The Best TV is Better Than The Best Film.

With True Detective and now Fargo, TV's the place for top-notch, effective story telling. It used to be that film is where one went to see something interesting, innovative and inspiring-not any more. TV played it mainly safe to appeal to the largest audience. Why do people still watch Two and Half Men? Now films seem to do this and focus on spectacle sans story. Not that spectacle is a bad thing, but it is not interesting storytelling.  I'll take True Detective and Fargo over X-Men or Transformers any day.

Of course, there are some interesting things happening in film, but those are few and far between. This summer (2014) has yet to offer any interesting in film--well, at least those that I  have seen. But TV continues with excellent shows. Indeed, there are so many good ones, it is hard to keep up. I have yet to catch up with Mad Men, for example.

The short anthology and TV series offers its creator much more space to tell his/her story. So here's to the great shows on TV that have used the larger canvass to great effect: Breaking Bad, True Detective and Fargo to name a few that leap to mind. I should include Game of Thrones, too. Imagine if GoT was shoe-horned into three or four or even five films like Harry Potter of The Hunger Games? It simply won't work as well. 

Review of Walking Dead Season Two: Survival of the fittest

There are two persistent complaints about season two of The Walking Dead: Hershel’s farm and a paucity of ‘walkers.’ Neither complaint seems appropriate to me. The main criticism that I level toward season two is the inability of the characters to recognize the threat they are in and do what should be abundantly clear—team up. However, this is not to say the season did not entertain; it did. It is not to suggest that the season failed. It was a good season, and season three promises more success.

The season begins effectively with “What Lies Ahead.” The answer to “what lies ahead” reveals a bleak, harsh world that has little room for compassion, cooperation and essentially civility. The group travels along a clogged highway and eventually is forced to stop. The aftermath of the zombie apocalypse is well established in this scene.  Cars clog the highway and dead bodies, people who have met a terrible death, rot inside.

A herd of ‘walkers’ happens upon the group despite vigilant surveillance by Dale from his RV rooftop. This scene strains believability, but it does lead to an intense situation that propels the second season forward. 

Rick quickly alerts the group to scramble underneath the cars to avoid the ‘walkers.” This plan works until, Sophia, Carol’s 12-year old daughter, scrambles out before the last of the ‘walkers’ have shuffled by.  She is chased into the nearby woods by two ‘walkers’ followed by Rick. The first half of the season focuses on finding her and establishing the harsh, cold reality of this world.  

The situation with Sophia as well as the first scene in the pilot establish that nothing, even innocent children, are safe.  Typically, television shows don’t threaten children; it is simply too unpleasant and distasteful to imperil innocent children. Not so here.  

Another theme emerges with much more import in this episode and continues through Hershel’s world view—religion’s diffidence coupled with one’s reconciliation to this reality. While the group scours the countryside searching for Sophia, they stumble across a church. 

Inside the parishioners, instead of having their prayers answered, have transformed into ‘walkers.’  As they shuffle out of the pews into the nave to eat the fresh human food, Rick, Shane and Daryl, kill them with extreme prejudice. The camera cuts to a crucified Jesus, speckled with blood from his crown of thrones as members viciously hack the skulls of the dead.  The group looks toward the image of Christ and several offer prayers. None of them are answered.  Most notably, Rick’s, as he asks for a sign, some help to lead, and promptly witnesses his son shot in the very next scene. This recurring scenario occurs throughout the season—one’s expectations of hope dashed into abject horror.  

The farmer owner and patriarch Hershel revives the notion of religion still having some import in this world. He essentially sees the ‘walkers’ as sick and confides to Rick that eventually a cure will be developed. He views the current apocalypse as nothing more than nature correcting itself, and that balance will be restored; in short, part of God’s master plan. His is remarkably caviler as he articulates his point. However, Hershel’s faith is disabused by the end of season two. After he narrowly escapes the swarm of ‘walkers’ flooding his farm, he tells Rick, in a state of shock and incredulity, that when Jesus promised a resurrection of the dead, he thought it meant something different.  This is perhaps the best line of the series. Hershel is hardly a religious man as season two ends and given that no one’s prayers are answered, the show has a decidedly agnostic world view—it’s ‘survival of fittest.’

When Sophia stumbles out of the barn a ‘walker’ and Rick steps forward to shoot the child-zombie in the forehead, we clearly understand that with the exception of one character, Rick, no one is safe. The title even seems to mock the idea of Sophia surviving--“Pretty Much Dead Already.”  The scene also destroys Hershel’s faith.  

With some shows, we know that certain characters are not in jeopardy. Take True Blood, for example. While two main characters, Eric and Bill, are threatened with death if they fail a mission in a recent episode, we understand that the threat is idle. They won’t be killed, so we hardly care.  The Walking Dead creates consequences and amps the stakes up. Anyone can die, at any time, including children.

The threat to children is real in The Walking Dead.  So because there’s a serious threat to children then there’s a serious threat to humanity’s survival. Children, you have heard, are our future. Rick and Lori’s only child Carl is shot, and they debate if they should even try to save his life. The debate leads to a discussion about the type of world they think appropriate to live in. She further underscores the threat to humanity’s persistence with her pregnancy.  She contemplates aborting the child, but ultimately decides against it. Why should any couple bring new life into this world? Food for the ‘walkers’? 

The show provides juxtaposing viewpoints through two characters: Shane and Dale.  Dale represents the moral conscience of the show—the quaint notion of maintaining a sense of dignity and humanity in an otherwise stark world.  The group’s members find themselves along the continuum. Each eventually moves in one direction along it—away from Dale’s view and toward Shane’s, including Rick. 

Many found Dale’s position frustrating and hopelessly naive. I found Dale to articulate the most sensible and logical position. He argues throughout the series for civility and compassion—his impassioned defense against killing the interloper Randal demonstrates this.

Dale understands precisely what Rick does: working together with Hershel’s family on the farm is the best chance at not only survival but also ‘normalcy.’ Dale and Rick prefer cooperation with Hershel. But as the season ends, autocracy usurps cooperation—Rick’s in charge. 

Dale’s impassioned plea for Randal’s life falls on deaf hears, sans Andrea. (Andrea understands better than most, perhaps, the value of a second chance, though everyone in the group has had close calls.) And to make sure that Dale’s perspective finds little resonance moving forward, a ‘walker’ promptly eviscerates him shortly after giving his speech for civility. Dale’s position is rejected by the group and consequentially the show’s world view generally. 

On the other hand, Shane embodies ‘survival of the fittest.’ His callous killing of Otis establishes that for Shane, it’s kill or be killed. Shane believes he can do what it takes to survive—this includes killing innocent people. Shane has little patience for Dale and even Rick as they operate from a different paradigm. Shane would likely slay Hershel and commandeer the farm if it were his choice.

It is, however, the disharmony caused by Shane that ultimately spells doom for establishing a family life on Hershel’s farm. The warring alpha males, patrol partners, and life-long friends simply fail work harmoniously. The show then forwards the assumption that humans, especially males, simply can’t get along. One must be in charge and everyone else his submissive. The assumption colors the characters and their choices, but it is a world view that scarcely finds challengers.

Certainly, this idea has merit, as one looks through human history and locates spectacular and cruel conflicts. But one would be negligent not to point out human’s harmonious existence. Humans cooperate with each other and have cooperated with each other forever. In fact, were it not for our ability to cooperate, it is likely we would not have persisted. Why, then, does the show prefer to eschew harmony for survival of the fittest? Narrative conflict? 

When Rick stabs his best friend, Shane, the event for the roaming herd of ‘walkers’ to overwhelm the farm is initiated. The herd would have shuffled by the farm had Rick and Shane been able to work out their differences. There would have been no need for Carl to shoot the zombified Shane drawing the attention of the herd.  

The show kills off both Dale and Shane, and their juxtaposing positions, too. However, as season two concludes, Rick establishes authoritarianism over the group. By killing Shane, Rick becomes more like him in a sense. So while Rick may have a gentler hand in administrating his authority, Shane’s orientation to The Walking Dead world is confirmed.  

It is not all doom and gloom; there is a little sliver of hope.  Lori’s pregnancy offers this—can humanity survive? Of course, we don’t know if the child is healthy and “normal”; in other words, not a ‘walker.’ The other note of hope comes via the helicopter. 

The helicopter has appeared twice in the series: once in season one and once in season two. This suggests that some form of an organized government might still remain. If there is, then perhaps there is a safe and secure life awaiting the group. We’ll have to wait and see, but I think not.

Walking Dead Season One Review

If there is one persistent complaint regarding season one of The Walking Dead, it is truncation.  At only six episodes, the first season felt incomplete.  It does end on an interesting cliffhanger, but it ends just as we are getting to know the characters. 

The first two episodes of season one are the best: “Days Gone By” and “Guts.” Perhaps it was because they were part supposed to be part of one episode-the pilot- but later converted into two episodes to develop the characters.  

 

Glen and Rick Olfactory Camouflage

“Days Gone By” is the title of the pilot and it starts off familiarly, familiar to those who have seen the excellent zombie movie 28 Days Later. Rick Grimes, the main character, awakens in a hospital room to a vastly different world than he knew prior. The beginning echoes 28 Days Later, as that is precisely how the story is introduced. However, this is not a distraction as the series quickly develops its own world and plot. 

What is effective about the pilot is that we are introduced to this world as Rick is. He walks out of his room to a ransacked hospital with a room chained shut at the end of the hallway. A pallid hand pokes through the cracks between the chained doors with the words “Don’t Open. Dead Inside” scrawled across it. Very ominous. 

The sense of foreboding continues as Rick leaves the hospital to find stacks of piled bodies.   He sees the half body of a zombie reaching toward him while lying on the grass. The decay is advance so that it is difficult to determine its gender.  Fans of the Webisodes, which are set during the same time, focus on just what happened to her. Titled “Torn Apart” they show just how bleak and depressing this world is.  If you have not checked them out, you should. The Webisodes are quite good. 

Eventually, Rick finds a father, Morgan, and his son, Duane, who essentially save his life by bringing him up to speed as to what has occurred during Rick’s month-long hospital stay as he fought through coma.  They hold up in their house. 

The episode is often quiet as it allows the tension to build.  The series generally does not rely on cheap gimmicks to generate suspense.  Typically, in horror fiction there are several ‘startling’ scenes.  The scene begins quietly, and then a sudden shrieking noise coupled with something jumping out from off-camera, something we have not been privileged to see, into full screen. This is lazy horror fiction and The Walking Dead does not succumb to it.  

So when Rick, still clinging to a world he used to know, decides to travel to Atlanta finds his wife and son, Morgan’s words portend terrible things: “They may not seem like much at one time, but in a group, all riled up and hungry? Man, you watch your ass.” Rick lacks the complete understanding of the threat. As he and we find out, going anywhere where large populations of people lived is a bad idea. 

The emptiness of a large metropolis, in this case Atlanta, unsettles as he rides a horse into it.  The emptiness is eerie and leads to the pilot’s conclusion.  Suddenly surrounded by a mob of “walkers,” Rick barely escapes. Luckily, he scrambles under a tank and inside before the mob consumes him.  

The pilot ends with someone calling Rick inside the tank.  Someone calls him and asks if he’s okay. We learn that a show regular, Glen, contacts him. He essentially reaches out to assist. Whether one should do the “right” thing and help others is a recurring theme in the series. The idea is repeatedly challenged as helping others threatens the group.  

But Rick is saved and in episode two “Guts” Rick becomes part of the group that he eventually leads.  The group had gone into Atlanta to scavenge for supplies and see Rick. They are held-up in a department store. 

One of the first things Rick needed to do within the group is assert his dominance.  A fight between two group members, between T-Dog and Merle, leads to Rick chaining Merle to a pipe. The scene illustrates that not only can Rick take control over situations, but also that the people who have survived languish in their own stupidity—in this case exemplified by Merle’s racism.

It is hard to understand maintaining racist beliefs in a world such as the group inhabits.  Here the notion that the threat is not just from the zombies but from surviving humans filters into the series. Indeed, as hints of season three suggest and comments from the producer indicate; it is the threat from humans that will take center stage.

The escape from the department store, how they decided to execute the plan, is one of the best scenes in the show. Taking a “terminated walker” the group hacks him up to pieces.  They smear the walker’s guts, and body parts all over Glen and Rick. This gruesome scene suggests just where the show’s producers are willing to go. It has to be one of the most disgusting scenes on television. It is putrid, but awesome too. 

The “guts” covered men then slip out of the store and into the streets where thousands of ‘walkers” mill about looking to eat anything. The conceit here is that live humans smell differently than dead ones and the “walkers” can smell the difference. 

There are several problems with this, like if walkers can smell, can they taste? So they must breath to get oxygen into the bloodstream? So can they be smothered to death or drown? How do their olfactory senses working exactly, if they are dead? But no matter because thinking about the “mechanics” of a “walker” leads to dissonance. 

Of course, the group makes it out, but forgets the chained up racist Merle. Future episodes lead the group to attempt to retrieve him, but he had already severed off his hand to escape the hoard of zombies that had broken through the department store’s doors. 

The episodes that lead to the finale serve to introduce characters and solidify the world that the group find themselves in. Rick, in an unbelievable bout of luck, becomes reunited with his wife, son and best friend, Shane, who had been sleeping with his wife Lori. One can hardly blame them, as they thought Rick was dead. 

Episode four, Vatos, introduces another group of survivors, but does not, at least, in season two, return to them.  These survivors are protecting a nursing home. The scene simply feels random, but perhaps that is the point.  Perhaps, there will be random groups of survivors that the group interfaces with and no more. Rick, still clinging to the notion of helping others, leaves the group some guns.

The rest of the group, hidden in the woods, comes under attack by the ‘walkers.’  Rick and his posse return just in time, but not before several members are killed.  Here we are introduced into how a person turns into a zombie. 

One of the show’s recurring characters, Andrea, faces the reality of watching a family member “turn.” The show never loses focus of the humanity and strain the characters are under and the scene with Andrea and his sister, Amy, illustrate this.

Amy has been killed in the attack, and everyone knows that she will “turn.” The only question is when. While other members want to shoot her again in the head and burn here, Andrea wants to do ‘right’ by her sister.  The show often juxtaposes these ideas.

 

For example, another group member, Jim, is bitten.  His fate is sealed; he will turn into a zombie and threaten the group. What should they do?  Kill him? Live him? Tough decisions.

The finale is effective as Rick leads the group back, incredulously, to Atlanta to the CDC.  Rick’s head is still clearly in the “old world” and believes there must be something still functioning normally.  

While Rick’s leadership here proves correct—one lone scientist—allows them into the seemingly secure CDC facility.  The group showers, gets drunk and eats: a brief moment of pleasure in a series that has been relentlessly bleak.  However, this respite is short lived. 

The scientist eventually tells the group everything he knows and the information is not in any way comforting. Indeed, he has decided to commit suicide by allowing CDC facility to blow-up. He offers the group the same opportunity. The blast will be painless and quick. Who wants to live in this world? This is an interesting question and one not so easily dismissed.  Some stay and others don’t.  We are invited to consider the same. Is living the only thing or does how one lives and in what capacity factor into the choice?

Welcome To The Tombs: Walking Dead Review 3:16

“Welcome To The Tombs” the finale of season three’s The Walking Dead ends on an optimistic note. This is unusual for a show that revels in the harsh realities of a post-apocalyptic world, where one survival ethic is “Kill or Be Killed.” And while each narrative thread was not neatly tied up, it was still a good finale to a season that had its ups and downs.

The episode opens with the Governor beating a poor, hapless Milton. His vestige of human dignity and decency leads to his torture, much like Andrea’s predicament does. The Governor tells Milton: “You kill or you die; or you die and you kill.” The Governor’s plan to have Milton kill Andrea created the best tension of the episode, though like “Prey” employed some standard tropes.

The Governor simply leaves a mortally wounded Milton to eventually die then reanimate to attack Andrea thereby killing her. The trope is the assumption that it will all go to plan, and in this case it does, though often in horror films, the plan fails and the victim escapes. I thought she would escape. At least, I did not think the mild-mannered Milton, even in zombie form, would kill Andrea. Ah, but The Walking Dead protects few of its characters (Rick and Carl are the only safe ones I think) and so Andrea’s stupid toes fail her. In addition to stock piling food, weapons, et al. for the zombie apocalypse, one should apparently practice grasping tools with one’s toes. Andrea does not have monkey feet, and it leads to her death.

Both Andrea and Milton represent humanity’s persistent compassion and decency even in the face of the bleak and harsh reality they find themselves in.
These qualities lead to direct conflict with the Governor’s more nefarious idea of killing most of the humans he encounters. The show’s characters continue to wrestle with these precepts and often pay for them with their lives. The finale offered no resolution to these warring notions.

The final scene with Andrea explains some of her behavior throughout the season. Her sentimental notion of “trying to save everyone” seems consistent and appropriate to her character. And she almost achieves her objective, for without her, Rick would not have bussed Woodbury’s too-unfit-for-combat back to the prison to join his group. (I wondered why he didn’t just take over Woodbury, though. It seems as safe as and much more comfortable than the prison.) With Michonne beside her, Andrea ends her life. It was the emotional weight of the episode and the connection to the title “Welcome To The Tombs.” Okay “tombs” is plural, so Milton and the other innocent victims also harken the title.

Finally some battle plans and excellent execution of them. The colossal and spectacular defeat of the Governor is not on par with say, the Battle of Thermopylae, where the Spartans defeated a much larger Persian army, but it was still pretty damn cool. The Governor is clearly a psychopath, who likes to inflict pain and kill people (important qualities in war) but his skills as a military strategist are suspect to say the least.

The frontal assault on the prison reveals his poorly developed plan. His group easily gains entry into the prison and helps clear the yard of walkers. Exploding zombies is always fun viewing. That was nice of them. His attack could not have been more conspicuous. As the Woodbury militia push through the prison, the tension amped up creating exciting TV. This scene along with Milton’s slow reanimation juxtaposed with Andre’s well-manicured, but clumsy little piggy toes (er, she has two left feet—bad, I know but couldn’t resist) generated some serious tension. Of course, she must drop the pliers as Milton’s hand spasms to life. Oh no, get the plies! Cutting to a view outside the door so that we do not know what happens was an interesting choice. The screams and blood spooling from under the door reveals the outcome, we later learn. Can anyone survive in the zombie apocalypse that actually is decent and caring?

The Governor’s inability to accept defeat and relent underscores his dislocation from reality. It leads to his brutal execution of his own people, underscoring his unvarnished psychopathy. The Governor simply can’t handle insubordination and unravels. A shocking scene in a series that must work hard to shock; I did not see that coming. There can be no redemption for him. Still at large, the Governor with his two terrified lieutenants is one of the narrative threads that I thought would find closure. I guess we have to cheer his death next season. I don’t think he will live long in season four, but he may take out a few of Rick’s growing group and former Woodburians before he goes.

Carl becomes a mini-Shane. His back-and-white view of the world accords well with a kid’s perception and frankly makes some sense. He guns down one of Woodbury’s members in a cold-blooded manner his father would never approve of or do himself. Not like father not like son. When Rick later confronts his son about the murder, Carl essentially chastises and dismisses his father. He accuses his father of being weak and threating the group because he fails to kill outsiders. Carl sounds like the Governor. Not a positive development. This must sting, so Rick’s decision to add members to his prison group has as much to do with Carl and his alarming worldview than it does with Rick’s charity and decency. Carl clearly is not happy with his father’s decision. But that’s what parenting is all about in the end. Father knows best. It also suggests that Andrea’s attempt to save “everyone” was not in vain and that not everyone is a cold-hearted bastard.

The season finale was good even if it left some things unresolved. In a non-traditional show, I find this expectation-defying end appropriate and effective. However, I hope next season provides more character development as show creator Robert Kirkman has suggested it would. Until then, I will practice grasping things with my feet.

Prometheus Review

Prometheus, the new movie from Riddle Scott, has a lot going on. It’s kind of a sequel to his 1979 film Alien, but not entirely; it takes place in the same time, and supplies some clues as to the origins of the “alien” creature that bursts out of the stomachs its “hosts,” but not much more. It also is no less concerned with the very origins of humanity. Where did we come from? Who did we get here? Who made us? With these expansive and weighty themes, I was remind of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey and even last year’s provocative Tree of Life from Terrance Malick—films which explore the genesis of life on earth and our position relative to it. Like those films, Prometheus examines these notions in a marvelously shot and well-crafted visual story in a swiftly moving plot. Indeed, the plot can move too quickly at times. The film begins, we assume, on Earth but exactly when is not clear—the future or the past? A hairless, pale but absurdly buff—it reminded me of Doctor Manhattan from the Watchmen film sans the blue hue and pupil-less eyes—is deposited by a space ship next to a raging waterfall. He drinks something and in one of the many excellent special effects, we follow the ‘substance’ into the body as it breaks down his cells and DNA. The ‘man’ falls into the waterfall and essentially disintegrates. One assumption is that his DNA results in the life forming here on earth. Of course, this is a supposition as the film does not explicitly indicate such. Cut to 2089 and a cave in Ireland. Scientists have discovered cave drawings depicting people pointing to the stars. Not that unusual, you think. The two main scientists (Charlie Holloway and Elizabeth Shaw played by Logan Marshal-Green and Noomi Rapace respectively) have pulled together various drawings, some separated by millenniums, to arrive at a simple premise: we are being invited to visit. How cave drawings can pinpoint precisely where in the vastness of space is a bit more questionable and the film really does not want to get bogged down with that. At times, the film does push believability too far, but not nearly as far as, say the absurd Avengers film. Next the film cuts to the spaceship Prometheus, as we meet David, the android, played by Michael Fassbender. As the human crew travels in “stasis,” David monitors the ship, watches both Lawrence of Arabia film and the crew’s dreams. In particular, David attempts to mimic Peter O’Toole’s character, T.E. Lawrence. Creepy, eh? Fasseinder’s portrayal of the android fascinates and repels. As the movie develops, suspicion regarding David’s loyalty naturally arises. I say naturally, because if science fiction films have taught us anything, androids are not be trusted as they often have nefarious intentions—even though they are not supposed to have interests. One of the many “minor” conflicts the movie develops occurs between David and the ship’s corporate overseer, Meredith Vickers, played by Charlize Theron. Her and our suspicions are confirmed as David seems to be pursuing his own agenda, even going so far as to “infect” one of the crew. He provides the skills necessary for the crew to “find” the source of the artificial structure and the paintings. Once the ship arrives and begins to explore a large, artificial structure, all hell breaks loose and the film moves quickly. Inside the structure, the crew apparently triggers a “defense” mechanism and ooze starts dripping from the pods, we learn later are destined for Earth to, I guess, transform the population. Additionally, David furtively brings back pod from the structure and hatches a plan to hasten things along. Here the plot becomes a bit convoluted but no matter, since the ride is rather fun. The team returns to the ship, the mystery begins to unravel and the realities of the “cave drawing” prove to be invitations to humanity’s destruction. They were just waiting for us to show them the way back to our nice planet. But why do our creators want to kill us? Not sure, perhaps that’s coming in the sequels. The film wrestles with big ideas and does so in a taut, energetic fashion. The film is interesting and good summer fun. While it is not as strong as the original Alien, not close to being as suspenseful and intense, this film has its own intense scenes. The best of these scenes centers on Dr. Shaw as she performs self-surgery to remove something from her stomach. This draws obvious parallels to the original film’s best scene-the baby alien bursting from John Hurt’s stomach. The trope is maintained here, but imagined differently. That Shaw can run around after the operation strains credulity, but that can be overlooked. Prometheus maintains other tropes too: being an android can make one lose one’s head, for example. Overall, Prometheus does not easily offer up a clear, resolved conclusion. One has to work at it a bit and many don’t like working when seeing a film. The ending does offer some idea as to the genesis of the alien creature that will plague a resolute Ripley in the years to come and how it’s so damn strong. However other aspects still remain unclear. For example, aside from Dr. Shaw, Vickers makes it “out” and onto the planet during the film’s frenetic third act. The film suggests that she is killed by the falling alien spacecraft, but it is not explicitly stated. One is left to wonder. Further, is Vickers really human or is she an alien. And did I mention that her “father,” Peter Weyland, played by a barely recognizable Guy Pierce, funds the entire one trillion dollar expedition. Think Howard Hughes here. So while the film has a lot going on and the plot seems a little unclear, the film still is quite strong and effective: the visuals, the acting, the special effects and even the grandiosity of the story are all worth the time.

Analysis of Episode 5 “Shotgun”; or the hubris of Walter White

A few glasses of wine and Walter White successfully put Hank back on “his” trail in the firth episode of season four “Shotgun.” The scene is astounding given that Hank believed Heisenberg to be Gale and thus dead. Walter’s hubris, vanity and pride refuse to allow him to enjoy his wealth, however. Walter’s initial reason for getting “involved” was the money, but is not even a factor for him at this point. Indeed, Walter seems to be suffering from narcissistic personality disorder. I think this notion was established early on in the show, with Gretchen and Elliot—Walter’s grad school pals. It seems clear that it was Walter’s inflated sense of importance that ultimately ruined that relationship—both the personal and professional ones. Walter, like many tragic characters, makes decision that will destroy him, or I predict will as the show concludes.

Skylar must now understand, or should be putting the pieces together of just how close Hank is to “discovering” the “truth” of the Whites’ wealth. And the almost incredulous reason is simply because Walter can’t be the emasculated man. So with a belly full of wine, Walter suggests, as the two families eat dinner, that perhaps Gale is not the evil Heisenberg genius Hank describes him to be. Walter posits that perhaps, just perhaps, it was merely rote memorization, a mere facsimile of the true genius behind the chemical formula in that notebook, the key piece of evidence. Not only does Walter’s hubris refuse to allow Hank’s misapprehension to persist, but also Walter seems to enjoy alluding Hank’s pursuit. Walter likes the idea of his wits outmatching Hank and the law. Though Walter has serious threats to his life, he simply can’t allow. The irony is that the same, to a lesser degree, seems true for Hank.

Hank has been physically emasculated. Hanks physical limitation threatens his sense of worth, much the same way that Walter’s unacknowledged brilliant chemistry work, threatens his. Hank seemed to be recovering his masculinity in last week’s episode, but then it was squashed upon his discovery of what he believes to be Heisenberg death. Although Hank says that realization feels like “closure “and we assume thus a good thing, we don’t really believe Hank. So Hank has the drunken Walter to thank for helping him get his mojo back. Walter likes being pursued in this way by Hank. Walter has issues with Hank, expressed throughout the series in subtle and clear ways. I think part of Walter goading Hank to get back on the hunt, rests in Walter’s pride but also his desire to “outwit” Hank, the manly man’s man.

Further, this notion of masculinity, as I am defining here, plays out with Jesse as well. Jesse desires to be useful and important—like Walter. Gus understands this and so puts a plan into motion to generate some self-importance for Jesse. Jesse, after all, simply wants to be needed, accepted and loved. Propping Jesse up though to help him feel better about his manhood certainly isn’t Gus’s plan. At least, I don’t believe it to be part of the plan. Making Jesse feel important and vital seems likely to represent an affront to Walter and how he sees himself. Walter is no match for Gus.

An interesting aside: I wonder if the show’s writers knew this:
The Heisenberg uncertainty principle states precise inequalities that constrain certain pairs of physical properties, such as measuring the present position while determining future momentum of a particle. Both cannot be simultaneously done to arbitrarily high precision. In other words, the more precisely one property is measured, the less precisely the other can be controlled, determined, or known.

I’d say no question about it, as Walter’s chosen “handle” for himself, seems to reveal a facet of Walter’s situation. The more Walter tries to control the events around him, the less influence he has, just like the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.

Review of Breaking Bad: Thirty-Eight Snub

Episode Thirty-Eight Snub illustrates White’s his surprising stupidity fueled by his legitimate fear of Gus. The episode opens with Walter buying a 38-Special Snub revolver from an illegal gun dealer. Walter informs the surprising insightful dealer that the weapon is for “defense.” Walter says this several times as though he is convincing himself more than anything. I suppose Walt might believe in the familiar sporting maxim, “the best defense is a good offense.” He clearly has no intention of purchasing the weapon for defensive purposes; as he sees it, it’s him or Gus, pure and simple. The gun dealer (Lawson what an awesome name for an illegal gun dealer) is aware that something is amiss with the Walter’s explanation and approach. If Walter plans on being offensive, then he should opt for a different weapon. If the weapon is truly intended for self-defense, then going through legal channels makes far more sense, Lawson trenchantly points out. I really enjoyed this scene as it understands that while we, the ever-patient viewer, know Walter is a cold-blooded murder, to the rest of the world, he still looks like a chemistry teacher or something equally as innocuous.

But while Walter is clearly intelligent and seeming capable of self-effacement and reflection, he still behaves as though he has learned nothing from his experience in “drug world” and with “drug dealers.” After all, he and Jesse have had many “close calls.” So when Walter simply tries to walk up to Gus’s home, I suppose to gun him down in the doorway, I couldn’t help thinking “that is really stupid.” Can Walter really be that dumb as to think he can simply walk up to Gus’ house and simply shoot him down? His stupidity is demonstrated with banal subtly when he receives a call while walking up to Gus’s house. The voice, and I swear it was Gus, says “Go home, Walt.”

Walter’s paranoia still fuels an even more incredulous request concerning Mike the Cleaner. Walter tails Mike to a bar (not too well, Mike points out) and then attempts to recruit him. Again, Walt’s stupidity is so obvious in his recruitment pitch. Walter misreads Mike entirely. What does Walter know of the relationship between Mike and Gus? Nothing and Walter assumes, incorrectly, that Mike, after the throat-cutting scene in the prior episode, sees Gus as an unstable madman who will turn on his loyal employees without cause. Mike understands what lead to Gus killing Victor though Mike was clearly shocked, surprised and saddened by his untimely death—a death that was caused ultimately by Walter and Jesse.

The paranoia and shock still has Walter’s thinking addled and unclear. Walter’s behavior displays this, and I wonder how he can survive if he continues to brazenly threaten to kill a man, who could kill Walter without much problem whatsoever. Mike kicks his ass for suggesting he turn on his employer, and one can assume that Mike will relay this information along to Gus. Though Gus no doubt understands what Walter is up to. It seems as though Walter is no match for Gus. Walter has to be smarter than to let his emotions overrun his common sense but that’s what emotions do—overrun common sense. One wonders how the tension between Walter and Gus will be resolved. At some point, both Mike and Gus might get a little tired of Walter and his inept attempt to assassinate Gus. If some bumpkin was trying to kill you at every turn, after you made that person massively rich and after that same bumpkin has indirectly or directly caused the death of several loyal employees, how long would your patience extend? As Jesse might intone, “seriously.”

Jesse, on the other hand, deals with their predicament much differently. Constantly trying to distract himself—three-night party, booming stereo, taking drugs, etc.—Jesse also assuages his guilt by giving away a wad of cash to his erstwhile girlfriend, Andrea. The goal of the cash is more for her child, Brock, than for her. Jesse tells her to move out of the bad part of town. Jesse wants to provide the child a chance, and he knows that Brock has little chance living in the neighborhood that he lives in.

Jesse, as I have posited before, serves as the shows emotional and moral compass. So with his newfound wealth, Jesse does the noble thing—he tries to help out those in need. Jesse still maintains his sense of moral rectitude and even better acts on it. Despite being a killer and drug dealer, Jesse is a good man inside. In fact, the entire sticky situation the boys, Walter and Jesse, find themselves in finds its locus in Jesse’s sense of righteousness. It is Jesse who simply could not tolerate the idea of a child being used in to kill his friend, then as a result of his actions, actions which attempt to right the wrong, lead to the pathetic death of that child. Jesse tries upholding some semblance of moral righteousness and fails. At least fails that time, but he is determined to do the right thing.

The juxtaposition between Walter and Jesse—one perceived by society as a decent person, while the other viewed as a scourge as the show begins—demonstrates the most mundane and pedestrian of axioms: you can’t judge a book by its cover. I suspect that once we read Walter White's story, we may not like him much.