Carry-On

Director: Jaume Collet-Serra
Starring: Taron Egerton, Jason Bateman, Sofia Carson, Danielle Deadwyler, Theo Rossi, Logan Marshall-Green, Dean Norris, Sinqua Walls, Curtiss Cook, Josh Brener
Running Time: 119 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

There's a scene in Jaume Collet-Serra's action thriller Carry-On where a case passes through airport security as a scan of its deadly contents appear in front of the shocked, panicked protagonist's screen. Scary newspaper clippings flash in our faces while he helplessly watches this weapon of mass destruction move down the conveyor belt. It's just one of the many entertaining and suspenseful moments in a plot best described as Die Hard meets Phone Booth meets the director's own Non-Stop. 

Whether this holds up on repeated viewings is almost beside the point since you'll have enough of a blast watching it once, as an unlikely hero squares off against a ruthless antagonist who thinks he has him wrapped around his finger. And by calmly exploiting this blackmailed airline employee's weaknesses to produce the vicious outcome he's hired for, he'll casually write off any potential deaths as collateral damage. Assessing his hostage is a loser who lacks motivation, he'll underestimate him, discovering that you really can't count on what someone will do in a perilous situation. The result is a cat-and-mouse battle of contingency plans and last minute improvisation, with both men maneuvering to gain the upper hand.

After failing to make the police academy, unambitious TSA agent Ethan Kopek (Taron Egerton) is going through the motions at LAX while his pregnant girlfriend Nora (Sofia Carson) holds an upper management position for the airline. Arriving late on Christmas Eve, Ethan requests supervising the baggage scan lane usually overseen by friend and colleague Jason (Sinqua Walls) in an effort to show gruff supervisor Phil (Dean Norris) he deserves a promotion. But this switch puts Ethan in the crosshairs of The Traveler, a nameless mercenary who leaves him an earbud to receive his instructions.

Ethan's informed by The Traveler that if he doesn't let a specific carry-on case pass through the scanner, Nora gets killed, leaving him with few options. Lounging in the terminal, this mercenary sees everything and communicates with a sniper, The Watcher (Theo Rossi), who's monitoring Ethan's every move, ready the pull the trigger on anyone at a moment's notice. Meanwhile, LAPD detective Elena Cole (Danielle Deadwyler) is tying a double homicide committed by The Traveler to a tip about an airline threat, but faces bureaucratic resistance from Homeland Security. Torn between saving Nora or the lives of these passengers, Ethan will have to dig deep to somehow outsmart this sociopath before it's too late.

Considerable tension builds to how, when and by what means this mystery case will arrive in line and whether Ethan will wave it through, sacrificing hundreds of passengers' lives for Nora's. With The Traveler lurking and conversationally feeding demands into his ear, Ethan needs to stay calm and cooperative, all while subtly sending out distress signals for help. But The Traveler's a step ahead, emphasizing he's no terrorist, but a "facilitator" whose services are retained at the highest price by only the most dangerous criminals. For him, it's just another day at the office.

Egerton sketches out this portrait of a guy who's thrown in the towel, but knows he has to move up the ladder with a baby now on the way. More established in her career, Sofia Carson's Nora displays the patience of a saint, gently nudging him not to give up on his dream of joining the police force. It's a derailed goal we'll eventually get more details about, at least when Ethan isn't dusting off his track skills to frantically rush through the terminal. 

While it's not exactly fair to say Bateman's breaking type after already proving how much he can do, this is probably one of his bigger leaps to the dark side. He's still employing his dry comedic sarcasm, only now as a methodical killer whose conscience is clear of all moral responsibility. Characters like this have almost become an action cliché, but watching Bateman do it packs an extra punch since his trustworthy, everyman screen presence makes the underlying psychology of these scenes play differently than they otherwise would.

It takes a bit before Ethan actually comes face-to-face with Bateman's Traveler, who inconspicuously blends into the crowd with his black baseball cap and down jacket. But all hell breaks loose when that case arrives and the twists and turns start coming, like the addition of another major player, luggage tracker confusion, a thrillingly shot freeway fight and one of the more creative death scenes we've seen in a while.

Much of T.J. Fixman's script is built on characters remaining a step or two ahead as the story zigs and zags in increasingly improbable ways. But we're all in since Collet-Serra keeps things moving at a breakneck pace while the performances only further elevate it. What we're left with easily exceeds your typical Netflix action offerings, utilizing an inspired concept to successfully channel the movies it takes inspiration from.                                           

The Book of Henry

Director: Colin Trevorrow
Starring: Naomi Watts, Jaeden Lieberher, Jacon Tremblay, Sarah Silverman, Lee Pace, Madddie Ziegler, Dean Norris, Bobby Moynihan
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

      **The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers. Read At Your Own Risk**

We frequently complain movies are too predictable. That they don't take enough risks. Be careful what you wish for?  In Colin Trevorrow's The Book of Henry, what starts as a Spielbergian 80's throwback centered around a precocious youngster set in a Norman Rockwell-esque town, jarringly transforms into an assassination thriller. The premise is so preposterous and insane, it's tone shifting so dramatically, that there's a real temptation to praise it on sheer guts alone. For just daring to give us something completely different and unexpected, especially for family entertainment. Then common sense kicks in and you realize a film should generally know what it is, despite Trevorrow doing as good a job as possible at attempting to manage a tonal tidal wave and the performances being generally excellent.

This is hard to detest, if only for the audacity and spectacle of the whole thing. Where it goes awfully wrong is in taking serious, heavy issues like child abuse and murder and incorporating them into a wholesome family feature, wanting to both have its cake and eat it too. Obviously, it can't, and results in the narrative flying off the rails at the midway point, creating a viewing experience that's equal parts fascinating and horrifying. It's truly a wreck you can't look away from, but also an eye-opening wake-up call that most bad movies would be a a lot more fun if they failed as ambitiously as this. For that at least, Trevorrow deserves a ton of credit, salvaging what he can from what's clearly a misguided mess, while still falling short of the complete disaster critics have labeled it as.

11-year-old boy genius Henry Carpenter (Jaeden Lieberher) and his younger brother, Peter (Jacob Tremblay) are being raised by their single mother, Susan (Naomi Watts), who waitresses while working on her yet-unpublished children's books. Frequently doubting her own ability to parent,  Henry handles all the bills and finances and uses his abnormal intelligence to successfully invest in the stock market, earning them a considerable degree of monetary comfort. In a somewhat disturbing role reversal, it's Susan who swears, plays video games and gets drunk with best friend and co-worker Sheila (Sarah Silverman), as Henry serves as the family's protector and provider.

When not saving Peter from school bullies and building complicated Rube Goldberg-like machines with a steampunk slant in their tree house, Henry starts to see disturbing signs that his next door neighbor and class crush, Christina (Maddie Ziegler) is being abused by her stepfather, and local police commissioner, Glenn Sickleman (Dean Norris). An "upstanding member of the community," the allegations will be tough to prove, but Henry comes up with a dangerous, last resort plan that could save Christina if successful. But it's Susan who must decide whether to follow through with it, pitting the trust she has in her genius son and the welfare of a young girl against the dire risks of its potential failure. 

Taking place in a universe where kids create and innovate, it seems to be fall all year-round and people look after each another, Spielberg's classic "Amblin" entertainment logo wouldn't look the slightest bit out of place preceding the film. While certain elements seem odd or out of place early on for a family crowd-pleaser (most notably every scene involving Sarah Silverman's boozy, chest tattooed waitress), you're still prepared to follow this wherever it goes since the script establishes itself early on as as having this kind of retro quality that's both sweetly endearing and inoffensively weird. The kids are quirky, but likable, and there's this fleeting sense that the filmmakers get it and your intelligence won't be insulted. And then the craziness begins.

Read no further if you don't want the rest of the film spoiled....

Almost completely out of nowhere, and rather abruptly, Henry dies from an incurable brain tumor, leaving behind a book of detailed instructions for his mother. Instructions for how to kill Mr. Sickelman. Filled with enough post-death planning to make Jigsaw jealous, this book is a step-by-step murder guide featuring sketches and illustrations from an 11 year-old on how to take out the corrupt, abusive police commissioner. And if this isn't enough, he also recorded an audio tape to walk her through it.

The problem with this entire scenario (besides the glaringly obvious) is that in keeping with the family friendly vibe thus far, Sickleman hasn't really been established as being guilty, much less that bad of a guy. And certainly not enough of one to warrant this. Maybe to these characters, but not to us, since Gregg Hurwitz's script is too afraid to show us the evidence and repercussions of said abuse. And while I'm certainly not advocating some kind of graphic depiction of child abuse for consistency's sake, we needed more than scenes of a sullen, depressed Christina in class and close-up shots of a shocked Henry looking into their window at night.

Making matters worse, Dean Norris has only about two scenes prior to all this, one of which involves his character innocuously asking Susan if she could keep her leaves off his lawn. This combined with the fact that Norris is riding a lifelong wave of audience goodwill from Breaking Bad presents an uphill battle for the film, creating an illusion that this child prodigy's dying wish was for his mom to kill an innocent man. Of course, this isn't true, and as much as I respect the film for not flaunting the naturally intimidating Norris as an over-the-top, mustache-twirling villain, when something as serious as child abuse is introduced as a story device, it needs to be treated with gravity and significance. There's no hedging your bets or it risks coming off extremely tasteless at best and offensive at worst. In other words, they had to definitively show this evil guy has it coming, family friendly or not.

Tonally, there are even stranger creative decisions, like an uncomfortably creepy scene involving Sarah Silverman's alcoholic waitress and a dying Henry that will have you questioning who the town's real child abuser is. Lee Pace appears as neurosurgeon Dr. David Daniels and while he's completely believable in the smallish role, his character takes this active interest in Susan and the family that comes off as weird and unprofessional because the script's so fuzzy about his intentions in order to preserve its wholesome aura. Had the script simply acknowledged all these eccentricities bubbling under the surface instead of pretending to be what it isn't, it could have added depth to the story instead of a series of head-scratching moments.

There are two scenes that are unequivocally great, even if the latter could have some feeling guilty for how suspenseful they find it. The first involves Dr. Daniels explaining the fatal diagnosis to Henry in terms a child could understand, not realizing layman's terms aren't necessary for an 11-year-old as extraordinarily gifted as this. That Henry's already a step or two ahead in figuring out his fate makes their conversation even tougher to watch than it already is. Then there's the pivotal sequence during which a school talent show is intercut with Susan's assassination attempt on Mr. Sickleman.

The idea that this murder mission is supposed to be some kind of inspirational assertion of Susan's parental independence is absurd, but boy does Watts ever sell it.  Most actresses wouldn't have been able to pull off nearly half the insanity she does in the third act with a straight face, but she's downright committed all the way through, drumming up a surprising amount of tension for an admittedly ridiculous situation. You're almost mad at yourself for being on the edge of your seat because it's so silly, but somehow this whole section works almost in spite of itself. And given how scared the movie is to go near the child abuse issue, Trevorrow was at least smart enough to rely on Maddie Ziegler's dancing skills and body language to convey the shame and sadness surrounding Christina's situation that was glaringly absent from the screenplay.

Undoubtedly drawing comparisons to the somewhat similar part he played in 2016's Midnight Special, Jaeden Lieberher takes what could have been some of the more cliched elements of the familiar "gifted child" trope and imbues Henry with a warmth and humor that often overcomes the occasionally frustrating story. Jacob Tremblay isn't given the kind of dramatic showcase here he received a couple of years ago with Room, but brings that same precociousness and intelligence to little brother Peter, who adoringly follows his genius sibling's lead in everything.

You have to wonder if this would have gotten as much hate from critics if it wasn't made by the filmmaker selected to direct Star Wars: Episode IX. Or at least he WAS. While it may make for exciting headlines speculating that this film's failure directly caused Trevorrow's departure or removal from that project, the real story is likely a lot more complicated and less sensational than that. It's a misfire for sure, but one that could have actually been a whole lot worse in the hands of a less talented director. 

Dusting off a frequently rejected script that's been sitting on the shelf since 1998 probably wasn't anyone's idea of a good start, and after seeing it, it becomes even easier to understand why. The Book of Henry deserves credit for legitimately attempting something we've haven't seen before, while also serving as a harsh reminder that certain established movie rules exist for a reason. They work, even if the most fascinating way to fail is by attempting to break them.   

Men, Women and Children

Director: Jason Reitman
Starring: Rosemarie DeWitt, Jennifer Garner, Judy Greer, Dean Norris, Adam Sandler, Ansel Elgort,
Kaitlyn Dever, J.K. Simmons, Dennis Haysbert, Olivia Crocicchia, Elena Kampouris, Travis Tope, Emma Thompson (voice)
Running Time: 119 min.
Rating:  R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Throughout the 1970's, the ABC network aired The After School Special, a series of made-for-TV movies aimed at teens that tackled controversial social issues of the time. If such a special came out today, exploring the dangers of social media and technology, and you mixed it in a blender with American Beauty, the result would sort of strangely resemble Jason Reitman's Men, Women and Children. But while those comparisons seem to set the stage for the latest in a long list of pans for one of the worst received movies of last year, it's actually kind of a compliment. After all, both won awards and critical acclaim for good reason. This sure didn't, but it's certainly more intriguing than expected, and hardly the huge abomination the media trumpeted it as.

Reitman may not achieve everything he sets out to, inevitably falling short of its brilliant teaser poster's promise, but it mostly works. For better or worse, I was gripped by each of the stories that comprise the narrative and impressed by a handful of actors playing against type. The big surprise was that it was a bit more restrained than expected given a subject matter that deals less with the dangers of the digital age, but how people are really the problem.

After a cosmic framing device speculating on humans' place in the universe (sardonically narrated by Emma Thompson), we crash down to Earth where Don (Adam Sandler) is a depressed, sexually frustrated husband stuck in a passionless marriage to an equally bored Helen (Rosemarie DeWitt). She spends her free time at work creating an Ashley Madison profile while he's building up the courage to seek out an escort service and sneaking into his teen son Chris' (Travis Tope) room to view online pornography.

So extreme is Chris' taste in porn that it's actually preventing him from being aroused by anything or anyone else, including would-be girlfriend and aspiring celebrity, Hannah (Olivia Crocicchia). Her vanity proves to be a contagiously destructive influence on younger classmate, Allison (a shockingly good Elena Kampouris), a formerly overweight girl starving herself to gain the attention of an older "bad boy" who wouldn't give her the time of day.

Meanwhile, Hannah's mom Joan (Judy Greer), a former actress, is maintaining her daughter's website, taking and posting inappropriate photos of her for paying subscribers in a desperate attempt to boost her profile. Joan forms a bond with single dad, Kent (Dean Norris) over their mutual dislike of the neighborhood's cyber-watchdog mom, Patricia (Jennifer Garner), whose constant monitoring of daughter Brandy's (Kaitlyn Dever) online and cell phone activity is preventing the teen from having anything resembling a social life.

At school, Brandy finds a kindred spirit in Kent's son, the similarly depressed and introspective Tim (Ansel Elgort), who suddenly quit the football team and is addicted to an online role-playing video game. They start secretly seeing each other in what ends up being the golden ticket storyline, easily doing the best job at conveying the film's themes of loneliness and isolation amidst a world that's more technologically connected than ever. 

Okay, so when described like this, the whole thing does seem a little ridiculous. But it isn't strung together by contrivances or coincidences, as is often the case when dealing with intersecting storylines within a single film. Nothing happens here that's crazy to accept and it plays more like a collection of character sketches. Of course, some are better than others. And as uninteresting as it would seem spending two hours watching strangers text and stare at their screens, this presents that idea more tolerably than similar films exploring the subject, or even movies of other genres with characters electronically plugged in. At least Reitman can provide the reasoning that he's showing exactly what his film is about through their actions.

It's almost painful to reveal that the weakest thread is Sandler's and DeWitt's, if only because the last thing Sandler needs is anyone discouraging him for stepping out of his comfort zone and exploring his dramatic side. Here he proves again just how subtle and effective a performer he is when out of goofball mode. Unfortunately, it's in a typical unsatisfied spouses storyline, as these two downers sulk through their extra-marital affairs. This, along with their son's impotence issues (which isn't given as much time), is the weakest segment, culminating in a resolution that's very matter of fact. Those complaining this film hits audiences over the head with its themes should re-watch this story arc as its restraint is more likely to induce a nap.

The pairing of Dean Norris and Judy Greer is a highlight, with both are cast wildly against type. Norris' Kent is nervous and underconfident in the wake of his wife leaving their family while Greer plays the stage mom from hell, living vicariously through her daughter until a harsh dose of reality knocks her cold. It's an especially big jump for Norris, who's very far removed from Breaking Bad's macho, authoritative Hank Schrader as fans should be surprised just how large his supporting role is and what he does with it.

Tim having this sudden epiphany and quitting the football team because he's miserable for reasons having nothing to do with football just might be the most realistic event in the film. That's just exactly the kind of thing an angry, depressed teen would do and it feels completely earned, as does most of the storyline involving him and Brandy's secret, forbidden relationship. Touching and truthful to a fault, you have to wonder how good a film this could have been on its own, with Elgort and Dever proving why they're on the top of everyone's list of young actors to watch.

Elgort continues his streak of straddling the line between likable jock and sensitive introvert, adding depth to what could have been a superficially drawn teen caricature, while Dever conveys this world of hurt and shame on her face without muttering a word. And with Jennifer Garner's psychotically overprotective parent watching her every move, that's understandable. Would anyone go to the extreme lengths she does to shield her daughter from social media? You wonder why she even lets her daughter have a phone or computer considering all the work she must put in monitoring it.

The most interesting takeaway is that if this took place during another era, we'd still have this issue. It's the technology that's allowing us to hurt each other faster and more impersonally, as a phone or mobile device in the hands of these characters may as well be a pipe bomb. Reitman's multi-narrative approach toward presenting modern technology as gasoline on a fire is a good one, even as many didn't care for how he went about making that point or thought maybe he just shouldn't have said anything at all. As someone who's no fan of his pitiful previous effort, the belabored Labor Day, and agrees he's slipped recently, there's still no denying pitchforks were undeservedly out for this one before it was even released.

Chalk it up to low expectations or this falling firmly within the suburban drama genre I tend to heavily favor, but Reitman deserves credit for at least trying something different and achieving passable results, thanks mostly to the performances. Years down the line, when the technology becomes dated and the film's an artifact, it remains to be seen whether this effort provides any insight on human behavior. It's a movie very much of its time. Of course, that time happens to be now and the characters inhabiting it are irritatingly and uncomfortably recognizable.
        

Breaking Bad: Season 5 (Part II)

Creator: Vince Gilligan
Starring: Bryan Cranston, Aaron Paul, Anna Gunn, Dean Norris, Betsy Brandt, RJ Mitte, Bob Odenkirk, Jesse Plemons, Laura Fraser
Original Airdate: 2013

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

 **Spoiler Warning: This Review Contains Major Spoilers For Season 5 and the Series Finale ** 

 "I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. And I was really … I was alive.”- Walter H. White

After an excruciating year-long wait, the second half of the fifth and final season of Breaking Bad, appropriately titled, "Blood Money," opens unforgettably. The condemned, dilapidated White residence is fenced off and vandalized, its swimming pool now converted into a makeshift teen skate park. Inside, tagged on the wall is a single word: HEISENBERG. But the bearded, disheveled man staring at it isn't Heisenberg. Or Walter White. His name is "Mr. Lambert" and in about six months this is where he'll be, with larger questions still looming about how he'll eventually get there with a trunk full of high powered assault weapons and vengeance on his mind. His former neighbor looks as if she's just seen a ghost. In a way, she has. And he's there to retrieve the ricin. 

A dilapidated White residence in Ep. 5.9 ("Blood Money')

It's an effectively shocking opener because it foretells the season where everything comes full circle. Seeing the White house--which served as a setting for many of the show's most memorable moments-- in that state is jarring enough to know that something huge will go down over the course of these final eight. Speculating exactly how is maddening enough, but the bigger questions heading into the last lap revolve around whether Walter White was really "transformed" into Heisenberg, or he was there all along, laying dormant until the right (or wrong) circumstances brought him to the surface. And, is there still any piece of that man from the pilot episode left?

What creator Vince Gilligan and the incomparable Bryan Cranston have done in managing to have us still root for some form of redemption for the character can, like most things in the series, be traced  to that powerful pilot. It's hard not to muster up sympathy for a man who went from being a genius on the verge of becoming a rich and famous Nobel Prize winner to a high school chemistry teacher working at a car wash on weekends to support his special needs son and being henpecked by an overbearing wife. And then the cancer. Who couldn't relate to not reaching their full potential and being unsatisfied with their life? It hits home on the most basic human level. Walt always viewed himself as a victim, not of his own choices, but circumstances he believed were beyond his control. The cancer diagnosis gave him the control and excuse he so desperately craved, even as he spent the next six years (or year and a half in show time) making choices that scene-by-scene, episode-by-episode, pissed away whatever initial sympathy we had for him.

Yet it's hard to shake that image of a defeated Walt collapsing at the car wash. You can either argue he was using his own perceived failure as an excuse to indulge childish alpha-male fantasies or view his evolution from mild-mannered family man to drug kingpin ("Mr. Chips to Scarface" as Gilligan famously refers to it) as some twistedly dark triumph for a man who felt he never knew true success. It's an arc that reflects back at us our worst tendencies and temptations, and no matter how much evil he commits or lies he tells for the sake of "providing" for his family, Gilligan pulls off the ultimate trick in having us still pull for some kind of victory or happy ending for Walt. And it's all because we remember the pilot, and if we can still root for or relate to him just a little bit, what does that say about us?

Flashing back to Walt and Jesse cooking in the desert

It's only fitting that the last half of season five is all about mirror images and call backs. Walt owning and operating the car wash where he was so humiliated, hiding in plain sight just like Gus Fring at Los Pollos Hermanos. The brutally honest videotaped confession given by a pantless, terrified Walt in the pilot comes back around to a sickeningly false one delivered this time by Heisenberg. And just as the show began with Walt and Jesse cooking in the RV in the hot Albuquerque desert, the series' climactic turning point occurs in that very same location. The REAL cancer is Walt's monstruous pride and sickening ego, now spreading so rapidly that it's infecting and destroying everyone around him that he cared about, and maybe, still does in his own typically twisted way. And that's the cancer that eventually causes his downfall.

We all had our predictions for what would go down in the final episodes while also knowing certain things were inevitable. How they would unfold was more of a question mark. Well, it turns out we knew nothing since Gilligan is a master at taking any expectations and adjusting them to fit the story he's trying to tell. Like an experienced chess player, he's always seems about five or six steps ahead, and he makes his first big move surprisingly early. After Hank's discovery on the toilet in the final moment of "Gliding Over All," we were bracing for a cat-and-mouse game between Walt and his DEA agent brother-in-law that would likely see Hank silently gathering evidence until finally confronting him at the series' end. But Gilligan knew the smartest decision for a character to make isn't necessarily the smartest for the series, wisely deciding to immediately throw down the gauntlet. With only eight episodes left, he knew we were on borrowed time, for both the show and its protagonist turned antagonist.   

How Hank handles the discovery is almost surreal to watch since it's something fans have been playing out in their minds since the pilot. But it's also a reminder of how much we know about the character. Seeing him completely lose it, unable to think rationally when confronted with the news, is tragic not just because of how brilliant he's been at his job, but also because it makes sense. Hank's a man's man who doesn't know how to hold back and I always thought one of the show's greatest accomplishments was having this criminal mastermind right under Hank's nose the whole time and him never once looking like an idiot for not realizing it. In fact, it's been just the opposite. Both men are so smart, but Walt's always been just a bit smarter and this season reflects that. To a point.

Hank and Walt face off in Ep. 5.9 ("Blood Money")

Going all the way back to the pilot, it was easy to categorize Hank as somewhat of a macho stereotype who made racist jokes and emasculated the nerdy Walt at every turn, sometimes even in front of his own son. Subsequent seasons and events (namely the Season 3 parking lot shootout)  proved those initial  perceptions dead wrong. As Hank stands face-to-face with his brother-in-law in his own garage (incredibly lit by the great Michael Slovis) with the knowledge he's Heisenberg, they've essentially switched roles and Walt's baited him, wielding his returning cancer as a sympathy weapon while simultaneously slipping into Heisenberg mode by warning him to "tread lightly."

Our wish for Hank to come riding in as the white knight was never meant to be. He's great at his job, but this isn't his job anymore. It's something else much more personal, so he's starts making stupid decisions that put everyone in Walt's crosshairs, including himself. Since Walt's been such a genius at covering his tracks and (not to mention extremely and believably lucky), there's no physical evidence linking him to anything. Hank has no case. And he definitely can't go to his superiors.

All this is why Walt's fake confession tape framing and implicating his brother-in-law is so frighteningly believable, representing a new low for the character. Every detail was true, just distorted and twisted to fit Walt's story, which even includes the trail of medical money linking Hank to the crimes. It's also one of the many amazing acting showcases for Cranston, who in the scene must give a performance as a man giving a performance. Until recently, Walt wasn't a very good actor, now he's become so skilled in his manipulation that it's getting tougher to pick the more skilled thespian between he and Cranston.

Jesse finally snaps in Ep. 5.11 ("Confessions")

When Jesse, cornered and crumbling as he plans to light the White house ablaze screams, "HE CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH IT!" it may be be the truest spoken, or rather screamed, this season, echoing the sentiments of many viewers. Walt keeps getting away with it over and over again, and believably so. And what's more impressive, given the rapid, breakneck pace of the final 8, is just how long it takes for the walls to close in on him.  He wasn't lying when he told said he was out of the "empire business" and suspicions were correct that the cancer is back, but this last half of the season sees his two abusive relationships with Skyler and Jesse each reach their breaking point. In not all too different ways, both are emotionally battered spouses. Since Todd's (Jesse Plemons) shocking murder of young Drew Sharp in last year's "Dead Freight" and his knowledge that Walt killed his other, more benevolent father figure, Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks), in "Say My Name," Jesse's checked out emotionally, finally having enough of Walt's games.

Much like Mike and Hank before him, Jesse's become that needs eliminating and it's impossible to bring that up without discussing the desert scene in Ep. 5.12 ("Rabid Dog") where he simultaneously chews Walt out for his manipulation tactics, before yet again surrendering, breaking down in the arms of the master manipulator himself. What snaps him out of his catatonic state is the season's most controversial reveal, in which Jesse, preparing to disappear from Albuequerque for good, finally puts together that Walt poisoned Brock.

Gilligan respects and trusts the audience enough to just just show it without explaining how. And with that Aaron Paul should win his next Emmy, taking Jesse on an emotional roller coaster from which there's no return until the final credits roll on the series. The look in his eyes says it all, while it also provides the biggest dramatic platform yet for Bob Odenkirk as "criminal" attorney Saul Goodman, who we knew would start playing a larger role once Walt was found out. That even he seems in over his head is a red flag as to how dangerous the situation has become. Everyone's at risk. Anyone can die. Luckily for Saul, he's ranked pretty low on the expectant death list for obvious reasons, while others are hardly as fortunate. Even his bumbling bodyguards, Huell (Lavell Crawford) and Kuby (Bill Burr) get in on action, before things get too heavy even for them.

While the idea of Jesse teaming with Hank has always been an enticing one, it becomes yet another brilliant instance of Gilligan subverting expectations. It's also an example of how poorly Hank has bungled this entire investigation, showing us that he isn't Superman out to save Skyler and Jesse from the evil clutches of Heisenberg, but a flawed, emotionally obsessed Ahab out to capture his Moby Dick. By wasting no time shoving tape recorders in their faces to get confessions, it's no wonder Skyler won't cooperate and Jesse barely does. She's firmly on Walt's side, giving all the Skyler haters even more ammunition. The cancer clock's ticking and she knows if they lose the money, all of this would have been for nothing. She presents a strong case. Certainly stronger than Hank, who doesn't, and never really did, have enough evidence to nail Walt.

An uncomfortable family dinner in Ep. 5.11 ("Confessions")

The battle lines have been drawn. It's Walt/Skyler vs. Hank/Marie over a dish of tableside guacamole, recalling Jesse's extremely uncomfortable dinner with the Whites earlier in the season. In many ways, the flighty, purple-clad Marie puts on a stronger front than her husband, as the recovering kleptomaniac emerges as a surprisingly rational pillar of strength throughout the season with Betsy Brandt given more to do with the character than ever before. She also gets her first scene in the series with Aaron Paul, treating us to the eye-popping sight of Jesse Pinkman and Marie actually interacting as he stays at the Schrader home.    

Hank and Skyler don't know Jesse like we do, which is important to remember when Hank wires him up like he's sending a lamb into slaughter and then casually laughs about it. Or when Skyler orders Walt to kill him since he's the last loose end. Poor Jesse. Has anyone on this show suffered a more disproportionate punishment for their sins? What's sadder is the only person aside from Andrea and Brock who cares for Jesse at all is Walt, albeit in his own sick, twisted way. Along with Skyler, he's his blind spot and couldn't in his wildest dreams envision a situation where his former student would rat him out and still thinks he can manipulate him back to his side. He takes as much offense at Saul's suggestion that he send Jesse on a "trip to Belize" as he did when it was brought up as an option for Hank. Even Walt has his limits, until Jesse finally proves to be too much of a wild card to his survival and has to go. But it's amazing how much pushing it took for him to get there.  

Walt's delusional belief that he could just walk away from the drug trade with all that cash and no long-term consequences is pure hubris. Pure Walt. He again proves himself unworthy of inheriting Gus' throne by getting into bed with Todd's neo-nazi family, led by the intimidating, uncontrollable Uncle Jack (Michael Bowen), who came through for Walt with the 10-man prison hit in "Gliding Over All." While the business (taken over by Declan's crew in the finale) goes on without Heisenberg, it's certainly taken a nosedive in profit and quality that's alarmed high-strung Madrigal executive Lydia Rodarte-Quayle (Laura Fraser). More cunning and ruthless than her nervous nelly demeanor leads on, she thinks she's found the perfect solution with the Nazis and semi-experienced cook, Todd, who briefly trained under "Mr. White". Instead, she found a bunch of psychos who care even less about quality than Declan's crew and a motivated sociopath with a creepy crush. At least the latter she can use to her advantage.

That Todd Alquist might be the scariest character on the show is no small feat and a testament to Jesse Plemons' ability to alternate from soft-spoken gentleman to emotionless killing machine at the drop of a hat. And yet his respect for Mr. White and even Jesse is always evident. This is a job to him and he's capable of a level of emotional attachment those two weren't at any point during the series. Who would have thought the actor previously best known for being a part of that silly murder arc Friday Night Lights, would find his true calling playing a sociopathic killer? Or that Todd would be a closet Steve Perry fan? That and Walt Jr. meeting his apparent hero and local celebrity, Saul, deliver the two biggest laughs in a season that for good reason contains very few.

Walt surrenders in Ep. 5.13 ("To'hajiilee")

All of this comes to a head in an episode we've literally been waiting six years to see, delivering on every promise since the pilot and making for the most explosive hour of television anyone's ever likely to see. With the gargantuan "Ozymandias,"Looper's Rian Johnson (who previously helmed two of the show's very best in "Fly" and "Fifty-One") completely outdoes himself picking up where the Michelle MacLaren-directed "To'hajillee" cliffhanger leaves off, with Walt is seemingly apprehended in the desert, before a pulse-pounding shootout unfolds. If the in crawl space scene in Season 4 stands as the one of the series' most indelible images, right up there with it has to be a helpless, panicked Walt hiding behind a rock, with tears streaming down his face as Hank, Gomie and Jessie have him cornered.

We find out how BrBa would end if it were any other crime show, with Walt surrendering, being read his rights and given maybe the first look of genuine happiness and relief on Jessie's face since the series began. But this isn't just any other show and to answer the question of how much of Walt remains in Heisenberg, it's worth noting that he does everything in his power to save Hank, who in his final moments realizes that even with 80 million dollars, Walt has about as much bargaining power as he does. He also now knows Walt is no criminal mastermind, with his brief stint of controlled competence in the first half of the season giving way to rash, emotional mistakes. The lies keep getting bigger and less believable. A.S.A.C. Schrader was never one to negotiate anything and with that his fate is sealed, he goes out just as he came in. Like a man. It's the only moment of glory for someone whose pride also did him in this season, as evidenced by his decision to stick around and make what ends up being a heartbreaking final phone call to Marie boasting about his accomplishment.

That Hank dying is about the fourth or fifth most noteworthy event in "Ozymandias" should give you an idea with what we're dealing with. Walt's lying well has run dry the twisted reasoning that he's done all this for his family is as twisted as it's ever been. He gives up Jesse to the nazis because, Walt being Walt, is always looking for someone else to blame. So even at this late stage he's still capable of going full Heisenberg, devastating Jesse and us with the confession we've waited years to hear while endlessly speculating how it would come out. We came close to hearing him come clean in "Fly" and now he actually does, albeit under far different circumstances and with far worse motives.

Hank's final moments in Ep. 5.14 ("Ozymandias")

"I Watched Jane Die" is less a confession than a weapon to finally suck Jesse of whatever hope he has left, but there's a reason Gilligan saved this reveal for so late in the game. For many that event represented the turning point. The moment Walter White officially broke bad. Their tenuous friendship is officially done and broken beyond all repair. Everyone hoping Jesse Pinkman makes it through this alive have never been pulling as hard for that as in the final three episodes, where chained up and cooking for the Todd and the nazis, he's barely holding on by a thread.

If there's yet another moment we've been absolutely dreading, it's Walt Jr. eventually finding out the truth about his father. And when it comes, it's about ten times more devastating than we could have even imagined. You may as well call it "Nightmare on Negra Arroyo Lane," as someone has to "protect this family from the man who protects this family." That someone turns out to be Walt Jr. and it's great to see RJ Mitte given a hugely emotional scene that requires him to do much more than eat and obsess over breakfast. Interestingly enough, Gilligan chooses not to show the scene where he's actually told about his dad just as he chose not to reveal Jesse's confession video in its entirety or show Hank telling Gomie about his Heisenberg revelation. And why should he? We know what Walt did and any further explanation of it would be repetition at a crucial time where every last minute of the series' running time is precious. The pacing is masterful.

 Walt Jr. Fynn protecting his mother while calling the cops on his own knife-wielding father is difficult to watch, yet amazingly satisfying at the same time, with RJ Mitte nailing his biggest acting challenge of the series as he goes through the different stages of grief right before our eyes. He's right that Skyler knowing makes her just as bad, but it's the fact that he had something to do with Hank's death that shifts his allegiances and even snaps her out from under his control. In many ways, Hank was the father to Flynn that Walt never was because he was too busy parenting Jesse. It's fitting that the episode starts with flashback to Walt and Jesse's days cooking in the RV and the very first lie he told Skyler during simpler times. It seems like an eternity has passed since, but now she's finally had enough, even if it's clearly too late.

A blood stained Skyler watches Walt flee in Ep. 5.14 ("Ozymandias")

With his family now destroyed and broke, Walt's lost the very thing he claims to have been doing this for the entire time.  And ironically, in kidnapping (and eventually returning) baby Holly he's not only taken the only family member left who doesn't hate him, but is spurned to commit his first selfless act in seasons with a phone call to Skyler that attempts to exonerate her in the eyes of law enforcement. The plan itself may not exactly work, but the scene does on a number of meta levels, with Cranston giving (like the confession) another performance within a performance, while Gilligan simultaneously calls viewers out on their shaming of Skyler White and the actress who's played her so mastefully for the past six years. No, Skyler isn't likable and was never really supposed to be but "blaming" the Anna Gunn for it isn't fair, especially considering a role this complex has only served to make the series better, and few actresses could have tackled it as interestingly or as well.

With a barrel of cash and a couple of suitcases, Walt's off to start a new life in the "Granite State" as "Mr. Lambert," waiting on the side of the road for the ride from Saul's disappearer/vacuum repairman (a perfectly cast Robert Forster, oozing honest professionalism) that Jesse never took. It speaks volumes that Saul isn't far behind, shedding his own flamboyant persona in the wake of the fallout, forced to start a new life of his own. As predicted, the Heisenberg story goes national and Walt's a wanted man, but what's perhaps more surprising is just how much the cancer's progressed. He's reached the end, receiving homemade chemo treatments and waiting to die a slow, painful death hauled up in a cold, isolated hell reminiscent of Jack Torrance's in The Shining. Saul's advice to just turn himself in and the reasoning behind it is the soundest of the season and a healthy reminder that for all his bluster, he's a smart attorney. Walt's

This is rock bottom, his lowest point coming when he has to bribe the disappearer with $10,000 to stay just an hour longer for company. His escape and subsequent phone call to Walt Jr. is the final straw, a desperate attempt to get his family the money, despite the tactic being impossible at this point. When his own son tells him to just die and he collapses in tears at a bar pay phone, we almost feel the impossible. If not necessarily sympathy, at least real empathy, for man swallowed up by his own demons and finally realizing this past year and a half has been a huge mistake. And yet he deserves every bit of this. It's time he could have spent with his family, who are now in a far worse position than they would have been otherwise. That's the real tragedy here.

Walt contemplates an escape in Ep. 5.15 ("Granite State")

Just when we think he's ready to finally do the right thing for once and turn himself in, the precipitating event that set off the series and created Heisenberg returns to rear its ugly head: Gray Matter. Seeing Elliot Adam Godley) and Gretchen Schwartz (Jessica Hecht) on Charlie Rose dismissing Walt's contributions to the company he co-founded is once again the trigger. "He used to be such a nice, sweet guy." "We don't know what happened." Those sickening words reverberate in his head.. And now, as the familiar strains of David Porter's main title theme play within the show for the first time, police descend on a New Hampshire bar only minutes too late. Walt's heading home to take care of some unfinished business.

It's suddenly become easier to envision the scenario that's been hinted at since the flashforward starting the season last year when a bearded, pill popping Mr. Lambert walked into Denny's for a bacon breakfast and to meet Jim Beaver's arms dealer. He's coming back a man with literally nothing to lose. Now we know why. And just when things couldn't possibly get worse for Jesse, they somehow do. In one of the show's cruelest moments, Todd makes him watch as he shoots Andrea (Emily Rios) just to send a message. Because he can.

Could Vince Gilligan stick the landing? Fair or not, a landmark series is often retroactively judged by the worth of its final episode and sometimes even its final moment. With BrBa, where a single, finite story is being told with a clear beginning, middle and end, judging the merits of the final episode within the context of the entire series becomes a little trickier. But if there's one thing "Felina" makes perfectly clear, it's that Gilligan's always been a master at tight, economical storytelling that leaves little room for loose ends. This wouldn't be one of those polarizing finales everyone argues about. The screen won't fade to back. It doesn't take place inside a snow globe. Gilligan knows HIS show, executing its end game just as he did everything else. With logic. True to form, everything is tidily wrapped up with few questions left unanswered and a conclusive finish that isn't open for interpretation. It's clean, crisp and efficient. In wasting no time getting Walt to Albuerquerque, he dispenses with information we've already gotten, sometimes condensing hours into minutes to clue us in.

Walt gives Elliot and Gretchen a scare in the series finale ("Felina")

Walt's at death's door and looks it, but for the first time in the history of the series he seems completely prepared, relaxed and sure of his plan. The biggest question looming over the finale was whether he would return to set things right as Walter White or Heisenberg. It turns out that he's reached that point where they can finally co-exist in harmony. It was Walt who came up with the plan to use Elliot and Gretchen to believably launder the millions that will eventually go to his offspring, but Heisenberg who carried it out. The guilt and fear on their faces suggest that maybe they did badly screw Walt. Or maybe not. We'll never know, but Gilligan was smart in not telling us more than that, as it's the one story thread that feels like it should still have some mystery surrounding it. It also felt right to give Badger (Matt Jones) and Skinny Pete (Charles Baker) a spot in the finale since they're not only entertaining supporting characters played by two actors who deserve to be there, but incorporated into events in a surprisingly clever fashion as Walt's laser-pointing "hitmen."

Walt's plan to take out Jack's gang sees him underestimated in a way he hasn't been since he tangled with Gus and had to use his resourcefulness as a weapon. Spending most of the episode looking like a homeless ghost roaming his old stomping grounds, it turned out that no one underestimated as much as Lydia, who got a ricin cocktail for her troubles. His final scenes with Skyler that pack the biggest emotional punch and delivered the admission we've waited six years to hear. By finally admitting he did this all for himself rather than his family, Walt finally drops the lies and takes the ownership for the lives he's ruined. It's ironic that in this moment, he comes off as the most likable and human we've seen him since the pilot. At least by this series' standards.

Walt's first and foremost a man of science, and this episode sees a return to that in a clever way as his master plan is carried with all the accuracy of one of his chemistry experiments. He uses predictable factors to exploit the weaknesses of his opponents. Elliot and Gretchen's social and financial status. Lydia's obsession with routine. Jack's pride. And for once everything goes off without a hitch. That his car trunk Nazi killing machine feels like something Season 1 Walt would have imagined up is only fitting. His final act of self-sacrifice is taking a bullet for Jesse, even if it's a stretch to call what happens between them a reconciliation. It's more of a hostile, begrudging acceptance that they're finally squared away. Their nod at the end was a nice touch. Jesse was never going kill Walt. He's through doing what "Mr. White" says. The cathartic release when he strangles Todd and makes his escape works because the writers worked six years and dragged him through hell so he could get there. How many other shows would have the patience to wait? Where an undeniably scarred Jesse can go from here is anyone's guess, and there's sure to be plenty of guesses. But for once, we do get the feeling he's free and at least has a shot at some kind of normal life.

Walt, alone with his "Baby Blue" in the series finale ("Felina")

If Jesse gets to bask in his freedom, than Walt's ending is just as appropriate as he spends his final moments alone amidst his precious equipment, admiring what's left of his creation and all he's accomplished. And in a series filled with unforgettable musical moments, one of the best is saved for last as Badfinger's 1971  power-pop classic "Baby Blue" blasts over the soundtrack as Walt draws his last breath. His checklist is complete. And now we know what Gilligan was talking about when he called the finale a dark "victory" for TV's most complex anti-hero. It's hard to look at it as anything else. For good or bad, he got exactly the ending he deserved. And so did we. Though it's unlikely anyone will want to acknowledge it, it's interesting how similar the closing image is to that of Lost's finale, despite this image invoking an entirely different feeling in viewers when it reaches its finish line.

Yes, the ending was tied neatly in a bow with hardly a minute to spare. It was safely effective, while still not entirely predictable. But here's the thing. We're not used to finales doing that. We're not used to shows building up enough goodwill over the course of its run to earn the right not to show off in the finale. Confident enough to not do anything shocking or crazy. To just simply close its story as it should be closed. There are no more episodes or more obstacles or complications for Walt to face. Much of that was done before, as the seeds were already long sown for Gilligan to just quietly pull the trigger in the last episode. "Felina" stands as the end result of him knowing exactly when to step on the gas and put on the brakes throughout the series, giving himself enough slack in the story so it would peak at exactly the right time.

Any worries this finale would either break or make the show's reputation were completely unfounded, as it exists simply as it should: As the last chapter. And, in a way, that's such a relief. Did things work out too perfectly for Walt? Not when you consider hardly anything went right for him up until that point. More specifically in these final eight, and even more specifically in the penultimate and bravely depressing "Granite State." An argument can be made that the true finale was the pulse-pounding "Ozymandias," with the final two episodes serving as an essential, but no less compelling post-script. And it's hard to call what Walt experiences in his last hours "redemption" or a "happy ending," at least in any conventional sense. His family is irrecovably broken. His brother-in-law is dead. Countless other lives have been lost or destroyed. His son, no matter how much money he comes into, will always hate him. To say his initial plan hardly worked out as envisioned would be a massive understatement. What he gets instead is a dignity afforded to very few on the show: Dying on his own terms. It's such a fine line Gilligan walks in giving Walt the ending he deserves while still not morally letting him off the hook for any of his actions. And he gets it just right   

Walter White dies in the final shot of Breaking Bad

It seems there's always a tendency when we're in the midst of watching something to label it the "greatest ever," but what happens when it actually is? Name a series that can compete with this in terms of writing, directing, acting, or cinematography. What show has even had five consistent seasons, much less five consecutively flawless ones? It seems even unlikelier to come across two performances as complex and endlessly fascinating as the ones given by Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul in any medium. And while it's certainly been show filled with carefully choreographed creative moves, there have also been more than a few happy accidents that morphed this into something far different and than when it started. And yet entirely similar. The core remained the same. Turn Mr. Chips into Scarface. Just that simple logline proved to be the jumping off point for what would eventually be the show no one knew they were waiting for until it actually arrived. Created by an X-Files writer and starring the dad from Malcolm in the Middle. Who would have guessed? One tightly told story from beginning to end. No filler. Vince Gilligan just pitched TV's first perfect game and most of it was laid out for us in the pilot when a nerdy, unassuming high school teacher named Walter White spoke to his class. It was always all about the chemistry. The study of change. 
                                                           

Breaking Bad: Season 5 (Part I)

Creator: Vince Gilligan
Starring: Bryan Cranston, Aaron Paul, Anna Gunn, Dean Norris, Betsy Brandt, RJ Mitte, Bob Odenkirk, Jonathan Banks, Jesse Plemons, Laura Fraser
Air Date: 2012

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

   **Spoiler Warning: This review contains spoilers for all the seasons of 'Breaking Bad'**

 "I won."

Those were the chilling words delivered by Walter White (Bryan Cranston) at the end of Breaking Bad's fourth season finale after he successfully orchestrated the murder of drug kingpin Gustavo Fring (Giancarlo Esposito). But the victory didn't come without collateral damage. After poisoning a 10-year-old boy to manipulate Jesse (Aaron Paul) back to his side, it became clear Walt was now three quarters of the way toward completing the infamous "Mr. Chips to Scarface" evolution creator Vince Gilligan has frequently referred to. It's something that's never been done in the history of the television: Take a show's protagonist and slowly morph him over the course of five years into its antagonist. How much longer can anyone root for this guy? How many people can he use, lie to or put in danger? How many bodies can pile up? And what does it say about viewers that keep looking for as many reasons as he does to justify it? That's the moral ambiguity of Breaking Bad, which could have reasonably ended its run last year with no one complaining it didn't go out with a bang. Going 16 more episodes is risky, but completely necessary when you consider what sets this series apart from any drama that's ever been on TV is that it is actually telling one continuous story with a beginning, middle and end.

Walter White at Denny's on his 52nd Birthday (Ep. 5.01,"Live Free or Die")

The decision to split this final season, airing the first 8 episodes this year and making viewers wait until summer 2013 for the last batch is has definitely caused some controversy. I'm still not sure what number to refer to this season as and no one else seems to be either. For a show known for it's pacing, it seems like a game-changer, but really it isn't. It was clear pretty early that Gilligan would be treating this like he would a regular season with the only difference being we'd have to wait an entire excruciating year to see the series conclude. It was always going to be a slow burn, with the first half set-up and the second half pay-off. Walt's rise to power followed by his fall. I was fine with the wait and even all the business-related focus (more than any other season) just as long as everything was written to accommodate the final stretch and the mid-season finale left me in a state of unbearable suspense. While the first question might still be up in the air until the show concludes, the latter isn't. This delivered. A helpless Walt scrambling and up against the ropes has consistently resulted in the show's most memorable moments. Overmatched, he's always had to rely on his ingenuity to somehow pull through and outsmart his adversaries. These 8 episodes tweak that formula, being the only season since the third to hit the re-set button. He's now in control, but that's just the calm before the storm. He'll be scrambling again soon.  

With his cancer now in remission and finaly able to provide for his family it only makes sense Walt would just cash in his chips and get out of the meth business while he still can. But of course he can't. He's Walter White and his pride won't allow it. We saw it when he quit the car wash in the first season. We saw it when he's refused to admit Jesse could be as good at something as him. And we've even seen it when he forced his son Walt Jr (RJ Mitte) to drink himself sick in Season 2. It's his pride that wouldn't allow him to take the money from his former business associates for his cancer treatment. His decision to years ago cash out of Gray Matter plays an important role this season, if not literally, then at least as an underlying motivation. In fact, that pre-series decision could be considered the very moment he "broke bad." Him giving up billions of dollars out of spite and pride has been the driving engine of the entire show. In his mind, it's the decision that caused him to become a high school chemistry teacher and part-time car wash employee who never reached his full potential. This season we finally get that confession out of him, but in typical Walt fashion, the moment of truth accidentally arrives as he's trying to manipulate someone close to him. Enough will never be enough  to erase that decision, so it makes sense that when he does finally succeed at something and reaches the top of the mountain, the power goes straight to his head.

Walt and Walt Jr.'s new set of sports cars (Ep. 5.03,"Fifty-One")

Drunk on his own hubris, Walt no longer wears the pork-pie hat and Heisenberg sunglasses as a disguise. It's his uniform. For business. He is Heisenberg. He thinks killing Gus Fring has transformed him into Gus Fring. In a chilling touch, he even starts sitting and dressing like him. He trades in his avocado green Aztek for a new Chrysler 300 more befitting of a drug lord. Forget about becoming Scarface, now he's even literally watching it with his children for inspiration. The legendary "I am the one who knocks" speech he gave wife Skyler (Anna Gunn) last season was delivered by a scared, desperate man who needed to pathetically psyche himself for his final confrontation with Gus. This season Walt really becomes "The Danger" instead of just talking about it. Or does he? Often, when you get too comfortable you get cocky and then you get sloppy. His downfall is immanent and in the most shocking TV flash-forward since Jack told Kate "we have to go back," we get a glimpse of it in the premiere's cold open as a bearded, desperate looking, pill popping Walter White (under an assumed identity) is in a Denny's on his 52nd birthday, purchasing some heavy artillery from firearms dealer Jim Beaver and presumably preparing for a huge confrontation (with Hank? the DEA? the Cartel? Jesse?). So we know he survives at least another year, with or without cancer. He's clearly without a wedding ring, which can't bode well for Skyler. It's also clear that Gilligan will have to do a lot of finagling with time to get to that point without it feeling rushed considering all four seasons of this show have only spanned a year in these characters' lives and now he has to jam another entire year into only 16 episodes. For this show that's an enternity. My guess: That was a peek at the series finale and Walt's taking his machine gun back to the Albuquerque desert, ending this show where it started. 

Through all this we somehow still hold out for Walt's redemption despite him seemingly being past the point of no return because Cranston still let's us see that nervous sad sack who just seems to be play acting to make himself feel in control. Gilligan knows there isn't a single viewer who can't relate to not living up to their full potential and isn't afraid of rubbing our noses in it. He also knows there are many viewers that can name the exact point Walter White officially lost them and ceased being a character that can be rooted for. And for just as many that point hasn't arrived. The fact that there are still some that can attempt to explain away Walt's actions is hilarious when you consider he's basically a domestic terrorist who at this point has murdered as many people as Dexter. The show never makes excuses for him, but you completely, against all your better judgment, understand how it's gone so far and why he can't allow himself to just "get out."

Walt, Jesse and their new apprentice Todd (Ep. 5.05,"Dead Freight")

Much of the season centers on getting the business up and running again in the wake of Gus' death and tying up all the loose ends connected with it. One of them is Madrigal Electromotive the German conglomerate that owned Gus' fast food franchise/drug ring. He may be gone, but his demise leaves a trail conspirators long enough to tie Walt and Jesse to his operation. The biggest player is high-strung Madrigal executive Lydia Rodarte-Quayle (Laura Fraser), who's nervous unpredictability in the face of the ongoing DEA investigation in Gus' murder presents a major major hurdle for Walt in re-opening shop. Even as the season closes, she's remains a character with a question mark constantly hanging over her purpose and intentions. That alone makes her a player, even as many of her worrisome tics and habits are darkly comical. The newest addition to the team is ambitious youngster Todd (Jesse Plemons), whose apparent willingness to learn leads to a more prominent role in Walt's newest "hiding in plain sight" cooking enterprise. But there's more to him than meets the eye and anyone familiar with Plemons' history as Landry on Friday Night Lights will get a kick out of the fact that Gilligan had the guts to write the one storyline for him you'd figure would be off limits.

The biggest loose end left over from Gus' reign was lying in a hospital bed in Mexico when Season 4 ended. Whatever arguments there are about the quality of this season, the one thing that everyone can agree on is that its MVP was Jonathan Banks, who as Gus' former hitman and fixer Mike Ehrmantraut, takes on an enormously increased role. Now, without a boss or a job, he's basically forced against his better judgment to join Walt's burgeoning organization for financial reasons. As the only real professional criminal of the series left, Mike sees Walt for what he is: A fraud. He knew Gus and Walt's no Gus. And he isn't afraid to tell him, accompanied by Banks' exasperated, world weary look of resignation.  Mike's the one element Heisenberg can't control because, like Jesse, he actually operates by his own moral code, at least by Breaking Bad standards. You could argue that's eventually the cause of his undoing. Usually cautious and a complete pro, the Mike who gave Walt the speech in Season 3 about no "Half -Measures" starts taking them and getting sloppy, ignoring his own advice. It's been a source of criticism this season, but the impression I got was that Mike just had enough. With Walt's brother-in-law Hank (Dean Norris) closing in and his love for his granddaughter trumping any desire he has to keep doing this, it makes sense that he just didn't care anymore. He wanted out. Banks makes it make sense, and it's a given he'll be submitting the episode "Say My Name" to occupy the same supporting actor Emmy slot Giancarlo Esposito vacates after this year.

Skyler at the bottom of the White pool (Ep. 5.04,"Fifty-One")

Anna Gunn delivers what's easily her best work so far in the series by making Skyler sympathetic to even her harshest detractors. Held hostage in her own home by her husband, she's reaches her breaking point and proves she'll do anything to keep her kids safe from their father. After appearing to "break bad" herself last season by laundering Walt's money through the car wash, it's now dawning on her that the man she married isn't just a drug kingpin, but a murderer and emotionally abusive husband who uses fear and intimidation as a weapon. The hollow excuse that he's still doing all this "for family" is accompanied by him creepily groping her in bed, which is a clever callback to the closing minutes of the pilot episode. When she tells him her only hope for their family's escape is to wait..."For The Cancer To Come Back"...it's the season's most stinging line, but also its most accurate. That's what started Walt on this destructive path, so it only makes sense to her that it should end it. And it just might. In a shocking moment during Walt's 51st birthday celebration Skyler proves there's no lengths she won't go to insure her kids are safe and in the process earns the character a respect she never previously had. As good a manipulator as her husband is, she starts to prove herself as one of his more formidable opponents. 

Both Skyler and Jesse have turned into pawns in Walt's manipulative game, but his relationship with the latter is arguably more tragic since it's built on a house of lies. All Jessie's wanted from the beginning is the approval of "Mr. White." It's the recognition he didn't get or deserve when he was in his high school chemistry class, but did deserve from his parents who failed to supply it. When he gives him a birthday gift it's a token of friendship stemming from genuine respect and admiration, but to Walt it's a trophy he uses to flaunt the dominance of Heisenberg in his wife's face. The two most important people in his life are both prisoners in the same cell so it's only fitting that this season sees Skyler and Jesse sharing the screen together for only the second time in the show's history and the first time in over four years.Think about the level of writing required to make that believably happen and then let it sink in. And sure enough the dinner scene is worth the wait as and so surreal it almost feels like we're watching a cross-over from another show. And now Skyler finally gets to see just how long her husband's been at this and lying to her. Her interaction with Jesse is far different this time around as they seem to have an unspoken bond in realizing the man they knew is gone, and replaced by a monster.

An awkward dinner at the White residence (Ep. 5.06, "Buyout")

As much as Mike wants out because he's tired and done, Jesse's just as done, but for entirely different reasons. He's matured into someone who actually has a future and doesn't need it anymore, essentially reversing roles with his mentor who's now living off it like a blood-sucking leech. What's sadly ironic is that Jesse might be Walt's only true success story, even if it's under the most unfortunate circumstances imaginable. His tutelage of him is enough to make you wonder if teaching really could have been his true calling, if only his pride and bitterness hadn't gotten in the way. The cancer diagnosis caused Walt to take risks he wouldn't have ever attempted otherwise and this season he frequently seems cool and comfortable in his own skin, finally commanding the respect he never previously received. But the price was steep. The questions remains whether Jesse will uncover all of Walt's betrayals and lies (Jane's death, Brock's poisoning), and what he'll do when he finds out. He adds even more depraved acts to the list this season, including a violent, ego-triggered decision sure to rip Jesse apart if he knew.

As the moral center of the show, the question isn't whether Jesse can forgive his mentor, but himself, as much of last season demonstrated. And as Walt proves, he isn't afraid of throwing Jessie's guilt in his face to get what he wants.  In a series where everyone reaps what they sow, Jesse's survival in the final stretch will likely depend on whether he can come to terms with everything he's done. More and more, it seems as if his murder of lab assistant Gale Boetticher at the end of Season 3 was the defining event for not just Jesse, but the series as a whole, as the finale's conclusion reminds us. Aaron Paul was on the bench more often than usual in what was clearly a Heisenberg-centric half-season with a large helping of Skyler and Mike. That should change soon but Paul was again superb in what he was given, emotionally mapping Jesse's transformation into the brains of the operation. Initially clueless in the series' early going he now frequently comes up with the best ideas in a heist-filled season of stunts that play as a cross between Mythbusters and MacGyver, complete with a tensely choreographed train robbery. Many of the season's cold opens are business-related as well, whether that be disposing of evidence or bodies or dealing with the ins and outs of re-launching the meth manufacturing enterprise. It's obvious by the finale that the days of dealing with business just might be over for good which could hopefully to more character focused flashbacks or flashforwards. Gilligan doesn't use these devices often so that when he does (like the mysterious pink teddy bear in Season 2 or the recent Denny's shocker), you know it's signaling something monumentally important. That said, I still say the ultimate cold open would be a flashback to Mr. White teaching Jesse in high school. It feels like we need to see that, and somewhere within the final 8 episodes (if not the series finale itself) would seem to be the perfect place for it.

Mike Ehrmantraut's final moments (Ep. 5.07,"Say My Name")

Director of photography Michael Slovis outdoes himself again this year, continuing to bring a visual richness to the show that's not only unmatched in the medium of television, but could topple most of what's on the big screen. Looper director Rian Johnson (previously responsible for Season 3's classic stand alone "Fly") returns to helm "Fifty-One," another gem that joins "Dead Freight" "Say My Name" and the mid-season finale, "Gliding Over All," as four of the most visually arresting hours of episodic drama you can see. In a show known for its expert use of musical montages, this season contains its best, including a use of a classic song in the finale that so perfectly fits the show you'd think Gilligan was sitting on it for the past four years waiting for just the right time to unveil it. He picked right. It's lonely at the top and now that Walt's there the interesting possibility is introduced that it wasn't what he thought it would be. How much money does he need? Will it ever be enough? Being the boss is a grind that comes with its own set of responsibilities and as the mid-season closes it's clear the show is gearing up for its inevitable showdown: Walt vs. Hank.

Of all the show's brilliant coups, it's most brilliant has been realistically keeping Walt's brother-in-law off his trail for this long. Hank's extremely intelligent, yet we believe he wouldn't suspect him for a second. Why would he? To him, Walt's still that nerdy, cancer-stricken science teacher from a year ago emasculated in his own marriage. He's also covered his tracks really well and is just too damn smart. So smart that the only reasonable way Hank could have suspected a thing was by accident. That's why the final heart-pounding seconds of this year's finale makes so much sense. Walt became too comfortable and with that we briefly see the return of the bumbling fool from Season 1 who made a pros and cons list debating whether to kill Krazy-8. Mike Ehrmantraut's murder is the most senseless yet because it's the sloppy work of a petulant baby throwing a tantrum, but it also gives us our first hint that his Heisenberg persona may dying also.Walt's had enough, but it's too late. In the show's sole moment of normalcy and peace since the pilot, he's found out.Like Paul, the great Dean Norris has been sidelined during much of Walt's empire building, but expect him to step up in a big way very soon. Second that for Bob Odenkirk as sleazy lawyer Saul Goodman, who will likely become more important as Hank continues to put the rest of the pieces together quickly and close in on Walt. There's also Hank's entire DEA career to think about, especially considering it was Walt's drug money that paid all his medical bills. Heisenberg has been his Moby Dick so it'll be interesting to see how he acts on the devastating revelation that the personal and professional upheaval he's experienced over the past year have been intrinsically linked, with its catalyst right under his nose the entire time.

Hank's shocking discovery (Ep. 5.08,"Gliding Over All")

No dramatic series has remained this strong so late in the game, and given how sensational last season was, this stretch of episodes presented the biggest writing challenge yet. Everyone was waiting to see how Gilligan could possibly follow Gus' death and fill the void Esposito was leaving. The answer ended up being having Walt replace him, if only in his own mind.  Leading the charge is Cranston's titanic turn, which is pitiful and frightening at the same time. It's astonishing to think back on his work early in the series' run compared to now and consider the dramatic "Cransformation" he pulls off. You couldn't imagine other actor being able to doing it. And yet, because of him, as dark as this season is, it's also by far its funniest. There's a certain comic thrill that comes from watching this character so completely own for the first time and if you thought his "Danger" speech from last season was quotable, than this season features more T-shirt ready catchphrases ("Because I Said So," "Nothing Stops This Train," "Say My Name," "Goddamn right," ) than you'd even know what to do with.

It's unusual even trying assess these most recent episodes yet because it does feel like half a season that will better come in to view when it's all over. But it's clear there's absolutely no drop-off in the quality of writing, acting or directing, and that's coming from someone who had to make the shift from binge viewing on Netflix to watching on a weekly basis. Absolutely nothing was lost in that transition. 8 down. 8 more to go. Thankfully, fans don't decide how TV shows end. They just complain about it. I hesitate even using something like Lost, or any other drama, as a comparison point since Breaking Bad plays in its own league and has never suffered what anyone could call a creative lull. A graph charting its quality would be a straight line running across the page. One story told perfectly. There's more at stake in how this wraps than any other show in recent memory. Fair or not, the right to be called the television's greatest achievement doesn't rest on what occurred in the preceding 54 episodes or even the next eight. It'll rest on whatever happens last. And for once, it seems as if we've found a series capable of handling that pressure.