Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts

Sunday, August 23, 2015

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.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Orange is the New Black (Season 2)



Creator: Jenji Kohan
Starring: Taylor Schilling, Michael J. Harney, Kate Mulgrew, Jason Biggs, Uzo Aduba, Danielle Brooks, Natasha Lyonne, Taryn Manning, Yael Stone, Samira Wiley, Dascha Polanco, Adrienne C. Moore, Nick Sandow, Lorraine Toussaint, Laura Prepon, Pablo Schreiber, Matt McGorry, Alysia Reiner, Kimiko Glenn
Original Airdate: 2014

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

With its second season, Netflix's most successful foray into original programming, Orange is the New Black, breaks through into the upper echelon of great TV drama. Or is that comedy? Probably a bit of both, but genre confusion aside, there's so much to appreciate about their first four-star season, it's hard to know where to start. Showrunner Jenji Kohan takes a big risk in taking the focus off the series' protagonist and turning it on its wild cast of supporting characters we'd only just gotten to know a season earlier. That's a creative gamble when you already have a strong protagonist whose story we were so invested in, and still are. Only now, everything doesn't always revolve around her,  which is an irony considering how she seems to think it always does.

This season is really centered around a villain that shakes up the series in a major way, even if calling her a "villain" seems too constricting a term, failing to do justice to the character's complexity in both writing and performance. She brings a sense of legitimate danger and mayhem that was strangely somewhat lacking in a series set in a women's penitentiary, even one that's part-comedy. That a second season this strong is delivered after a somewhat shaky premiere makes it all the more satisfying when it all comes together in the end.

Piper takes an uncomfortable flight
Everything seems more purposeful this time around, as the writers brilliantly maneuver around the absence of a major series regular, invisibly weaving it into the narrative to the point that you hardly notice she's gone. The prison politics deeply delved into, with the guards and administrators motivations more fully fleshed out.  And with few exceptions, the flashbacks are also more meaningful, carrying greater impact on present events and giving us more insight into the characters, a couple of which pay off in surprising ways. The episodes just keep gathering steam until the last, which puts the perfect exclamation point on a season where we view every character differently than when it began. Despite some concerns at the beginning, there's no sophomore slump here.

In last season's shocking cliffhanger, we saw newbie Litchfield inmate Piper Chapman (Taylor Schilling) deliver a brutal beating to mentally unhinged religious zealot Tiffany "Pennsatucky" Doggett (Taryn Manning) as Counselor Sam Healy (Michael J. Harney) did nothing. As this season begins, there's a lot less fallout from that event than you'd expect, and while we do find out its outcome, the show moves on to other business fairly quickly, with Piper being transferred off the radar to a Chicago prison. It's there where the show attempts to wrap up her storyline with former lover Alex Vause (Laura Prepon), whose drug smuggling landed both in prison, where their reignited affair eventually destroyed Piper's relationship with her now ex-fiancee Larry (Jason Biggs).

In hindsight, it seems ridiculous that we all thought Prepon's departure as a series regular would be some kind of death knell for the show, since the only episode primarily focusing on that arc (as all of last season did) ends up being relatively the weakest of these thirteen. It's unfortunate that it happens to be the Jodie Foster-directed premiere (Ep. 2.1, "Thirsty Bird"), but at least it's out of the way early, and plays much, much better once you've seen the entire season. Needless to say, the Piper/Alex saga still feels far from done since Piper has proven herself to be an co-dependent addict when it comes to this woman, still allowing herself to be manipulated and lied to in order to gain her affection.

"40 OZ of Furlough"
The premiere is the most we get of Piper until she starts a prison newsletter (Ep. 2.7, "Comic Sans") and a family crisis affords her an opportunity to be granted furlough in an episode that examines the change she's undergone behind bars (Ep. 2.9, "40 OZ. of Furlough") and how it's affected her relationships on the outside. She's not the same entitled princess she went in as but the show cleverly posits the theory that this may not be such a great thing. Now she's the one being judged as a failure and there's no turning back or reversing the clock. She's a convict and everyone couldn't be more disappointed, including her own ashamed parents and her jilted, opportunistic ex-fiancee Larry who continues to use her incarceration as a vehicle to further his journalistic career. A strong argument can be made that he's the most selfish character on the show.

This new Piper and Larry very far apart and a development with Larry only serves to separate them even more, and finally giving viewers full permission to hate a guy who's been on a slippery slope since last season. That so many can't stand Biggs in this role is only a credit to just how well he's playing it. Neurotic and disingenuous at every turn, any fans the character may have had vanish by the end of the season. Piper also vanishes for much of the rest of the season too, but that Schilling is still impressive enough to never make the character seem sidelined is noteworthy in itself. In a welcome change, the show's biggest moments involve everyone else.

It's the arrival of drug dealing sociopath Vee Parker (Lorraine Toussaint), foster mother to Taystee (Danielle Brooks) and former nemesis of Red (Kate Mulgrew) that shakes things up at Litchfield. It wouldn't be inaccurate to say she takes over the entire season, making the series considerably darker, dangerous and more unpredictable as a result. She's even at the center of three (!) flashbacks fleshing out her backstory, marking the only time in the show a major flashback player suddenly shows up in the present.

"Crazy Eyes" finds a mother figure in Vee
How quickly Vee's able to exert power and control over all the inmates is terrifying, sucking them in like a mother figure before manipulating them to do her dirty work. The most vulnerable are those who don't have anyone, and since it's prison, that would be just about everyone. She runs the guilt trip over Taystee to bring her back into her fold and is even able to drag "Black Cindy" (Adrienne C. Moore) and Watson (Vicky Jeudy) along for the ride with empty promises and more deceit. She's evil, but also incredibly smart, which is a mix we're not used to seeing in this environment, giving her a definitive edge over everyone.

While the wedge Vee drives through Taystee's friendship with Poussey (Samira Wiley) is reprehensible enough, her absolute worst, most bottom of the barrel action is manipulating the mentally unstable "Crazy Eyes" (Uzo Abuda), who's willing to do just about anything to fit in and be loved. Vee casts such a large shadow over the season and Toussaint's work so quietly gripping that at points the series feels like it's channeling Oz or The Wire. And the intensity only keeps escalating to the level where you badly want to see this monster get hers, even if you know the show may suffer without her around. There's no way Toussaint isn't riding this chilling performance to an Emmy nomination next year, as she puts you on pins and needles waiting to see the depths her character sinks to next.

The long awaited backstory of "Crazy Eyes" is given time in Episode 2.3, "Hugs Can Be Deceiving"  and it doesn't disappoint, depicting events in her childhood already powerfully hinted at in Uzo Aduba's performance. Always a lonely outcast ridiculed and mocked, the flashback provides an greater context to her current situation with Vee, as well as revealing some surprising details about the struggles her well-meaning parents faced raising her. But the strongest flashback comes in what's possibly the season's best episode (2.6, "You Also Have Pizza"), as we learn the recent history of Samira Wiley's Poussey.

Poussey gets some awful news in a gripping flashback 
Whereas an argument can be made even the most surprising flashbacks flesh out details already hinted about these women, everything about Poussey's is revelatory, completely changing our perception of the character. I didn't expect her to have the upbringing she did, get caught in the dilemma she was, and her situation elicit nearly this much empathy.  It really stands out from the rest not only because of an extremely heated lesbian sex scene (maybe the first of the show's many that actually does feel necessary), but because of Wiley's heartbreaking performance, which insures she leaves this season one of the most beloved characters.

Another fan favorite, Red, struggles after the kitchen (and basically her whole prison identity) was taken from her by the Latinas last season. The return of Vee only causes more problems for her, and as we find out via flashbacks, their history is violent and complicated. New Jersey native Lorna Morello (Yael Stone) also gets one of this season's more revealing flashbacks, dispelling all myths that she's the most normal, well-adjusted inmate at Litchfield when we learn the details of exactly what she's in there for (Ep. 2.4, "A Whole Other Hole"). That this revelation hardly changes our opinion of Morello speaks to how likable Stone (now bumped from recurring to series regular) continues to make the character in the face of some really dark material.

Previously a background player, cancer patient Miss Rosa (Barabara Rosenblat) steps to the forefront as her history as a big time bank robber is unspooled as she currently receives treatment alongside a teen chemo patient in one of the more moving story arcs. At first, you wonder why the show's spending so much time on a bit player, until realizing: A) She's no longer a bit player B) It's a classic case of the writers knowing something we don't. The new face at Litchfield is hippieish inmate Brook Soso (Kimiko Glenn), who besides crying herself to sleep out of fear, not showering and generally annoying everyone, clumsily protests prison conditions with Sister Ingalls (Beth Fowler) in a storyline that dominates the back half of the season. It's clear she'll be around a while so it's a good bet her story will be explored further moving forward. That should be interesting considering that, of everyone, she seems the most out of place in a women's prison. She's practically the new Piper, only weaker and more irritating.

A low turnout for Healy's "Safe Place" support group.
This season pulls back the curtain on prison politics amongst the administration, starting with Counselor Healy, who last season went from inmate advocate to sexist, homophobic pig. The more we learned about him, the less there was to like, but he kind of finds some form of redemption in these episodes, starting a prison support group and becoming an unlikely mentor to Pennsatuckey. After years of feeling beat down by the system (and his mail order bride at home) he finally starts taking baby steps toward making a difference for the prisoners and himself.

Similarly, Assistant Warden Joe Caputo (Nick Sandow), who after being portrayed as somewhat of a perverted creep, is revealed to actually care about these prisoners, even if his hands are tied by beaurocracy. They really start to explore his character, revealing personal details (like him moonlighting in a band or his ongoing crush on Officer Fischer) that cause us to look at him in a whole new light, as Sandow shines in a role that's expanded in both depth and screen time. But he's undermined at every turn by corrupt, arrogant Warden Natalie "Fig" Figueroa (Alysia Reiner) who's not only more concerned with the prison's reputation than the health and safety of its inmates, but running an embezzelment sheme in the midst of her husband's political bid.

Litchfield's biggest scandal continues as Officer Bennett (Matt McGorry) and pregnant inmate Daya (Dascha Polanco) attempt to implicate hated guard Pornstache (Pablo Schreiber) as the father of her baby. What's surprising is how far they get with it and the eventual outcome which highlights the price that comes with doing the "right thing," a theme repeated often this season. Thinking along these lines, it wouldn't be a bad idea to add flashbacks for the guards and administrators next season, developing them even more. Healy seems to be the best candidate for this, as his backstory could help shed light on how this formerly idealistic counselor transformed into a woman-hating curmudgeon with no friends or personal life.   

Miss Rosa takes the wheel in the season finale
Whereas last season's finale ended with a cliffhanger, this nearly feature film length one (Ep. 2.13, "We Have Manners, We're Polite") appears to wraps things up neatly in a bow for the time being. It's telling that that in the sensational final scene, Piper is nowhere to be found. It comes down to a battle of good and evil between the two characters most deserving of appearing in it, bringing their arcs full circle.

For a series not praised enough for its soundtrack selections, they save a couple of the best ones for this episode, including an out of left field use of Deep Blue Something's 1995 pop classic "Breakfast at Tiffany's and a note perfect incorporation of Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear The Reaper." And I'm not ironically using the word "classic" for the former. It's no wonder many have misread its objective in that scene, choosing instead to take more cheap shots at a song that's too earnestly infectious and nostalgia-inducing to ever rag on. It makes perfect sense a character on this show would love it, as most of their musical tastes were left in the past when they entered Litchfield. 

Superior in every way to its inaugural season, this one manages to be much grittier and darker without losing any of the entertainment value or warmth and humor that initially made it such a success. And for those already sick of Piper and wanting the supporting players spotlighted instead, 12 of these 13 episodes surpass those expectations.When OITNB first started few could have guessed it would be this insightful about the prison system and how often society can fail those who end up a part of it, whether they're inmates or administration. That story isn't exclusively Piper's. But when you watch the flashbacks of these characters with their current struggles, you realize it almost doesn't matter what crime put them there. Sometimes we see it, but oftentimes not. Most of the damage was done before that, making their eventual incarceration an inevitability. The series can easily go a few more seasons as long as there are still stories to tell, even if we might eventually have to find out just how difficult it'll be for them to adjust once they're out.
                       

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Mad Men (Season 6)




Creator: Matthew Weiner
Starring: Jon Hamm, Elisabeth Moss, Vincent Kartheiser, John Slattery, Christina Hendricks, January Jones, Jessica Paré, Aaron Staton, Rich Sommer, Kiernan Shipka, Kevin Rahm, Christopher Stanley, Jay R. Ferguson, Ben Feldman, Robert Morse, James Wolk, Linda Cardellini, Harry Hamlin
Original Airdate: 2013

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

A while back there was this wild rumor circulating that Mad Men would conclude in the present day. It came from an interview conducted with showrunner Matt Weiner, who eventually clarified himself, even as the notion was dismissed by many as simply too far-fetched and preposterous to be true. The initial reasoning was that if this is a series about where we've come from and where we're going,  it's only fair we eventually find out where we've ended up. That's an interesting way to look at it, offset only by the improbability of an alcoholic, chain smoking Don Draper living to see the iphone and the fact that the series hasn't had a time jump much greater than even a year. But it's only in this sixth season that you could actually start to envision such a scenario. If not that, then perhaps something as equally mystifying or insane. Weiner wrote for The Sopranos and we all know how that ended so maybe it's time to prepare ourselves. All signposts point to the show hurling toward one of those polarizing conclusions and that's kind of exciting. And given how the series specializes in long term, novelistic storytelling, the groundwork for something like that would have been mapped out since the pilot.

A vacationing Don reads Dante's "Inferno" (Ep. 6.1, "The Doorway, Part I")
When I first started watching Mad Men I struggled to make it past the first season, finding it too slow and complaining nothing ever "happens." But a lot was happening. I just couldn't see it yet. The show's a slow burn. Slow enough that it's only now that we're fully reaping the rewards, knowing what the characters are thinking and feeling and being able to relate it to previous events. That's why it's so perplexing some have expressed displeasure with quite possibly its greatest season. And how could it not be? It's 1968. Putting these characters in that tumultuous year with the culture at a turning point is like capturing lightning in a bottle and Weiner wasn't likely to drop the ball. Many of our favorites are rapidly approaching (if not already at) middle age and time's speeding them by, leaving them as holdovers of an earlier era.

Slick ad man Don Draper's inner battle with his true identity of Dick Whitman (symbolically illustrated on the season's promotional poster) reaches a fever pitch, potentially claiming its most helpless victim yet: His own daughter. This might mark the first season we feel genuine sympathy for Dick, realizing that the true extent of his upbringing insured he'd never have a chance at becoming "Don Draper" for real. He had to adopt that persona, playing it to perfection up to this point. But now the cracks are showing. It's caught up with him, with the only glimmer of hope being that he now may finally be realizing it.

1968 finds not only Don (Jon Hamm), but the now two-floor ad agency of SCDP, at a crossroads. With Vietnam raging and the counterculture movement in full swing, all the characters are having difficulty adjusting to the times, both at the office and in the their personal lives, with the line between the two as invisible as ever. Everyone seems engaged in behavior that's cyclical, calling back to the first few seasons enough to make you wonder if any of them are truly capable of any kind of change or growth. Much how Don's affairs eroded and eventually destroyed his marriage with Betty (January Jones), the two-hour premiere ("The Doorway Parts I and II") reveals he's similarly grown tired of second wife Megan (Jessica Paré), just as her career as a soap actress is taking off.

Guest star Linda Cardellini as Sylvia Rosen
The timing of these marital issues isn't a coincidence since Don immediately loses interest in any woman he can't control, with the emotional abuse even extending to new mistress Sylvia Rosen ( Emmy-nominated guest star Linda Cardellini), the terms and conditions of their affair firmly in his grasp. Flashbacks to a young Dick Whitman growing up in a whorehouse set the stage for his toxic adult relationships with the opposite sex, viewing them as property, fit to discard whenever he's through. Not exactly the strongest foundation on which to build a life as a devoted husband and father, yet it's a lie he's still obsessively clinging to.

The scariest thing about Don's actions this season is how he can so casually compartmentalize the facets of his life to absolve himself the guilt of sleeping with his friend's wife. It's a new low, even for him. Don's cheated before, but never this brazenly, and certainly not without considering the ramifications that could eventually come from it. It's almost like he's testing fate and daring anyone to catch him. The days of Don walking into a room and winning over every man and woman in it with his confident swagger are slowly drawing to a close. And while he still shows flashes of brilliance, some of his pitches to clients now border on embarrassing, emblematic of a man who's given up lying to himself and others.

Don's legendary first season Kodak Carousel pitch (itself a beautiful pile of lies) has never seemed further away, as he's now centering a campaign for Sheraton Hawaii Resorts around death, discussing the politics of Vietnam over dinner with Chevy executives and sabotaging a Hershey account. This season truly is his "jumping-off point" and in season full of latent symbolism and conspiracy theories it's hard not to think that this Sheraton pitch about a man shedding his suit and disappearing gives only more credence to the wildest and most ambitious prediction yet regarding Don's final destination in the series. His reading of Dante's Inferno on the beach in the premiere suggests he's stuck in his own nine circles of hell, repeating previous sins like infidelity, while senselessly hoping for different results.

Roger mourns the death of...his shoe shine guy
Also trying to claw out of his own personal hell is Roger Sterling (John Slattery), who's been going through the motions for a while at work and discovering last season's mind opening LSD trip has done little to clean up the mess that's his life. As if coming to terms with his mother's death (and his shoe shiner) wasn't enough, he's essentially being blackmailed by his own daughter and son-in-law so he can see his grandson. Worse yet, Joan (Christina Hendricks) cuts him off from their love child, justifiably worried about his track record of sticking around. Slattery (who also directs standout episodes, "Man With a Plan" and a Tale of Two Cities") is, as usual, gold as Sterling, providing great comic relief while conveying the underlying tragedy of a character still refusing to grow up as he enters the Burt Cooper stage of his career, while wrestling with his own mortality. Roger's been phoning it in for a while now at work but there are points during the season where he actually seems rejuvenated and motivated to get new business, at least compared to Don, who's the laziest he's ever been.

Despite her promotion to partner last season, Joan is still viewed by her colleagues as somewhat of a joke, a partner in title only and treated as little more than a glorified secretary. Some of this is her fault for sleeping her way to the top, but more of it lies at the feet of the firm and the times. What choice did she have other than to offer herself up to the fat, sweaty Jaguar executive?  It's sad, but true, and Hendricks has always been skilled at depicting the fire inside Joan. The desire to be wanted yet respected, though this season her desires heavily tilt toward the latter. Trying to make major strides in being taken seriously for her intellect rather than her body, she finds an unexpected ally in former nemesis Peggy (Elisabeth Moss).

Having jumped ship to rival firm Cutler, Gleason and Chaough last season, a major merger ("For Immediate Release") drags Peggy back into the fold, while also introducing a dynamic new character who completely changes the game. Just when Peggy thinks she's done with Don, she's pulled back in and shoved right in the middle of a power struggle between her old boss and a new one, Ted Chaough (Kevin Rahm) of Cutler, Gleason and Chaough. Ted joins an increasingly short list of characters who can actually be considered a good guy, though less of one as the season progresses. Whereas Don never appreciated Peggy (or refused to show it), Ted appreciates her a little too much, to the point that it's clouding his judgment in both business and personal matters. Joining him is partner Jim Cutler, magnificently underplayed by guest star Harry Hamlin as a bizarro version of Roger, only far sleazier.

Ted Chaough (Kevin Rahm) reading copy
Peggy's emergence as the new Don has been in the works for a while, but this is the season where it starts to come to fruition, as she earns both the fear and respect of her employees. And now she's doing it under a boss who's actually promoting and fostering her creativity. It's common knowledge how good Elisabeth Moss is in the role, but this season Weiner gives her better material to work with than maybe any other previous season barring the first two. James Spader lookalike Rahm makes an Emmy-worthy debut as Ted, perhaps the only formidable adversary Don's had in the office precisely because of his polar opposite personality and management style. They rarely seem like partners at all, each trying to one up the other at every turn, their competition for accounts causing a war within the newly christened Sterling Cooper and Partners, just as a real one is ripping the country apart.  

If Peggy is evolving into the female version of Don Draper, Pete Campbell (Vincent Kartheiser) has always been the poor man's version of Dick Whitman. Unlike Don, when trying tries to wear a smooth, confident mask to hide his insecurities he comes off as a bumbling fool. In some ways his actions seem slimier and more pitiful because he's just so bad at it, using everything and everyone to get his way and rarely succeeding. Throughout the series he's raped a maid, serial cheated on his wife, tried to pick up an underage girl at driver's ed and taken a mistress who forgets who he is after electroshock therapy treatments. That all this pales in comparison to the hijinx he finds himself in this season speaks volumes. It also speaks for Karthesiser's pitifully comical performance that we still somehow feel sorry for him, emerging in these 13 episodes as something other than a Don wannabe.

Having finally attained what he thought would be the perfect life with a wife, baby, and home in Westchester, he's slowly come to the realization that none of that is him at all. The now balding Pete just wants to look and feel important and those are all just a means to an end. But unlike Don, he can't even successfully fake it as his savvy wife Trudy (Alison Brie) sees right through him  Having already torpedoed his marriage and rapidly losing traction at work, Weiner throws Pete into what's easily his funniest storyline since the show's inception involving his mother and a bizarre feud with the show's best new character. Pete finally meets his manipulative match, but the opponent carries an advantage he never will: Charm and likability.

"How are you?"
No one knows quite what to make of brown-nosing accounts man Bob Benson (James Wolk), but trying to find out exactly who he is and his motivations turn into one of the season's biggest mysteries and fodder for even more conspiracy theories. Since it seems impossible anyone could be so nice on this series without some kind of ulterior motive, red flags go up the second he arrives. As the clingy office climber, Wolk's performance is pitch perfect in how it's just disingenuous enough to generate intrigue that something's seriously off with this guy. FBI agent investigating Don? Time traveler? Murderer? The speculation is endless, despite this not even being that kind of a show. When we do eventually find out some major information on him, it still doesn't explain all of his bizarre behavior or begin to scratch the surface of what he's about. That Weiner has yet to do that is very good news heading into the final stretch, as the directions the character can go seem endless. Or it could all mean nothing. This series is famous for making us guess which.

More than perhaps any other previous season, historical events play an indispensable role in shaping the characters who are active participants in the social upheaval of the times rather than spectators on the sidelines. Vietnam, the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy, civil rights and the counterculture movement are all front and center in 1968 and it never feels as though the series is checking boxes, instead integrating them into the character's lives and showing how the changing landscape is affecting everyone. New York City is changing as well, entering an era of crime it won't fully recover from until the 90's. And as usual, it's also the impressively accurate retro production and costume design, and the music choices that seem as important to the series as its characters. With the 60's ranking as arguably the strongest decade for music in American history, there's much to draw from as we get Janis Joplin, The Monkees, and Joni Mitchell among others, along with some key integration of pop culture with that year's popular film, the Planet of the Apes playing a small, but crucial role.

Target practice with Stan Rizzo (Ep. 6.8, "The Crash")
In what should rank as one the finest episodes, "The Crash," takes full advantage of the craziness of the time, as a "Dr. Feelgood" like physician injects the entire creative staff with a powerful stimulant on the eve of a major Chevy pitch. The result is an episode that unconventionally toys with time, contains much dark humor and results in new personal revelations for a sick and exhausted Don.  There's also a downright scary event involving daughter Sally (Kiernan Shipka) and her little brother that works on a number of different levels.  It also maximizes colorful supporting characters like bearded stoner Stan Rizzo (Jay R. Ferguson), nerdy head of TV Harry Crane (Rich Sommer) and neurotic free-thinker Michael Ginsberg (Ben Feldman).

Ironically, it's the extremely likable, sometimes author Ken Cosgrove (Aaron Staton) who not only makes the biggest impression in the episode, but takes the most amount of abuse (physical and otherwise) throughout the season for his role in the Chevy account. He joins Ted, Megan and Betty's politician husband Henry Francis (Christopher Stanley) as the only somewhat moral and responsible characters, with the latter stepping up to assume the responsibilities of husband and father that Don skirted. That Betty now emerges as the preferable parent--physically and emotionally returning to early season one form not long after an eye-opening visit to Greenwich Village in the premiere-- is a testament to just how far Don is falling and failing as a dad.

Betty, even at worst, has at least tried to give their kids a stable home, but this season Don may have permanently traumatized one of them in much the same way he was in that whorehouse growing up. It's nearly impossible to discuss the season without referencing the major event that occurs toward the end of it ("Favors"). It's here where everything Sally thought she knew about her dad is torn to shreds in one moment and Don's cyclical behavior throughout this season is given the ultimate payoff. In this moment is possibly the best acting the somehow still Emmy-less Jon Hamm has ever done on the show, staggering aimlessly through Don's penthouse lobby in a wordless panic, the character legitimately shaken for the first time. Mr. Cool finally has no idea what to do.

Sally makes a shocking discovery (Ep. 6.11, "Favors")
Since it hasn't been front and center on the series until now, it's been easy to overlook just how messed up Sally's life could potentially turn out having parents like this. If Weiner's end game is to bridge the gap between our past and present, she's the only character capable of doing it, observing these people's actions through the same shocked, impressionable eyes we've had since the show's pilot. She's also sharper than so many of the dysfunctional adults she's surrounded by, offering up one-liners and words of wisdom that make them look immature by comparison.

Sally's stay at a boarding school where she uses her friendship with the infamous Glen (Marten Weiner) to manipulate a pair of mean girls ("The Quality of Mercy") shows just how far she's come. Finally seeing her father for what he really is, it'll be fascinating to see what happens as Sally enters her rebellious teen phase, of which we've already gotten a preview. And how fortunate they've been to have an actress as good as Shipka playing her and not just reaching, but far exceeding, the lofty expectations of a constantly changing part. A good case can be made that Sally's the series' true protagonist, and when we do reach that highly anticipated final scene, it's a safe bet she'll be in it. Let's just hope she's not shaking a snow globe.

If there's a rockbottom, Don hits it at the end of this season, having seemingly lost everything. Or has he? The season finale ("In Care Of") shows a man who may have finally shed the skin of Don Draper, possibly ready to accept his past as Dick Whitman, if not fully integrate him into his current life. But we've teases of that before, only to have him slip back into his selfish, emotionally destructive ways. The idea of Don starting a new life with Megan in California is exactly what it first came to him as: A dream. While the agency briefly returns to California for business this season, Don's desire to escape to the west coast reaches as far back as the Season 2 classic, "The Jet Set," when he crashed at the pad of some wild bohemians. What he really wants to do is run away, not with Megan, but from her, since he can never return her feelings with the baggage he's carrying. There's also concern just how long she'll be around, as many have speculated that the Sharon Tate t-shirt she wore in Ep. 6.9 "The Better Half" marks her for death. I wouldn't be quite so sure, but as we know, even wardrobe details on this show are rarely unintentional.

Megan Draper wearing Sharon Tate's iconic t-shirt
A public breakdown and a sacrifice he makes for a co-worker suggests that while Don may be too late to salvage his own mess, he can help someone else from repeating his mistakes. This is the season everything comes full circle and Weiner throws all his cards on the table. Proof comes in the last image, which is strong and enduring enough to double as the series closer. But somehow there's more, and it feels like there should be. Contrary to popular belief, Mad Men is a much better now than when it started because we've gone through so much with the characters that we've reached kind of a shorthand with them, knowing their motivations before even they realize it, yet shocked by their actions just the same. The show isn't only about Don Draper anymore. It's grown bigger than that, with the complete picture coming into sharper focus with each passing episode.                       

Friday, October 4, 2013

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.