“I don’t watch television, but I hear Breaking Bad is very good.” So goes a line from Toast of London (sixth most popular post on this
blog, incidentally) that
has stuck with me even more than shouting out “Ray bloody Purchase” whenever I
feel like it. For me, though, only half of
it has ever been true. I do watch
TV. In fact, I’ve watched enough to
churn out 200 posts about 200 different programmes over the last few
years. But I have spent my recent life
hearing that Breaking Bad is very good.
People have asked me over and over again if I have watched it and, until
now, I’ve had to say no. So, I thought,
with the 200th post spectacular coming up, what better boxset to go
out on? I sat through all five seasons
on Netflix. I had heard Breaking Bad is very good, but I didn’t
like it all.
While I brace myself for onslaught of abuse this revelation will earn me, let’s go back to the beginning so I can justify myself in the order my thoughts occurred to me. Years back, when Breaking Bad was all the rage, I pursued my characteristic route of ignoring whatever everyone else was focusing on. Like The Sopranos and The Wire, I was determined to reach this big American boxset in my own time. What’s more, its premise never really appealed. I’ve talked previously about my lack of interest in drug dealing as a concept, though I have made numerous exceptions by covering shows about the business here, from Narcos to Top Boy. But this was drug dealing, chemistry and cancer, polar opposites to my preferred themes of the apocalypse, zombies and high schools.
Bravely, though, a few months back I clicked play on episode
one, series one, ignoring all the other things in my Netflix menu I would
rather have been getting on with (including hipster haircut festival, The Last Kingdom). In those early days, I was fully under the
impression that I had, following many recommendations, finally uncovered the
perfection others rave about. The
set-up, while unappealing on paper, was masterful in establishing tension and
storylines. For a while, I wondered if
anyone would ever better it. The grittiness,
while still slightly Hollywood-esque in the Arizona sunshine, showed an
unglamorous flipside to American life.
Here, Walter White struggles to make ends meet as an undervalued high school
chemistry teacher (and part-time car wash attendant) while his heavily pregnant
wife supplements their income with online auction sales of tat and their disabled
son comes of age. He’s about to find out
it’s not so easy being diagnosed with terminal cancer. Using his chemistry skills, he comes up with
the idea of cooking crystal meth with a perfect recipe, making sure he’ll leave
his family well provided for. There’s a
slight setback in that his brother-in-law is a DEA agent, but he’s not too
sharp so we’ll save for that for a later series.
The drama is at its best when White, propelled by his
expiring mortality, steps out of his family-man responsibilities into a world
of dangerous risk-taking. He takes on hardened
criminals while driving a sensible car and calling home to apologise for being
late for his tea. He’s unhinged,
unbridled and out of control, yet it’s all coming from a place of love – he just
can’t tell his wife why he’s being suspicious.
The geek in me also enjoyed the science, while the marketeer appreciated
the top-notch product he launches. But,
we must acknowledge Jesse Pinkman as the crucial key that connects his criminal
and domestic lives. This former student
and current loser becomes White’s business partner. Where White brings scientific knowledge and exceptional
problem-solving, Pinkman brings chaos and incompetence. His endless messing up irritated me more and
more with each episode. Occasionally, a
spectacular twist would mean that their fractious relationship would be laid
bare, with one needing the other before a reversal at a future fracas, but their
main mode of operation was just white men shouting at each other. It got tired.
Plus, Aaron Paul
is a beloved voice from Bojack Horseman, so
all I could ever hear during his whining was lovely asexual Todd.
Each season, our novice cook-dealers take on a different
baddie to control the Phoenix meth trade.
Huge personal sacrifices oddly never fail to dissuade White from cooking
again. Their running of their business
lurches from problem to problem, yet I just wanted to know more about Skylar or
Walter Junior. And if they weren’t
around, I would find myself preoccupied by the inhabitants of the various crack
dens where White would go looking for Pinkman.
The human cost of their drug baking only ever looms as a backdrop for
their own dramas, with addicts given as much backstory as the walkers in The Walking Dead. I can accept the customers are never the
focus of Breaking Bad, but I can wonder if their development would have lent
greater richness. Pinkman’s addictions
come and go and never really feel true.
Back to the brother-in-law.
Schrader begins as an uncouth bigot, beloved by his nephew, but a bit of
a gaffman. His out-of-dateness
eventually elicits sympathy, even while he misses staggering clues about the
origins of White’s prosperity. I found myself
rooting for him as he started to put two and two together. But don’t worry about that cat-and-mouse situation
concluding too quicky, as constant car crashes serve to derail things whenever
convenient. Thus, we go round in circles. Everyone falls out, makes up, ends up in hospital,
the cancers seems occasional, White’s reasons to cook become reasons never to
do it again. Everyone is unhappy,
everyone is shouting, shocking violence interrupts arguments just before they
burn out. By this point, Breaking Bad
had become a background show for me. I didn’t
care. Episodes would play on while I
cooked (lasagne rather than meth) or baked or cleaned. I missed a key death while vacuuming. Some instalments even have the highest IMDB
ratings out there for single TV episodes, but I just wanted it all to be
over. I’m not really sure how it all
ends, but I’m not arsed either.
And so, it’s with slight regret that Just One More Episode bows
out after 200 posts on something that didn’t quite cut the mustard for me. I’ll admit I might have felt biased given the
hype it could never have lived up to, but it began well and I paid real attention.
However it was liberating to realise I
hated it and it’s been enjoyable to dismiss it here. Let’s get things in perspective: nobody cares
what I think and I’m not looking to persuade fans. A few friends I’ve mentioned my conclusion to
have agreed they found the show overrated or admitted to failing to finish it. Breaking Bad has had huge cultural influence
and blazed the trail for the boxset to take centre stage in our hearts, with
quality TV supplanting sloppy blockbusters.
I can appreciate it for what it is, but I’m glad it’s over. You might feel the same way about this
blog. My evenings can now be spent indulging
in newly discovered masterpieces like Babylon Berlin (watch this
immediately) or looking forward to the return of trash like Elite and Love
Island, but take comfort in the fact I won’t be banging on here anymore
about my unasked-for opinions about them.
