Showing posts with label Jesse Plemons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesse Plemons. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 30, 2025

Black Mirror (Season 7)

Creator: Charlie Brooker
Starring: Rashida Jones, Chris O' Dowd, Tracee Ellis Ross, Siena Kelly, Rosy McEwen, Ben Bailey Smith, Issa Rae, Awkwafina, Emma Corrin, Harriet Walter, Peter Capaldi, Lewis Gribben, Will Poulter, Paul Giamatti, Patsy Ferran, Cristin Milioti, Jesse Plemons, Jimmi Simpson, Billy Magnussen
Original Airdate: 2025

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

If there's a recurring complaint about Charlie Brooker's British sci-fi anthology series Black Mirror, it's that its dark edge has gradually dulled since moving to Netflix in 2016 and becoming more "Americanized." And while there may be some truth to that, the bigger concern has been consistency, especially amid a revolving door of talent in front and behind the camera. With viewers often unsure when or if another season is coming, apathy can also set in, all while its critics continue to accuse Brooker of presenting repetitive variations on a similar theme. 

There's no denying that the dangers of modern technology provide its writers with endlessly fertile ground to draw from. But if the series always adheres to a comfortable formula (tech + humans = bad), veering too close or far from it has proved risky, especially when its most memorable entries tend to hit that sweet spot in between. This season continues the tradition, irritating those put off by the series' length and pacing while still appeasing fans enthralled with its Twilight Zone-inspired storytelling.

Because of its anthology format, none of the stories directly connect, but the show's been around long enough to have its own self contained universe, full of Easter eggs, callbacks, and tiny details tied to previous episodes. Now they've taken this further with a full blown sequel and spin-off that expand on what came before, while another cribs from the series' most beloved entry, suffering in comparison. The smartest entries always put the human element first, establishing its characters before their lives are upended by a twist that reveals who they really are. As usual, it's a trip worth taking, so long as you prepare yourself for a mixed bag of high and lows.


"Common People"  ★★½ (out of ★★★★)

When schoolteacher Amanda (Rashida Jones) falls into a coma with a brain tumor in director Aly Pankiw's depressing "Common People," her welder husband Mike (Chris O' Dowd) is approached by "Rivermind" representative Gaynor (Tracee Ellis Ross). If he signs on the dotted line for a monthly fee, the company can wirelessly transfer Amanda's lost brain function from its servers, giving her a second chance at life. But after she awakens and seemingly resumes normal activity, complications arise that require frequent subscription upgrades and more money to fix. And it's cash they just don't have, leading Mike to take desperate measures.

Though lacking surprises, this has its moments, mainly involving the procedure's wacky side effects and dire consequences related to Mike's perverse method for raising funds. A timely, damning indictment of the healthcare system, this bludgeons us with a message many already agree with, even if it doesn't offer a profound statement beyond watching the couple continuously suffer. The performances help pull it through, reminding us that the talented Jones should be doing more dramatic work while O' Dowd delivers as the anguished, supportive husband. You'll see the last scene coming from a mile away, but at least it's the right ending.


"Bête Noire" ★★★½ (out of ★★★★) 

The more unpredictable "Bête Noire" focuses on ace chocolate company food scientist Maria (Siena Kelly), who's stunned to see her old high school classmate Verity (Rosy McEwan) at headquarters before being hired as the newest assistant. But when Maria starts getting blamed for mistakes around the office, she suspects the quirky, eccentric Verity is behind it. Only there's a lot more to their history than we know, including a shocking secret that has Maria fighting to keep her job and sanity.

Skillfully directed by Toby Haynes, this contains a promising premise shrouded in mystery while doubling as a character study that explores the gap between perception and reality. After teasing a clever parable about gaslighting or maybe even some kind of Mandela Effect, the story's tech angle kicks in when the rug's pulled out in an intriguing third act twist. Featuring a handful of clever tiny details and two wildly entertaining performances, it's probably the most underappreciated of the season, likely to hold up on repeated watches. It takes a big swing toward the end that isn't completely earned, but the toxic interpersonal relationship keeps viewers guessing throughout its tight, well constructed 49 minutes. 

 

"Hotel Reverie" ★★½ (out of ★★★★)

Hotel Reverie features a promising premise that just doesn't reach its full potential despite the noblest intentions. When A-list star Brandy Friday (Issa Rae) unknowingly signs on to an AI-based remake of the classic film Hotel Reverie for ReDream productions, her consciousness gets uploaded into the black and white romantic drama. But after falling in love with a digital recreation of doomed actress Dorothy Chambers (Emma Corrin), sticking to the script becomes difficult, especially as an increasingly self aware Dorothy opens her eyes and heart to a world beyond the movie. Unfortunately, Brandy's desire for them to be together doesn't just threaten the film, but both their existences. 

Those classifying this as a poor man's "San Junipero" may actually be on to something beyond the obvious plot similarities of a romance defying constraints of time and space. It's almost as if there's a deliberate attempt by Brooker and director Haolu Wang an to recreate the magic of that Emmy winning episode, which is ironic for a script that revolves entirely around a remake. But Brooker's constant callbacks to that episode have actually done the series a disservice by setting other entries up for failure. This feels like one of them.

The real highlight is Emma Corrin's frighteningly believable turn as a golden age Hollywood star with personal demons who must face a sudden, shocking truth about herself. Issa Rae impresses less, though some of that can be attributed to playing a character already out of her element. They also lack chemistry, even if the bits within the film's AI universe do visually dazzle, providing a glimpse into what many hope won't be the future of movies. While marginally successful as a cautionary tale, sluggish pacing keeps the story at an arm's length. If nothing else, it's worth catching for Corrin's performance.

 

"Plaything" ★★★ (out of ★★★★)

An unofficial sequel to Black Mirror's 2018 interactive film Banderswitch, "Plaything" takes place in 2034, as manic, disheveled shoplifter Cameron Walker (Peter Capaldi) is linked by police to the murder of an unidentified victim decades ago. While interrogated, he opens up about the crime, which took place when the former PC Zone writer was invited by genius programmer Colin Ritman (Will Poulter) to review Tuckersoft's latest simulation game, "Thronglets." Ahead of its time, the game features no conflict, instead requiring the player to raise digital, sentient creatures. But when an obsessive Cameron becomes overly devoted to caring for them, tragedy strikes, causing him to go off the deep end.

Director David Slade keeps it simple, to the point that seeing Banderswitch is hardly a prerequisite to understanding or appreciating what unfolds. There's also a refreshingly direct throughline about human cruelty that may temporarily silence detractors who feel the series has lost its bite, with this episode coming closest to capturing the pessimistic world view of its early installments. And as good as Capaldi is in his unhinged turn, Lewis Gribbon equals him as younger Cameron, showing us how this awkward, supercharged bundle of nerves gets sucked into the addictive world of Colin's groundbreaking creation.  But it's really the juxtaposition of these innocent Minion-like creatures alongside an eventual eruption of violence that gives this episode its resonance. The implications are larger and wider reaching than the story's scale would suggest, leaving us with more to consider after the credits roll.

 

"Eulogy" ★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Deeply human and personal, "Eulogy" transfixes from start to finish, as lonely, middle-aged Phillip (Paul Giamatti) receives news from a company called "Eulogy" that his ex-girlfriend Carol (Hazel Monaghan) recently died. Despite having not seen her in decades, he's asked to contribute to the memorial via a kit that enables users to virtually step into their old photos. 

While taken through this process by The Guide (Patsy Ferran), an irritated, resistant Phillip realizes that he defaced all pictures of Carol after their break-up, adversely affecting memory retrieval. But as he walks through these photos, the pain and joy he experienced comes flooding back, forcing him to confront the actual truth about their relationship.

The concept of nostalgia therapy has been explored in Black Mirror a few times before, but never to this extent, and rarely as powerfully. Carrying thematic echoes of Serling's classic Twilight Zone episode "Walking Distance," there's no funny business here, as the episode's technological hook organically intertwines with its narrative to enhance this extremely relatable story of missed opportunity and regret. A touching treatise on the lies people tell themselves to make sense of their past choices, the episode isn't just Phillip's personal therapy session, but a virtual time capsule of sorts. 

Visually, directors Chris Barrett and Luke Taylor make the most of their photographic locations with Phillip physically traveling from one memory to the next, aided by an increasingly opinionated guide who extracts new truths from him at each stop. What results is something akin to a puzzle, with small clues gradually pushing the protagonist to drop his guard and acknowledge he wasn't exactly an innocent victim. It also shows how memories can positively and negatively co-exist in our minds, frequently clouding facts and obscuring objectivity. 

Giamatti hits all these heartbreaking beats with just the right mix of despair and bitterness, invoking genuine empathy for a cranky, irascible man who gets a front row seat to his biggest mistake. And as the dryly bemused guide with a secret, Farran makes for an ideal onscreen counterpart. The big twist is a slam dunk not just because it makes sense, but stands in stark contrast to the gloom and doom that's defined the series, this time using the technology to bring our protagonist closer to a more authentic version of himself and his past.

 

"USS Callister: Into Infinity" ★★★½ (out of ★★★★)  

Exciting and briskly paced, "USS Callister: Into Infinity" picks up after Callister Inc. employee Nanette (Cristin Milioti) discovered that deceased company CTO Robert Daly (Jesse Plemons) was harvesting her and other co-workers' DNA to create digital clones for his game. Now with sleazy CEO James Walton (Jimmi Simpson) being questioned by a reporter about Daly's technology, he and Nanette enter "Infinity" to help. But while Nanette's game avatar struggles to ensure her crew's survival by stealing space credits, a dark secret at the heart of Daly's creation puts them in further peril.  

The biggest surprise isn't how Brooker and returning director Toby Haynes seamlessly continue where Season 4's highly acclaimed, Star Trek-inspired space adventure left off, but that every original participant returns 7 years later. Of all the episodes, this is easily the most fun, immediately alleviating all concerns about remembering the previous chapter's details with a brief synopsis. But even those who missed the original should still find themselves immersed without confusion, investing in these quirky characters as the action shifts between the real world and this multiplayer universe.  

Milioti and Simpson entertainingly carry this in dual roles as the already blurry line separating game from reality is further obliterated by Daly, whose technological reach extends from beyond the grave. And while Plemons' screen time is less, he adds such a different dimension to his toxic, antisocial programmer it may as well be another part entirely. And in some ways it is, with Nanette and her crew finding that out the hard way, despite her best efforts to obtain a different result. Comedic and suspenseful, it's hour and a half flies by, raising the stakes while reaping the benefits of not being as heavy a watch as the other episodes. It's a worthy follow-up that not only builds on the original, but frequently surpasses it.                                 

Friday, January 19, 2024

Killers of the Flower Moon

Director: Martin Scorsese
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert De Niro, Lily Gladstone, Jesse Plemons, John Lithgow, Brendan Fraser, Tantoo Cardinal, Cara Jade Myers, Jason Isbell, William Belleau, Scott Shepherd, Tatanks Means, Sturgill Simpson, Charlie Musselwhite, Pat Healy, Jack White, Barry Corbin, Pete Yorn
Running Time: 206 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

There's this chilling moment toward the end of Martin Scorsese's Killers of the Flower Moon when Robert De Niro's villainous character predicts that any outrage about the murders he ordered won't last. People move on and history fades, until disappearing, rarely given a second thought. Sadly, he ended up being right. Long removed from public consciousness, it took David Grann's 2017 non-fiction bestseller for the Osage Nation killings to be widely acknowledged for the pure savagery it was.

Now the basis for this three and a half hour epic, Scorsese and co-writer Eric Roth are put in the unenviable position of not only doing justice to real events, but molding it into a piece of art and entertainment that doesn't feel like a preachy history lecture. On that front, Scorsese again proves his worth, giving shape and meaning to a gigantic story too well crafted to be merely written off as a cinematic miniseries.   

During the annual "Flower Moon" ceremony, a discovery of oil deposits beneath the ground brings abundant wealth to Oklahoma's Native American Osage tribe, even as their revenues are legally overseen by white court-appointed guardians. But World War I veteran Ernest Burkhart's (Leonardo DiCaprio) return to the states in 1919 to live with his uncle, William "King" Hale (De Niro) soon makes a bad situation worse. A reserve deputy sheriff and local political honcho, Hale's been posing as a friendly benefactor to the Osage inheritors while orchestrating their murders for money. Now with Ernest in the fold, he has even more help.

When not committing armed robberies with his brother Byron (Scott Shepherd), Ernest works as a driver for Mollie Kyle (Lily Gladstone), an Osage whose family owns oil headrights. But after Ernest falls in love and marries her, Hale convinces him they need to target his new wife's relatives to gain control of the inheritance. With Mollie suffering from diabetes and caring for an elderly mother, Hale and his nephews sets their sights on eliminating her sisters first. As the reservation's body count rises, Hale uses his pull with local law enforcement to cover up the killings, until the arrival of F.B.I. agent Thomas Bruce White Sr. (Jesse Plemons) threatens to expose it all.

It's somewhat difficult to reconcile how Mollie marries Ernest to begin with since there's hardly a minute where he doesn't come across as a hopelessly dense creep. And DiCaprio, fitted with bad teeth and mealy mouthed drawl that makes him sound like Sling Blade's Karl Childers, plays this to a hilt, with him initially tagging behind her like a lost puppy. Despite Mollie having a good head on her shoulders and seemingly aware of his faults, Gladstone succeeds in making her believably vulnerable enough to fall for this. The character's sadness over the Osage's plight, her own declining health and continuous family tragedies could be counted as contributing factors she thinks marrying him may lessen.

The gullible Ernest doesn't start out gunning for Mollie's money until his uncle tells him to, knowing once this lost soul feels wanted and important, there's no looking back. And since the grandfatherly Hale's hands are in everything as he projects the aura of an upstanding community leader, covering up these murders becomes that much easier. Ernest expresses occasional doubt about the atrocities he carries out, but mostly because he's too dumb to fully comprehend them. He's also a major screw up who still somehow increases their chances of being caught despite Hale having local law enforcement and doctors in his pocket, declaring the gruesome murders as suicides and accidents. 

After much of Mollie's family is buried, it's easy to assume she must know who's responsible. When exactly that happens we're not sure, which is what makes Gladstone's performance such a delicate dance. Using little other than unreadable expressions and body language, she plays Mollie as outwardly guarded and composed while playing her cards close to the vest, realizing that could be the only remaining chance at survival. 

A lot of the smaller turns add up, such as Cara Jade Myers' role as Mollie's unpredictably promiscuous sister Anna and Jason Isbell's quietly intense Bill Smith, the brother-in-law who spooks Ernest with his suspicions. The most effective subplot involves melancholy alcoholic Osage Henry Roan (William Belleau), a friend of Hale's who finds himself in the crosshairs of hired assassin Alvin Reynolds (Charles Musselwhite). Singer/songwriter Pete Yorn also cameos as an explosives expert, but the artist whose presence looms largest is the late Robbie Robertson, with The Band co-founder's bluesy score proving subtly impactful, heightening the film's most powerful stretches and overall tone. Jack Fisk's production design also aids in that regard, somewhat reminiscent of his work in There Will Be Blood. 

All bets are off when the FBI close in, with Ernest and Hale scrambling to tie up loose ends while a bedridden Mollie is neutralized, hallucinating and wasting away despite being one of the few in the country to obtain insulin. Hardly an appendage, Mollie's story continues uninterrupted into the second half, where her character's physically incapacitated. Teetering between life and death, some of Gladstone's best scenes come as the full brunt of her husband's actions reign down. And while the kingpin role may not be a huge leap for De Niro, you'd have to really go back years to find a part he's been able to devour quite like this.

Jesse Plemons' agent White projects an aw shucks demeanor off the bat, but proves cunning enough to let the perpetrators implicate themselves and each other with their lies. Fittingly, Ernest can't manage to make the most obvious, face-saving choice without briefly getting suckered by Hale and Brendan Fraser's bombastic defense attorney W.S. Hamilton. And even when Ernest comes close to doing the right thing out of circumstantial necessity, it doesn't take long for him to ruin that also, failing to take responsibility for the worst he's done.   

While many will understandably find it taxing to spend the entirety of this picture with DiCaprio's easily manipulated sleazebag character, it could help explain why Scorsese strays from Grann's source material, foregoing a heroic FBI origin story to put increased focus on the victims. This adds some depth, transforming what could have been a law enforcement procedural into a gripping meditation on prejudice and corruption.   

Scorsese finds a completely fresh and inventive device to close on, letting us know what's become of these people in a stylistic approach that puts to shame your ordinary closing title cards that vomit historical data. The movie is more cut and dry than you'd expect, but it's what happened, and for any quibbles about various portrayals, all those continuous murders still hit hardest. No matter how much money the Osage had, they lacked power and a voice, at least until they finally convinced the right people to listen. 

Saturday, December 18, 2021

The Power of the Dog

Director: Jane Campion
Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Kirsten Dunst, Jesse Plemons, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Thomasin McKenzie, Genevieve Lemon, Keith Carradine, Frances Conroy, Peter Carroll, Alison Bruce, Alice Englert
Running Time: 126 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

For much of Jane Campion's The Power of the Dog, you're wondering where it's all going. There's this uneasy feeling that never subsides throughout, even as it remains too easy to categorize the absorbing Western as merely a set-up awaiting the big payoff. While the narrative's broken into five parts and centers on four characters, the story's really focused on one. He's the antagonist, instigator and individual keeping us in constant tension as we dread his next move. From this antagonist's first appearance, we speculate what his deal really is, and that curiosity never lets up as he tightens his stranglehold on the other characters forced to reckon with his sociopathic behavior, albeit in very different ways. Spending an entire film waiting for someone to snap and anticipating the catalyst could be draining, but Campion milks that for everything it's worth. When the explosion does come, it definitely doesn't arrive how we expect, as do very few developments in this deeply layered script adapted from Thomas Savage's 1967 novel. 

Set against the backdrop of a cold, unforgiving world that suffers no fools (and an equally icy Jonny Greenwood score) the film's about monstrous behavior in search of an explanation where none could ever suffice. It's when an answer starts presenting itself that the story gets even stronger, with Campion showing incredible restraint by presenting this development as almost entirely subtext, letting viewers draw their own conclusions about this man and what shaped him. Similar to There Will Be Blood, it's about an egotistical madman running roughshod, dominating the proceedings and devouring everyone around him. And like that film, we root for his comeuppance, unaware of what those consequences could entail. 

It's 1925 Montana and wealthy, ranch owning brothers Phil (Cumberbatch) and George Burbank (Jesse Plemons) stop by the inn of widow Rose Gordon (Kirsten Dunst), whose son Peter's (Kodi Smit-McPhee) effeminate demeanor and appearance is mocked by the cruel Phil. Considerably kinder brother George consoles Rose over the incident, leading the two to become romantically involved and eventually engaged, with her moving in with him at the Burbank ranch, further angering Phil. As Rose whittles under the pressure of having to impress George's parents and Governor Edward (Keith Carradine), loose cannon Phil becomes even more of an unwelcome, threatening presence in their lives. With Peter coming back from school to stay at the ranch and George walking a difficult line in attempting to control his brother, Rose continues to mentally and physically deteriorate. But unfortunately for her, Phil seems to have found a new friend, further fragmenting an already tenuous family dynamic at the brink of implosion.

Upon first meeting the Burbank brothers, a couple of details are clear right away. Phil's an angry, bitter, damaged man who never misses an opportunity to belittle or insult anyone he comes in contact with. He shows his only shred of humanity when reminiscing and telling stories about late friend and mentor, "Bronco" Henry, who has to rank among the most important unseen characters in recent film, assuming he even exists. Residing somewhere between reality, myth, and legend, it's obvious this mystery man molded and shaped Phil into what he eventually became. Not showing him is smart, as even a brief flashback would shatter the mystique of a character audiences have already built up in their minds as being more impactful than whoever we'd see on screen.

Hints are dropped that Phil used to be somewhat of a respectable member of society with an impressive educational background. He's also touted by his brother as an engaging conversationalist, to the point that his presence is actually highly anticipated by the governor at George's disaster of a dinner party. It becomes even more of one when Phil makes a unfashionably late entrance after being insulted by his brother's suggestion that he clean up and bathe. It's one of the few times George stands up to his brother in any way and he's noticeably weak and uncommitted, walking back the suggestion almost immediately, even going so far as to apologize later for bringing it up.

Brother George definitely has a system in place for dealing with Phil. He simply doesn't, finding ways to work around his deplorable behavior, just taking it on the chin when he calls him "chubby" and even occasionally building Phil up in ways that may not even be true, further encouraging his brother's narcissism and selfishness. And yet George remains the only guardrail and protector from himself Phil has, as ineffective as he often is at the job. With his down home demeanor and outwardly pleasant disposition, Jesse Plemons is perfect in this and likely won't get the credit due to him for carrying much of the picture's fist half. With him providing such a stark contrast as the calm, steady responsible sibling, Cumberbatch's bone-chilling portrayal of Phil jumps out even more. 

Dunst's arc might be the most shocking in just how far Rose falls from how she's initially perceived. Some of this can be attributed to Phil, but red flags hint that it wouldn't have taken much to send her spiraling down a hole of alcoholism and depression. What's impressive about Dunst is how it seems as if she's playing two parts before completely letting go of one, stripping away the functional facade Rose attempted to project upon marrying George. She wrongly sees herself as a fraud and a series of challenges bring out her instability, with only son Peter seemingly in tune with its severity, even while remaining too withdrawn to act. Kodi Smit-McPhee plays Peter's cards close enough to the vest that he becomes just as intriguing a mystery as Phil. In the last act, his performance takes over in ways entirely unexpected, especially considering how unassuming his introduction was.  

Phil Burbank remains the story's big question mark until the very end. And what a finish Campion gives us, as George and Rose kind of fade into the background while Phil's motivations and history become the focus. Even as he continues his abusive, performative displays of toxic masculinity, Cumberbatch still gives Phil these fleeting self-reflective moments of vulnerability where we know there's a lot more to this guy than the show he's putting on. And the scariest part of this is that there's another character who might be just as maladjusted and complicated as he is.         

When karma does finally catch up it's a cruel irony we're too conflicted to know how to feel because Cumberbatch's performance has taken us on such a ride, adding new wrinkles and questions to Phil with each surprising plot development. An emotionally diseased man who doesn't see himself as anyone else does, the entire film undergoes a shift in perspective by revealing how he truly views himself, taking the story to another level and lifting everything around it. And then there's that final twist, so carefully and patiently executed that you may need a rewatch to truly appreciate how all the seeds were subtly planted to get there. The Power of the Dog is a slow, deliberate burn, but for good reason, keeping you on edge waiting to see how a seemingly impossible situation can be resolved when no one seems capable of taking the initiative to stop it. 

Friday, August 20, 2021

Jungle Cruise

Director: Juame Collet-Serra
Starring: Dwayne Johnson, Emily Blunt, Edgar Ramirez, Jack Whitehall, Jesse Plemons, Paul Giamatti
Running Time: 127 min.

Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)
 
It's hard not to have a conflicted internal dialogue regarding Dwayne Johnson's on-screen career, which seems to grow by leaps and bounds with each new release. In case you haven't heard, he gets paid a lot of money to star in some very big movies that make serious bank and audiences seem to really enjoy. While some are undeniably better than others, it wouldn't be irrational to categorize all of them as pure escapism or entertainment with a capital "E." And that's not a dig. His projects may have little sustaining nutritional value but he has the charismatic ability to basically pull off anything, making you wonder whether he should attempt some seriously challenging material instead of continuing to elevate lesser mainstream movies that more desperately need him.

Maybe that pivot will eventually come for Johnson, but for now we're kidding ourselves if we think he's going to stop making movies like Jungle Cruise. He knows his audience, cleverly blazing a career path even the biggest stars would be envious of. In other words, if it aint broke, don't fix it. For now. This one's more of the same and pretty disposable, sharing much in common with the Disney theme park attraction on which it's based, genuinely feeling like a movie adapted from a ride. It's occasionally funny, the performances are enjoyably hammy and there's a lot happening. In fact, so much is going on that for a while I actually just started to tune out, only making a rebound of sorts toward the final act. It's a mess, though not an agressively offensive one, improved greatly by two winning leads who deserve better, but remain undeniably great together. 

After a flashback to 1556 shows a Spanish conquistador-led trek to South America in search of the mystical Tears of the Moon healing tree, Dr. Lily Houghton's (Emily Blunt) research on it is presented by her brother MacGregor (Jack Whitehall) to the Royal Society of London in 1918. Despite the siblings' claims that the tree's healing flowers can revolutionize medicine and cure disease are met with skepticism and derision, Lily steals an arrowhead artifact she believes is key to discovering its whereabouts. With that and an ancient map in hand, Lily and MacGregor arrive in Brazil as she recruits cheap jungle cruise skipper Frank Wolff (Johnson) to take them down the Amazon. 

Upon stealing his boat back from his scuzzy boss Nilo Nemolato (Paul Giamatti) Frank heads down the river with the Houghtons, unaware they're being followed by a German sub commandeered by the conniving Prince Joachim (Jesse Plemons), who's desperately seeking the Tree for his own fame and fortune. With Lily unsure she can trust the cocky Frank, he views her as a humorless, pampered princess. Even if there's a lot more to both, they'll have little choice but to co-exist to survive this trip, if they want to reap the benefits of the elusive Tears of the Moon.

Sticking strictly to the Disney playbook, anyone expecting to be dazzled by plot twists and suprises or taken aback by its unexpected edginess will be disappointed. Co-writers Michael Green, Glenn Ficara and John Requa actually bring more narrative nuance to the brief flashbacks involving Frank's backstory and that of Edgar Ramirez's embattled Spanish conquistador than a lot of main arc involving the hunt for the Tree. Most of the mission revolves around slapstick silliness and the mustache-twirling Prince's cat-and-mouse game with the Houghtons and Frank. Thankfully, none of this is completely unbearable, in no small part due to the chemistry between Johnson and Blunt, with the former having some real fun with the character's one-liners and cheesy puns throughout. 

With Johnson's overconfident con man taking center stage, it's been somewhat overlooked just how good Blunt is opposite him, showcasing some excellent comedic timing and physical chops in over-the-top sight gags they could have easily fallen flat with less game actress in the part. If there's a drawback, it's that the pair bounce off each other so naturally that their relationship seems almost asexual, strangely lacking any romantic sparks to the point that they seem more like siblings than Blunt and Whitehall do. Of course, this doesn't entirely fall on them, as bringing heated chemistry to a family film based on a kids' park ride probably wasn't high on Disney's priority list, nor should it be. 

Plemons isn't exactly miscast in the Prince Joaquim role since he's played more than his fair share of villains, but it's still odd watching him play one this over-the-top. He's compulsively watchable in a scenery-chewing kind of way, occasionally making you wonder if he stepped in after Chistoph Waltz passed on what plays like one of his trademark parts. As a sidekick character, Jack Whitewall is more entertainingly endearing than you'd expect given MacGregor was probably intended as more of a one-dimensional, snobby irritant. 

The real star might be composer James Newton Howard's clever reworking of Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters" as the backdrop to what's by far the best sequence in the entire film, where Frank's origin story is revealed in full. Skillfully constructed, exciting and well shot, you'll wish the whole film were as absorbing as these five minutes, offering up substantial proof there was potential to be mined from at least part of this premise. And it's not that the rest looks bad per se, just very artificial and effects heavy. At certain points many shots have this enticing, picaresque quality to them, until you realize it only looks nice in the superficial way you'd expect to appreciate in a Thomas Kincaid painting. And the less said about Frank's pet tiger the better, as it's about time to call a moratorium on CGI animals if this is the best they can do.

The African Queen this isn't, but it doesn't need to be, even as it deliberately draws upon the 1951 film as a blueprint, along with some added inspiration from the Indiana Jones franchise (mostly Crystal Skull though). At just over two hours it isn't a total slog and reliable action director Juame Collet-Serra keeps the story moving at a fast enough clip that you can imagine families losing themselves in all the bells and whistles, as intended. But many more will have little difficulty filing Jungle Cruise under "not my thing," acknowledging its obvious strengths while recognizing it's nothing we haven't seen before.

Thursday, April 1, 2021

Judas and the Black Messiah

Director: Shaka King
Starring: Lakeith Stanfield, Daniel Kaluuya, Jesse Plemons, Dominique Fishback, Ashton Sanders, Algee Smith, Darrell Britt-Gibson, Lil Rel Howery, Dominique Thorne, Martin Sheen, Amari Cheatom
Running Time: 126 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

During Shaka King's otherwise tremendous Judas and the Black Messiah, I couldn't help but roll my eyes in its opening minutes when Martin Sheen becomes the latest victim of the J. Edgar Hoover curse, stipulating that any actor portraying the former FBI director on film over the past thirty years must wear embarrassing prosthetics that severely alter their appearance for no particular reason. This despite the fact that the real man was relatively nondescript looking and few seem to really know or care anyway. He has to be the most unsuccessfully essayed figure in modern biographical movies in that the more we see of him, the less we learn or care. 

Fake nose and all, it's to Sheen's credit he survives this brief scene and is actually quite good in a more impactful one later. So while my petition demanding J. Edgar no longer appear in any 60's set period projects is pending, his presence is only a minor distraction here, serving once again as a gateway to far more intriguing figures. One of them, the "Messiah" of the film's title, is the chairman of the Chicago chapter of the Black Panthers, Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya), whom Hoover spends his limited screen time galvanizing the bureau to take down. 

While Hampton was memorably depicted in another of the year's Best Picture nominees, The Trial of the Chicago 7, this provides a much deeper dive into what he stood for and exactly how his life was tragically cut short. And yet still the film isn't entirely"about" him, but rather the collision course he's unknowlingly on with petty criminal turned FBI informant William O' Neal (Lakeith Stanfield), whose infamous interview from PBS' 1989 documentary, Eyes on the Prize II also serve as the story's bookends. He'd end up taking his own life after it aired, and watching King's dramatization of events, it isn't hard to see how these events gutted him inside in the decades since. 

It's the late '60's when 17-year-old Bill O'Neal is arrested in Chicago after attempting to steal a vehicle while posing as a federal officer. At the station he's approached with a deal from FBI Special Agent Roy Mitchell (Jesse Plemons), who offers to drop all charges if he agrees to go undercover and infiltrate the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party led by Fred Hampton. Quickly snuffing out that O' Neal appears to show little interest in politics or social justice, Mitchell's convinced he's found his informant, and one capable of divorcing himself from the emotions that would potentially compromise such a sting. 

With Hampton's influence growing as he forms alliances with gangs and various militia groups, the Panthers also establish community outreach programs for education and child care. But viewed by the FBI on the heels of Martin Luther King's assassination as a groundswell civil rights movement as violent and dangerous as the Klu Klux Klan, Hampton becomes the bureau and Mitchell's main target. Believably slipping into the role of a full-fledged Panther, O'Neal slowly gains Hampton's trust, collecting intel for Mitchell that could lead to far worse ramifications for the revolutionary than he ever anticipated. But that's assuming Hampton doesn't discover his identity first.

The events leading up to Hampton's death and circumstances surrounding his life have never been this thoroughly covered in cinematic form so it's easy to understand the temptation to label it as the first Hampton biopic. But even in covering such essential ground, it's more about O'Neal's betrayal, which link the two men in history and will undoubtedly draw comparisons to certain elements of Spike Lee's BlacKkKlansman in terms of plot. But there's really no relation considering the stark differences between the two groups and the sense of tension and immediacy surrounding O'Neal's even deeper infiltration and how seamlessly embedded into the Black Panthers' culture he became. When he's in, he's all the way in, and despite his believability, there's hardly a moment where you're not thinking he'll be found out, regardless of anyone's familiarity with what actually occurred. 

Stanfield's giving a tricky dual performance, simultaneously playing this cornered criminal who's at least partially manipulated into doing the FBI's dirty work. Once inside, he has to be someone else entirely, legitimately fighting for a cause greater than himself and the actor subtly implies enough doubt that O'Neal's performance within a performance is starting to become the real thing as his allegiance develops. A self-professed blank slate going in, it was always going to be a tall order for him to not pick a side or have his moral compass broken with this much on the line. 

While the methods Agent Mitchell uses to convince O'Neal that he's protecting the sanctity of the country seem to justify Hampton's entire cause, Plemons performance grows colder and less sympathetic along the way, which is a good choice. Mitchell isn't O'Neil's friend and never will be, no matter how many times he invites him to his house or a posh restaurant. Mitchell's using O'Neal while the small-time crook sees dollar signs in his arrangement with Mitchell and a shot at a new start. Instead, he's in constant fear of being uncovered and killed, as his manufactured loyalty to the Panthers has him doubting how he somehow ended up on the wrong team. 

Kaluuya gives off more than enough electricity as Hampton to let us see how he's able to wrangle such a devoted group of followers and why the Panthers attracted so much attention from law enforcement. Just as strong is a quietly captivating Dominique Fishback as Hampton's girlfriend, Deborah Johnson (for whom the actress is an uncanny lookalike), with their relationship providing many of the film's most poignant scenes, albeit ones tinged with a sense of impending doom that comes to fruition with his eventual death. It's also an event O'Neal has a far greater hand in than expected for those unfamilar with the exact history. To call him an active participant wouldn't be far off base, nor would labeling him a full-blown accessory to murder.

We do get an epilogue that seems to go on longer than usual under these circumstances, with title cards and actual footage, making you wonder if this ending is starting to become a prerequisite for any material based on a true story. Aside from the PBS clips of O'Neal, it may have been more powerful for King to just end it and let the enormity of what we've watched sink in. It's not a big debit, but sometimes the story has to stand for itself, and if you've succeeded, viewers won't be able to run fast enough to any available resource to explore the background.

More than anything else, Judas and the Black Messiah becomes about balancing the perspectives and movitations of its two main characters. Faced with what must have seemed like an agonizing choice, O'Neal made the wrong one, and many suffered from it. He also had Mitchell superficially propping him up and drawing false equivalencies to get what he wanted out of him. Whether O' Neal "sold out" or was taken advantage of, the end result's unchanged. And eventually upon realizing he couldn't live with himself, he administered the harshest form of self-justice. Ultimately, hate still lives to see another day and a more than a few decades, while senselessly adding these two casualties in the process.    

Sunday, May 12, 2019

Vice



Director: Adam McKay
Starring: Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Steve Carell, Sam Rockwell, Tyler Perry, Alison Pill, Lily Rabe, Jesse Plemons, Justin Kirk, Shea Whigham
Running Time: 132 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Whenever a biopic is released on a controversial public figure from either past or present, our favorite conversation is restarted about how fair and accurate the treatment of said subject will be. Strangely enough, the more polarizing they are, the higher standard the filmmakers seem to be held to. Will it be a hatchet job or an overly sympathetic portrayal that humanizes their irredeemable actions? Maybe a balanced mix of both? Depending upon who you ask, Steve Jobs was either vilified as a soulless monster in Danny Boyle's Jobs or was let off the hook too easily. Mark Zuckerberg was a meglomaniacal antisocial parasite in The Social Network, or if you prefer, simply a shy, ambitious genius who developed a web site to impress a girl. Oliver Stone's W., signaled what many believed was the neutering of a once great filmmaker who failed to go for the jugular in depicting a ripe for skewering Bush 43 as he exited office. Now, writer/director Adam McKay makes up for that with Vice, a movie unlikely to spark any of those conversations since he leaves so little room for debate about how Bush's V.P., Dick Cheney, should be viewed.

On an evilness scale, Vice's rendering of Cheney lands somewhere between Hitler and Darth Vader, with a little Grinch thrown in for good measure. Without holding back, McKay unloads on his target with a contempt only momentarily tempered by his excursions into satiric silliness that end up making Cheney look that much worse by mocking him. And like his simarly topical The Big Short, it's done in trademark McKay style, jumping back and forth through time, breaking the third wall, and telling as much as it's showing. From a cinematic standpoint, it's a total mess, with a few endings too many and a tendency to treat its audience like simpletons.

For those who already despise Cheney, this preaches to the choir, even if those on the fence will gladly jump on the bandwagon once they get the film's take on what he's done. His supporters will be fuming, citing it as the latest example of the Hollywood liberal elite run amok. And they're not necessarily wrong, since this is about as one-sided an attack as it gets. But boy is it entertaining, taking risks few political dramas or comedies have attempted, much less gotten away with. It doesn't all connect, but when it does, it's pretty vicious. 

Pinning down exactly when the story of Dick Cheney (Christian Bale) begins and ends is no easy task, but it speaks volumes that one of the the first glimpses we get of the future Vice President is as a young man drunkenly stumbling out of his car after being pulled over by Wyoming police in 1963. The journey that takes him from that moment to the brief opening scene of him responding to the 9/11 attacks can be traced back to his relationship with power-hungry wife, Lynn (Amy Adams), the mastermind behind his eventual ascent.

It's Lynn's ultimatum toYale dropout Dick to shape up or get out that leads him to D.C.,working as an intern for outspoken economic advisor Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carrell) in the Nixon administration. After Watergate and Nixon's resignation, Cheney rises to the position of Chief of Staff under President Ford, then as Secretary of Defense under Bush 41. Heart problems and a stint as Halliburton C.E.O. come after, and while the movie makes it very clear that his story could have easily ended there, it doesn't. His most infamous chapter follows with a stint as Vice President to George W. Bush (Sam Rockwell), leading to Cheney's emergence as a manipulative Washington puppet master. With his tentacles extending to even the most controversial foreign policy decisions and in worsening health, he covertly spearheads an administration many believe left a trail of death and destruction in its wake.   

While it's all a bit too much to take in with McKay rarely bothering to even feign any sense of objectivity in delivering what often plays as Oliver Stone and Michael Moore's cinematic love child, it's at least tied together by an undeniably fascinating and controversial idea. The Unitary Executive Theory is the principle by which Cheney seems to live and breathe, and is firmly rooted in the belief that the President is invested with the power to control the entire executive branch. If some believe should be a limit or check on the extent of it, Cheney's not one of them, and in carrying out the duties of the Vice Presidency, he demonstrates what can happen when you extend that constitutional theory as far as possible, then wield it like a club. After stretches of cloaking every event of the script in this power-hungry outlook, it becomes clear that McKay wants you to believe Cheney's tenure as Vice, his marriage, ambitions, relationship with his daughters, and ultimately, his life, are all driven by this conceit.

McKay unequivocally succeeds at depicting this worldview, while also making excellent use of an unknown narrator named Kurt (Jesse Plemons), who we're told has some kind of relationship to Cheney that's cleverly kept under wraps until the film's final minutes, paying off in a major way. Some may find that to be the story's real hook, if not for Bale's rightfully heralded performance, which manages to do something the film itself only rarely manages to: humanize him. And simultaneously demonize him. With a massive weight gain and prosthetics, he not only looks the part (complete with a scary facial resemblance), but really understands it, even in places where the screenplay seems to be mocking every facet of his ideology.

Bale conveys this urgency in the man to plow forward because somewhere along the way, be it from Rumsfeld or his wife, it was drilled into him that history is written by the winners. This path replaces alcohol as his addiction, but like most, he's only as good or bad as who's surrounding him. While it's become sort of a running joke to guess which supporting role Amy Adams will be annually nominated for and lose, her work as Lynn Cheney ranks amongst the strongest in that regard, kind of an expanded version of the ice cold character she played opposite Philip Seymour Hoffman in The Master, albeit even more outrightly devious and controlling. In other words, she's living proof that behind every successful man is a woman. And the (fantasy?) scene where they recite Shakespeare to each other is really a keeper.

Despite earning a nomination himself for this, Sam Rockwell provides what essentially amounts to amounts to an SNL characterization of George W. Bush. Whether or not that's McKay's intention (and it's easy to believe so), it might be the only element in the film that plays as an all-out comedic farce. Depicting Bush 43 a moronic bumbling drunk who can't spell his own name or tie his shoes is undeniably low-hanging fruit, but it also seems very dated, more in line with something we'd see on some sketch show a decade prior. Is that the point? Either way, it begs the question of what time and distance has done to our percetion of his Presidency. Often, it's tough to tell if the movie's in on its own jokes or not, as Rockwell's portrayal is basically everything Josh Brolin resisted doing in W. 

Less broadly comedic is Carell's performance as Donald Rumsfeld, who ends up as kind of a tragic figure of sorts after his maniacal mentoring of Cheney. A little goofy, but smart and impulsive, Carell strikes just the right chord, making you wish he had an even more screen time. Tyler Perry shows up as Colin Powell, an uncredited Naomi Watts cameos as a FOX News-like anchor, along with nearly half a dozen "blink and you'll miss it" appearances from various actors as figures like Gerald Ford, Condoleezza Rice, Henry Kissinger and Roger Ailes.

If there were any lingering doubts as to how you're supposed to feel about Dick Cheney, McKay very proudly posts his reminders at every turn that you better hate him! And if you don't, he'll make sure you will by the time Vice ends. Unfortunately, that end point isn't exactly clear since a moment arrives late in the third act that seems to signal a perfectly logical conclusion, yet he keeps going, missing the opportunity to close on a single, powerful image that perfectly encapsulates his subject's life.

Even after an ailing Cheney is fighting to take his last breath due to heart problems and waiting on an eleventh hour miracle, the movie manages to get more shots in. Is this supposed to be the most one-sided of poltical takedowns? Or is it a spoof of one-sided political takdowns? We may never know, but with Cheney's legacy sealed, he gets a film as messy, muddled and confounding as he is, succeeding most at turning him into a bigger showman than he could have ever hoped to be.

Saturday, July 7, 2018

Game Night



Directors: John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein
Starring: Jason Bateman, Rachel McAdams, Kyle Chandler, Billy Magnussen, Sharon Horgan, Lamorne Morris, Kylie Bunbury, Jesse Plemons, Michael C. Hall, Danny Huston, Chelsea Peretti
Running Time: 100 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Getting a big boost from a clever script that takes some unexpectedly twisted and darkly inspired turns, it's unlikely anyone would walk away from Game Night dissatisfied. And that's exactly how it should be. While this doesn't reinvent the comedy wheel, it  accomplishes what few recent comedies have in delivering a fun time without being burdened by qualifiers that it's overlong or makes boneheaded decisions along the way. Carried by a ridiculously talented cast, it takes a reasonably high concept comedic premise and just runs with it, offering the reassurance that everyone involved knows exactly what they're doing. As it turns out, they do.

When super-competitive gamers Max (Bateman) and Annie (Rachel McAdams) meet during trivia night at a bar, it's love at first sight, as the two begin dating and then marry, bonding over their shared obsession with winning. This is exemplified by their traditional weekend "game night" with friend Ryan (Billy Magnussen) and spouses Kevin (Lamorne Morris) and Michelle (Kylie Bunbury). Excluded is creepy, socially awkward cop next door, Gary (Jesse Plemons), who's been uninvited from the festivities ever since his wife left him and is desperately looking to get back in. But when Max's extremely successful and charming brother Brooks (Kyle Chandler) reappears on the scene, it causes his lifelong feelings of inadequacy (as well as his inability to conceive a child with Annie) to bubble to the surface.

Looking to once again show up Max, Brooks plans to take game night to a whole new level, staging an elaborate interactive role-playing mystery at his new pad that the participants won't soon forget. The winning prize: His Corvette Stingray. But when things get out of hand, and the line separating what's a game and an actual kidnapping starts to blur, the players must band together to save Brooks and somehow find a way to escape with their lives intact.

What makes all of this work is its premise, or rather co-directors John Francis Daley (best known for playing Sam on Freaks and Geeks) and Jonathan Goldstein's commitment to keeping the characters and viewers in the dark about what's happening. There are moments in the script where you confidently assume the unfolding events have to be "part of the game," yet you're still not completely sure. The uneasiness surrounding that, and each of the major players' reactions to the escalating crisis, permeate every scene, making for some great comedic exchanges.

Each character seems to have a relatable quirk that's exploited with every catastrophe, allowing the night's "mystery" to act as the perfect platform for their faults. The movie wastes no time, from an ingenious board game-style opening credit sequence that lets us know everything about Max and Annie within minutes, leading right into the "game night" concept. He's insecure. She's hyper-competitive. Brooks is an attention whore so in love with himself that this interactive mystery theater could only be his idea. And with the arrival an "FBI Agent" at the door, we're off to the races.

If you're searching for a comedic or dramatic actor who makes everything around him better by simply being there and logically, matter-of-factly existing as a surrogate voice for the audience, few are better than the largely unheralded Jason Bateman. And you could argue none are as reliable, knowing when you see his name atop the credits he'll deliver exactly what you want and expect, regardless of whether the project itself happens to disappoint. And it definitely doesn't here. Of course, the argument against him is that he always plays the same put-upon straight man. Aside from that being entirely disproven with darker turns in The Gift, Disconnect and his recent best ever work in Netflix's Ozark, I'd still argue variations of that lane is all he needs since it's such an easily adaptable one across all genres.

Bateman's normalcy makes those around him seem scarier, funnier and more entertaining than they would have otherwise been opposite someone else. Ceding the spotlight so co-stars can reap the rewards, no one can look as befuddled, grimace in disgust or dryly deliver a sarcastic dig quite like he can. If the quintessential small screen example of his comedic skills are are found in Arrested Development, then Game Night might stand as his best recent big screen offering of it.

Nearly every sub-plot and one-liner lands, logically furthering a plot that's probably better mapped out that it had any right being. While it's arguable the mere casting of Bateman and Chandler as feuding brothers is enough to carry this, it's surprising how many other elements click into place and manage to play just as well. If only occasionally given the chance to show it in other projects, Rachel McAdams can be devastatingly funny when she needs to be and here she's given the opportunity opposite Bateman to utilize that timing. They bounce off each other so well that they're the rare screen couple that are even funnier when they're in total agreement because their personalities are so competitively obnoxious, yet strangely compatible. They play the whole thing straight, forging forward to win despite obvious signs this isn't a game. Or is it? To these two everything may as well be, which make them the perfect victims/players.   

Even running, throwaway gags like Kevin's unhealthy obsession with guessing the identity of Michelle's secret celebrity hookup and the airheaded Ryan wising up and bringing his super-intelligent ringer date, Sarah (Sharon Horgan) into the game, not only provide a decent amount of laughs, but result in extremely satisfying payoffs that enhance the characters. But the character who makes the most impact and sends the the film's entertainment quotient through the roof is Jesse Plemons' creep cop neighbor, Gary, whose obsession with his ex-wife and her "game night" friends make everyone within his vicinity deeply uncomfortable.

Plemons plays this perfectly, which is to say deadly serious, as if he's Hannibal Lecter wondering why no one's invited him to dinner. Just watching the other actors' react to this is a treat in itself, as everything from his stilted body language to monotone delivery imply a complete sociopath. He completely and unflinchingly commits to it, and the film is all the better as a result. While for many there's a certain level of anticipation in seeing Friday Night Lights alum Plemons reunited with Coach Taylor, he and Chandler share maybe about two scenes together. But it's the latter scene in the third act that will grab the most attention because it's just so completely insane. It isn't often you can say you've seen Chandler, Plemons, Bateman and Michael C. Hall all share the screen together at one time and have it exceed even the wildest of expectations.

It's nice to see a comedy that's as smart as the actors appearing in it since the last one to reach that lofty goal was Shane Black's criminally overlooked The Nice Guys. This isn't quite as laugh-out-loud hilarious and subversively clever as that effort, but it succeeds just the same for what it's aiming for. While there likely will be a sequel looming on the horizon, the idea of this concept being expanded isn't something I'd necessarily roll my eyes at provided it's done right and reunites the cast and creative forces that made this work so well. It isn't often you can say a big, mainstream comedy is even worth the trouble of revisiting, but another Game Night actually doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

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.