovations that come from the characters residing in the show's hardwired 80's universe are ahead of the curve. Sometimes frustrating so. They're always just a little too early for what's coming next, with the rest of the world either unprepared for what they've created or the technology not yet where it needs to be. This has almost become a running joke with many pointing out unfavorable comparisons to Forrest Gump, as they seem to have a presence or role in every key computing breakthrough of the past thirty years, even if it's just a walk-on. And up until this season, I may have agreed. But now they're right where they belong, on the precipice of something huge, everything else that's preceded it feels like a primer. A string of baby steps, hiccups and failures meant to get us here.

Joe MacMillan, founder of MacMillan Utility

It's 1986 and when we last left the slick, manipulative Joe MacMillan (Lee Pace), he had once again manipulated "Gordon, "stealing" his anti-virus program to build his own company, MacMillan Utility, and closing a deal for office space in California. It's a venture Gordon could have been involved in had he not been given an ultimatum by Donna (Kerry Bishé) to move with her and the kids from Texas out to Silicon Valley, as she and Cameron (Mackenzie Davis) relocate the latter's now rapidly growing startup, Mutiny. With his health woes continuing and the wounds inflicted by his recent affair still fresh, Gordon (Scoot McNairy) wasn't given much of a choice but to wipe the slate clean and start over.

Similarly, Cardiff Electric's former Sales V.P. and everyone's favorite ex-con, the incomparable James "Bos" Bosworth (Toby Huss) is also once again along for the ride, after a brief return to the corporate world reminded him how alive he felt at Mutiny, and how strained his relationship with his son still is. While it might be cliched to state that these characters are at a crossroads, the writing, acting and directing throughout this season pays that description off. In a brilliant bit of misdirection, every one of them is forced out of their comfort zone, forcing viewers to reevaluate them, before arriving at an emotional crescendo that brings the entire series full circle.

Clad in white linen pants and sporting a full beard, we're witnessing a more relaxed, Zen-like Joe MacMillan than in episodes past, clearly taking a cue from early Steve Jobs. And like Jobs, Joe's an idea man used to answering to no one, making the presence of a board his worst nightmare. This nightmare comes in the form of venture capitalist Ken Diebold (a mustachioed Matthew Lillard), who acts as a puppeteer, pulling the strings of an increasingly helpless Joe, who's company is slowly slipping away from him amidst a software pricing battle (ep. 3.3, "Flipping The Switch"). The little relief he finds comes from a working friendship with MacMillan Utilty's newest employee, Ryan Ray (Manish Dayal), a socially awkward ex-coder at Mutiny whose forward-thinking ideas were constantly shot down by Cameron.

Joe and Ryan brainstorming ideas

With Ryan under the tutelage of his hero, Joe MacMillan, the two begin working on something big, and it's an apprenticeship that not only echoes his days of working with Gordon on the Giant in the garage, but changes the course of the series. It's the first of many call-backs that somehow creates nostalgia in viewers for a series that's only been on a couple of years, and sets Joe on his eventual path of doing right by Gordon. It may be fair to call Ryan the most important supporting character the show's ever had, at least as far as being the trigger for these characters to land where they need to be. And if nothing else, he writes and verbally delivers what ends up being the series' manifesto, (ep. 3.8, "You Are Not Safe") a monologue both timeless and timely in how it accurately describes the dangers and benefits of a future where everyone is connected, while somehow still being completely disconnected from the world in which they live. In other words, the present day.

Growing at too fast a speed to keep up, Mutiny is slipping away from its free-spirited, rebellious founder Cameron and the more composed, business savvy Donna. They just don't know it yet. Or rather, one of them does, and the other won't listen. Unlike for Joe, outside assistance comes for Mutiny from a more benevolent source, venture capitalist Diane Gould (Annabeth Gish), an acquaintance of Donna who's seriously considering investing in the company provided a few obstacles are cleared. Without going into the specifics of how, all of this turns out to be a disaster ten times worse than what Joe's experiencing because at least you know he'll always have some kind of nefarious plan in his back pocket. It sets off a chain of events that puts Mutiny founder Cameron on a collision course with the supposedly more capable Donna, with Gordon and Bos caught in the middle.

Cameron and Donna, while never exactly friends, managed to make Mutiny work, and viewers were always clear where each stood on the company food chain. If the former is a talented, but extremely immature coder who fell into a CEO role she's entirely unsuited for and doesn't want, then the latter is the heart and soul of the company, as well as the show's moral compass. Coupled with Kerry Bishé's extremely warm, likable presence and do-it-all performance, it's easy to see why Donna's been the fan favorite since day one. It's certainly helped Cam has been written to be at her most petulant this season, panicking at criticism or compromise, firing people on a whim and disappearing for weeks at a time while Donna steers the ship, making tough decisions for Cameron to be pissed about when she decides to show up for work. Much of the time, Cam comes off as a scared little girl, which until now has been touchingly reinforced with her relationship with Bos, who's always viewed himself as her father figure of sorts. Except only for the fact that she did have a father who died in Vietnam and her trip back to Dallas (ep. 3.5,"Yerba Buena") to find closure, and potentially reconnect with the returning Tom (Mark O' Brien), finds even Bos justifiably fed up with her behavior, perhaps permanently straining their bond.

Gordon and Cameron playing Super Mario Bros.

If there's a silver lining for Cam this season, it's her surprising friendship with Gordon despite the fact she's at war with his wife. But Gordon's been marginalized too, essentially blackmailed into joining Mutiny, even as his role in the company remains completely undefined. Retreating to the confines of his closet with a ham radio as his symptoms of toxic encephalopathy intensify, it's the first time we're forced to consider that Donna might not be as perfect as we thought. Watching Cam and Gordon bond over beating Super Mario Bros. (ep. 3.6, "And She Was") not only works as pure nostalgia for viewers who grew up trying to do the same, but provides some of the season's few moments of joy for these characters. Gordon wants to help her in fight against Donna, or at least attempt help them find some common ground, but it's painfully clear that his professional allegiance will have to remain with his wife, no matter how rocky their relationship.

As the company heads toward a potential IPO it may or may not be ready for (ep. 3.7, "The Threshold") a funny thing happens to our perceptions of Donna and Cameron. Maybe it's okay to think you're right all of the time, and maybe even okay to lie and manipulate a little bit if you think it's in everyone's best interests, but if you do all these things, you better be right. As all the cards are laid out on the table, it appears Donna was dead wrong. The moment when Cameron slowly exits the Mutiny offices, doubled over, heaving and gasping for air as her eyes flood, it's apparent the series just landed its biggest emotional blow and Mackenzie Davis delivered it, further solidifying her as TV's best, most unheralded actress.

Despite all of Cam's childish, immature behavior throughout the series, we still feel real sympathy for her due to Davis' performance in that scene and everything leading up to it. Donna may have rapidly grown Mutiny and taken it to the next level, but it wasn't her idea. It was Cam's baby. And while it may be a disturbing parallel, Donna symbolically aborts it just as she literally aborted her own baby last season when Cameron secretly drove her to that clinic.

Cameron gets kicked out of Mutiny

Donna's made many sacrifices to achieve her professional goals but the explosive impromptu meeting that determines Mutiny's fate casts that in a different light. She's now a money person, and potentially even a sell-out, short-changing Mutiny's long-term prospects for a big payout and petty revenge. And the amazing thing is that Bishé doesn't really alter a single note in her performance of the Donna we've known and loved since Season 1. It's just a matter of the writers reframing everything that been in front of our faces the entire time. And yet it's still just as easily possible to defend her actions from a business standpoint and see why she felt the need to make these choices, as selfish as they seem.  In many ways, Diane is her role model, foreshadowing her eventual future as a single mother trying to conquer the business world.

If it seems nearly impossible for the season to continue after an event more befitting a series finale, this not only does that, but tops it twice over. Just as Cam's life comes crashing down, Joe's master plan with Ryan to break away from his own company ends in a tragedy that directly or indirectly alters the lives of every character, most specifically him. When Joe MacMillan awakens in his apartment to cops and an open terrace door, he seems for the first time truly shaken to his core. Dare we even say a changed man. The same Joe who hit an armadillo with his car in the pilot episode, sabatoged an entire project at Cardiff just to get press and burned a truckload of Giant computers, and earlier in the season even had an HIV scare, finally hits rock bottom and suddenly everything that came before starts to make a lot more sense.

Of course, this moment means nothing without all of those, and we can recognize both in Lee Pace's delivery and reactions that this guy, as we've known him, is done. In Joe's own words, even he "can't work with Joe MacMillan anymore." The character who seemed to start as a Don Draper-Patrick Bateman hybrid is now a fully developed, three-dimensional human being driving the narrative. A narrative that seems to have reached its conclusion with what again could have easily been a suitable series finale. And it's with no where else for its characters to go, that the writers pull off their grandest trick yet, leaving the 80's in the rearview mirror. They've gone as far as they can go.

Copyright, 1990.

Had it run long enough, that intriguing possibility that the series could pull off a major time jump or flashforward was always on the table. It just makes sense. And its arrival in the first episode (ep. 3.9, "NIM") of its two-part season finale, makes for thrilling television. It's the high-water mark for the show, aweing and rewarding audiences who stuck around long enough to witness its disorienting opening minutes where we're wondering what's going on. Time jumps have been misused and overused so much it's tough to remember when they weren't commonplace. But it's also just as easy to forget how well they can work, freeing up the writers' creative options and enhancing already strong characters by taking them in a new, fresh direction.

When we see the Windows 3.0 screen and realize the series has hit the reset button, making a seamless and organic transition to 1990, it's clear why those preceding episodes has such an air of finality to them. As we scramble to fill in the blanks of the past four years (and it doesn't take long) the true masterstroke of this idea is how the show is rapidly approaching an era where the world and technology is finally catching up to these characters' ideas. And if they took all took a strange detour over the past season, pushed and pulled in surprising ways, this move returns the series to its core. They all converge together again having grown and matured, while also realizing that the more things change, the more they've also stayed the same. Joe's itching to get back in the game, Donna's out on her own, divorced from Gordon, who's struggling to control his rebellious teen daughter and progressing illness while reentering the dating game.

The biggest change has come over a very different looking and acting Cameron, whose time spent in Japan as a successful Atari game designer married to Tom seems to have mellowed and wisened her to the point that she's now open to a reunion of sorts. If anything, THE BIG IDEA certainly seems important enough to warrant it. Bringing back the COMDEX convention (where the show staged one of its strongest first season episodes), is another great touch and a reminder that Joe and Cameron will always be damaged goods, yet intrinsically linked since that first scene in the pilot when he recruited her out of the classroom. It's a dynamic that's sort of taken a backseat to the rest of the action over the course of two seasons, while still bubbling just enough under the surface, destined at some point to reemerge. And the writers couldn't have possibly timed it better.

Joe and Cameron reunite at COMDEX

The brainstorming sessions that occur in the season's final episode (ep. 3.10, "NeXT") do more to reveal the history between these four than maybe any other previous interaction in the series because their interpersonal dynamic affects every technology-related discussion or argument they have. And those debates hold us captive, both because they directly relate to the present and Joe MacMillan's never better than in sales mode, only this time driven by inspiration rather than ego, envisioning the web as a door everyone and anyone can eventually enter and do inside what they wish.

We also sees a more mature, world weary Cameron taking agency in her own life and making a rational decision she couldn't have just a few years earlier. It appears that Donna may have finally gotten her receipt for killing Mutiny when she realizes Cam has cut her out of the very idea she brought to them in an effort to put the band back together. It's no coincidence that Donna's emotional breakdown echoes Cameron's reaction upon discovering she was kicked out of the company she built.  It feels right that the final image we see this season is of Joe, Gordon and Cameron huddled over a monitor working again, as if they've taken this long, sometimes torturous journey to come full circle. Only now they're ready and the timing is right for them to begin the project they've unknowingly been preparing for since day one.

The gang is back together

With the series now so clearly in the zone and completely sure of its voice, it seems nearly impossible to for this not too exit on an extremely high note. And with the recent announcement of Halt and Catch Fire's renewal for a fourth and final season, the writers can plan for a proper finish without that perpetual cancellation ax hanging over their heads. Regardless of how many are or aren't watching the show, its tremendous improvement and uncommonly high quality has, in the very least, earned it that privilege.

Halt and Catch Fire (Seasons 1 and 2)

Creators: Christopher Cantwell and Christopher C. Rogers
Starring: Lee Pace, Scoot McNairy, Mackenzie Davis, Kerry Bishé, Toby Huss, Aleksa Palladino, James Cromwell, Mark O' Brien, Scott Michael Foster, Graham Beckel, John Getz, Annette O'Toole
Original Airdate: 2014-2015 

Season 1: ★★★ (out of ★★★★)
Season 2 ★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

                                                                **Contains Minor Spoilers and Plot Details**

“Computers aren’t the thing. They are the thing that gets us to the thing.”

When AMC premiered Halt and Catch Fire, on June 1, 2014, there was this unspoken expectation that Christopher Cantwell And Christopher C. Rogers' period drama about the 80's personal computer boom would be the new centerpiece for the network. With Breaking Bad finished, Better Call Saul's potential for critical and commercial success still up in the air, and Mad Men on its way out, they needed a new hit. And while they never came out and said it, the plan was for HACF to inherit the throne of prestige television, with the advertising relentlessly touting it as being "from the producers of Breaking Bad." Then people saw it. Or more accurately, a few people did, and were only mildly impressed. Critics like Alan Sepinwall justifiably took it task for trying too much too soon, citing that a story about techies trying to reverse engineer a PC was really about a series trying to reverse engineer the acclaimed dramas that preceded it, with mixed results.

AMC's Halt and Catch Fire

Incorporating easily identifiable elements from both Breaking Bad and Mad Men, HACF was already being written like a show that belonged in their company without earning that right. But the most frustrating thing was how much potential it had and how many promising signs there were that it could reach that level if the writers just got out of their own way. After a satisfying pilot (Ep.1.1, "I/O") that appropriately debuted online before the premiere, the rest of the season was wildly uneven, while still showing glimmers of hope that they're on to something.

While the acting, directing, cinematography, music and production design can on any day compete with AMC's finest, it's at the service of a story desperately trying to find itself in its first season. All the ingredients can be there, but unlike film, TV is first and foremost a writing medium. And we also know too well that it's a numbers game in which the prestige factor can only go so far. When the rating aren't there, they'll pull the plug. So give the network credit for having the patience to grant it a second season and the creative forces credit for listening to all the criticisms and feedback and making those necessary changes. You'd have to go back to the sophomore season of NBC's Parks and Recreation to find a show that course corrected itself to such an extreme. Gifted with another chance, they listened, addressing nearly every problem until the rebooted series became what it was meant to be all along.

Set in the Silicon Prairie of Dallas, Texas in 1983, the series initially centers around the arrival of charismatic former IBM employee Joe MacMillan (Lee Pace), who mysteriously exited the company in a cloud of controversy. Now determined to one-up his ex-employer at their own game and make a name for himself, he formulates a plan to reverse engineer an IBM PC. To do it, he manipulates his way into getting hired by John Bosworth (Toby Huss), the VP of sales for Cardiff Electric, a fledgling software company loosely based on the real life, Texas-based Compaq. But what he really needs from Cardiff is Gordon Clark (Scoot McNairy) a brilliant engineer and former systems builder who previously tried and failed at launching a new computer  with his wife Donna (Kerry Bishé) at the '81 COMDEX convention.

Mackenzie Davis as rebellious coder Cameron Howe

With Cardiff facing certain legal action from IBM, they're forced to enter the PC business as Joe brings in college student and rebellious coding superstar Cameron Howe (Mackenzie Davis) as their programmer. Possessing the punkish, rebellious spirit of Angelina Jolie in Hackers while recalling the look of Mary Stuart Masterson in Some Kind of Wonderful, she's as temperamental as she is brilliant, and as much a visionary as Joe. But under his manipulative leadership, the question becomes how these three difficult personalities can co-exist to create a machine that can not only compete with IBM, but take computer technology into the future. But what will be the cost to each of them personally?

The show's unusual title actually refers to a now defunct machine code instruction that shuts down the computer's central processing unit. And the biggest obstacle facing the creators is how to make a piece of entertainment about people sitting around computers engaging. Taking its cue from The Social Network, the writers eventually realize that the key is having us care about the characters by raising the personal stakes as high as possible. The personal and professional aspects must be intrinsically merged, traveling on the same road to a clear destination the viewer wants to be on a journey toward. The first season's inconsistency mainly results from them instead going in a couple of different directions at once, causing a lack of focus and confusion as to the series' mission.

Lee Pace as the enigmatic Joe MacMillan

Perhaps overcompensating for what the network feared would be an abundance of technical jargon clobbering audiences, the writing seemed more focused on cloning Mad Men's Don Draper instead of the journey of these characters. While it probably wasn't intentional to turn Joe MacMillan into a less interesting hybrid of Draper and American Psycho's Patrick Bateman, but that's how it played out when the material hit the screen. Each minute spent on his "mysterious" past (which includes a strained relationship with his father, commitment issues, and bi-sexuality) feels derivative and especially irksome in the season's draggy middle episodes, which are weighed down heavily by the writers' early insistence on depicting him as an irredeemable sociopath.

The show is better than its creators initially seem to know and so is Lee Pace, who's just handed too much of a cliched anti-hero right out of the gate to make it entirely successful. With better writing in the next season, we get the nuanced portrayal we suspected him capable of all along, as the show hits the ground running with a more concrete vision, raising everything and everyone around it. I'm making it sound like the first season is terrible when in fact it's only the presentation of Joe holding it down. Making it all the more frustrating is how much greatness hovers around the edges and the potential it has moving forward, specifically in regard to the other supporting characters and their relationships.

As the Steve Wozniak to Joe's Steve Jobs, Gordon is the nuts and bolts engineer, self-proclaimed visionary salesman Joe needs to execute his plan, but also a walking disaster run down by life. If Joe's Don Draper at the start of the series then Gordon's Walter White, even if Scoot McNairy's tortured super nerd performance far transcends such a simplistic description. An alcoholic consumed by failure and basically a doormat to everyone in his life, including his wife and daughters.

Donna (Kerry Bishé) and Gordon (Scoot McNairy)

Much of the early episodes are spent wondering what a smart, capable woman like Donna is doing with this guy, until realizing she has her hang-ups too. Having previously played onscreen spouses in the Best Picture winning Argo, Bishé and McNairy and able to expand that sketch to a greater scale as an entirely different kind of couple, presenting one of the more realistic, period accurate TV marriages we've seen depicted on screen in years.

Far from a passive spectator to her husband's lost dreams and ambitions, Donna's the breadwinner in this household with her job at Texas Instruments and is every bit the intellectual and technological powerhouse Gordon is, if not more so. A scene in the pilot when she fixes her daughter's "Speak and Spell" in alarmingly short order lets us know right off the bat that she isn't Betty Crocker, or even Betty Draper.

Having been business partners with Gordon before, Donna knows the drill, and is justifiably weary of Joe or any new venture. Of course, she gets pulled in along with him, and marital strife, usually the weakest aspect of any drama series, becomes this one's strongest. Joe talks a big game but he's a poor man's Jobs, cribbing his inspirational speeches to use people to get what he wants since he lacks the technical expertise to do it himself. And Gordon is the perfect mark to be manipulated into helping him make and market the ridiculously named, only 15 pound (!) Cardiff Giant PC (Ep 1.7, "Giant").

Gordon's elusive Cabbage Patch Kids

Desperate to prove to his wife he isn't a loser of a father, Gordon's lowest point of the first season comes when he braves a hurricane to steal Cabbage Patch Kids for his daughters (Ep 1.6, "Landfall"). McNairy makes this Gordon's seemingly noble effort come across as hopelessly pathetic, while somehow making the character even more relatable and endearing. It also represents one of many small, but spot-on period details the series skillfully slides in for effect (like Joe intruding on a Clark family outing to see Return of the Jedi).

The costuming and production design may not be as pleasing for viewers to swoon over as the 60's and 70's of Mad Men since the 80's were aesthetically uglier, but that doesn't make its accuracy any less of an accomplishment. Similarly, the soundtrack isn't littered with wall-to-wall 80's hits so much as it's just hitting that occasional, perfectly timed sweet spot with the just the right obscure track from the period, whether it be classic rock, country, punk or new wave depending on the character or moment. And for all those Mad Men comparisons, an area it doesn't fall short is its mind-blowing, Emmy-nominated opening title sequence (accompanied by Trentemøller's synthy electronic theme), easily the best on television right now.

The only person capable of calling Joe out on his B.S. is Cameron, with whom he becomes romantically involved almost from the get-go, even if the fallout from that relationship doesn't fully pay off until the following season. Like Joe, Cam's a forward thinker, only more rebellious and immature and not without her own ideas about where the future is headed. For the most part, they're aligned with his, but they often clash over exactly how to get there.

The Apple Macintosh unveiled

It's ultimately the Joe/Cameron dynamic that torpedoes the entire project and proves that Joe isn't above sabotaging anything he can't completely control or tearing down his own creation if it doesn't meet his standards of excellence. Only when he lays his eyes on Steve Jobs' ultimate creation and IBM's true competition, the Apple Macintosh, does he realize just how inferior their product is, and how right Cam was all along in her desire to make these machines more user-friendly (Ep. 1.9, "Up Helly Aa"). And in seeing a future Joe may no longer be a part of, the series is finally given its beating heart: Failure.

By making this a story about four people with ideas and innovations two or three decades ahead of their time but lacking the capital, technology, or support to bring any to fruition, it now suddenly carries more thematic weight and relevance. Only winners get to write history and since these are completely fictional people, the sky's the limit as far as what can be done with them in the reality we know.

Season 2 starts exploring these exciting possibilities by very wisely shifting the focus off Joe and onto Donna and Cameron, who are struggling to go into business together in the wake of Cardiff's demise. Having caught wind of the fact that these are our two most intriguing characters and the axis around whom the show should rotate, the writers ratchet up the drama, making smart decisions that are brought to life by ambitious direction and terrific performances.

Joe and Gordon start Season 2 at a crossroads

Flash-forwarding to early 1985, Cardiff Electric has been liquidated, resulting in a big payout for company president Gordon and nothing for Joe, causing a reversal of sorts from their positions in the previous season (Ep 2.1, "SETI"). Though, not really. In some ways, Gordon will always be chasing the superficially more successful Joe and itching to impress him, as if that validation, rather than his own work or the love of his wife and daughters, will finally establish him as "something." But in what ends of being a shrewd creative move, they'll spend most of this season apart, with Joe having left Dallas to embark on a spiritual quest to reconnect with his college sweetheart, freelance journalist Sara Wheeler (Aleksa Palladino).

As little as Gordon will deal with Joe, he'll deal even less with his own wife, as Donna becomes immersed in Cameron's ragtag startup business, Mutiny, which they both run out of the latter's house, employing a staff of geeky, misfit coders from Cardiff. Except the immature Cam doesn't really want to run anything, insisting on no titles or bosses, yet whining when things don't go her way and skirting responsibility at every turn. With a specialization in gaming, they hardly have enough capital to keep afloat, and the atmosphere more closely resembles Animal House than an efficiently run company looking to expand.

With Gordon quickly becoming a mentally unstable island unto himself, he can't resist meddling in Donna's new career, further escalating their marital problems until it reaches a boiling point. Problems are just piled onto Gordon this season, and while viewers could make a case it's over-the-top or turns the series into a soap opera, but every great drama is. The question is how well it can be hid. The storyline is just too entertaining, well written and performed to legitimately consider criticizing it.

A disoriented Gordon hits rock bottom

McNairy's physical and emotional transformation in the role over the course of these past ten episodes comes to a head in a parking garage incident that's basically your worst everyday nightmare come to life. The whole season goes a long way in explaining much of the characters' behavior since the pilot, making you consider that Cantwell and Rogers may have had more of a master plan in place than originally suspected. 

Previously playing Donna as the perfect picture of composure and stability, this season is when Bishé gets to play her unraveling under the pressure, foregoing the supermom persona for a more challenging one in the series' most controversial sub-plot. Without giving too much away, it's something most dramas wouldn't dare touch, much less be capable of handling with the intelligence and brutal honesty it is here. Donna's always been the fan favorite because she's the most real and relatable, and now at the show's center where she belongs, Bishé stands out as the most Emmy-worthy of the cast.
                       
With Cam seemingly severing all ties with Joe, the question remains whether it's possible for anyone to really be done with Joe MacMillan. She thinks she is, having moved on in every way with hacker-turned-Mutiny programmer, Tom Rendon (Mark O' Brien), who seems to be her intellectual equal in every way, despite lacking anything resembling a discernable personality.

After putting to bed the smooth, calculating villain from the previous season, this Joe is actually attempting to do the right thing, even if his methods call into question whether he's even changed at all. That the woman he thinks will redeem him just so happens to have a wealthy father, Jacob Wheeler (James Cromwell), who's the CEO of oil company, Westgroup Energy, immediately causing red flags to go up. But the writing's far more nuanced than that, as the full extent of his plans involving Mutiny, and to a lesser extent, Gordon, start taking shape.

The rise of Mutiny

Watching how everything ties together is almost as fascinating as contemplating the goldmine Cameron and Donna could be sitting on if only the world knew they were ready for it. Unfortunately, they're a good twenty years before that technology and even the ideas behind it, start catching up. With the gaming industry being taken over by a little thing called Nintendo, Mutiny must shift its priorities toward chat rooms and what ends up being the initial stirrings of a legitimate online community. In 1985.

It's in one of the series' finest episodes, the Kimberly Peirce-directed "Play with Friends," (Ep. 2.4)  that we realize just how far the writers are willing to go with this forward-looking concept, as Cameron comes up with the idea for a multi-player first person shooter game, clashing with Donna over whether the company's future lies in gaming, Community, or both. It also includes the first known instance of what you could call an "accidental tweet." Again, this is 1985.

While it's fun and even a little surreal charting the evolution of today's social media from that long ago, it's just as wild appreciating Cameron's journey from the hotshot cyberpunk in the premiere episode to a young business owner being forced to grow up, kicking and screaming the entire way. As frustrating as the character's stubbornness is at times, Mackenzie Davis shines, subtly conveying Cam's agonizing lurch into responsible adulthood and the discovery that the world doesn't revolve around her every whim.

Cameron contemplates the future

There comes a point toward the end of the season when it's apparent Cam is as good an actress as the actual actress who plays her, essentially using Joe's own tricks against him (Ep. 2.9, "Kali"). And we're finally forced to admit, that with her huge, expressive eyes and jittery mannerisms, Davis becomes more than just the nerd fantasy she was introduced as when the show premiered. She's also a very natural performer with all the necessary tools to break out as a major mainstream star, whether there's another season or not.    

Cam's bond with former Cardiff executive John "Bos" Bosworth, whose transformation from first season's stuffed corporate suit into father figure is one of the most rewarding and surprisingly organic story arcs. After his release from prison, Mutiny's newest employee provides valuable guidance for some of her toughest decisions, work or otherwise. Laying on that good ol' boy charm and charming salesmanship, Toby Huss makes Bos the show's most consistently funny and likable presence, stealing nearly every scene he's in.

Whether it's winning over a boy's mother on the fence about his presence in Community, or being rejected by his ex-wife, Bos goes beyond providing comic relief to become the show's heart and soul. That such a previously inconsequential character from the first season is now so thoroughly developed and fleshed out is a testament to both Huss' performance and the strides made by the writers to really shake things up.

The world is Joe's for the taking in the Season 2 finale

Season 2 fittingly ends with Joe MacMillan looking out at the San Francisco skyline from his new office, prepared to start yet another venture jump-started by his pilfering of someone else's idea (2.10, "Heaven is a Place"). As a broken man trying to change and do the right thing for much of the season, and even occasionally succeeding at it, his disappointment becomes that much greater upon discovering that sometimes others refuse to play by the rules. And with that, he takes the journey that evolves him into the complex character the writers were desperately trying to make him in the first season. But this time there are no shortcuts. It's earned.

Again standing at the precipice of a revolution, the characters and series head where it seemed destined for all along: Silicon Valley, California. Now that most of the creative issues have been ironed out, there's good reason to believe that if that next season happens, all the cards are in place for it to be the one that achieves complete greatness. With the gang mostly back together, the series come full circle, having grown exponentially since the premiere and with a lot of creative territory still left to mine. 

It still isn't perfect, as it could be even tighter and more focused, with the minor characters sometimes feeling like mere place settings to fill plot until arriving at main course with the core four we care about. But there's just too much potential moving forward to contemplate the possibility that this season may have been its last. And given we're only in '85, there's still a ridiculous amount of time much time left to explore what happens with the these characters and how they'll adapt to the changing times.

The cast of Halt and Catch Fire

The first season works as a primer for its succeeding one, laying the groundwork for the complex plotting and characterization that eventually hook us. HACF had the best of sophomore seasons not only because of the leap in quality, but because it makes the first play better in retrospect. By intrinsically tying the world these people lived and created in to our lives today, the writers crack the code. If it were cancelled now, finally firing on all cylinders, it would be a disservice to anyone who appreciates smart, compelling television.