Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 5, Episode 4: "Fifty-One"

I’m not sure I liked Skyler’s (Anna Gunn) suicide attempt in the swimming pool as a story device. I know it’s meant to convey her sense of guilt and hopelessness, but the way it’s done seems almost soap opera melodramatic (I’ve heard it suggested that it wasn’t a true attempt but an act to call for help, which might be a little more believable). But I loved the plot turn it resulted in. It seemed for a while like Skyler was becoming just a passive, accepting career criminal’s wife, like Carmella Soprano. Opting to go in the opposite direction, to create a rift between her and Walt (Bryan Cranston,) made for more compelling drama and way, way more affecting character turns.

The scene between Walt and Skyler after her fateful dip—where she admits that she’s waiting for his cancer to come back—is brutal. No, Walt never lays his hands on her (though the anticipation that he might as he gets angrier makes the scene very tense), but every sentence between the two hits like an uppercut. Gunn is especially strong here, presenting Skyler as moral person who’s knowingly defeated, compromised, and out of options, but still willing to fight Walt and keep the kids away any way she can, even if it kills her. She's crossed several lines but firmly stops before she sinks to where she can't get out, unlike her husband who just kept going deeper. Walt, on the other hand, is clearly only fighting because someone is trying to take something from him.

You can chalk up Walt buying himself and Walter Jr. (RJ Mitte) new cars to ego or money getting the better of him. I actually did on my first viewing, but this time, I didn’t see it that way. Rather, I think Walt knew that his attempts to reach Skyler weren’t working, so this was his way of getting his son on his side. Telling Marie (Betsy Brandt) of Skyler’s affair last episode, making her look like the bad guy, was his way to win over Marie and Hank (Dean Norris).

Maybe he still loves his family deep down, but Walt’s scheme to force his way back into their lives seems more about winning, about beating someone who’s standing in his way. Doesn’t matter that that someone his wife, and that it’s making his children into sort of commodities. His Machiavellian ways remind me of a certain chicken restaurateur.

Skyler's a little underutilized this season, just moping around in fear and guilt before this episode and giving Walt disdainful looks afterward. But this is one of Gunn’s best single episodes on the show, and maybe the most emotionally intense moment of the Walter-Skyler dynamic.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 5, Episode 3: "Hazard Pay"

Montages aren’t necessarily bad devices in film or television. But when you use them too often, or substitute them for real story or character development, that’s not a good thing. It kind of says the screenwriters got lazy, or they hit a dead end in writing (I call this the “Rocky rule” because that series got progressively worse the more montages it had).

This episode mostly just establishes Walt (Bryan Cranston) and Jesse’s (Aaron Paul) new cook method: inside houses while they’re being fumigated. It then features a montage (the second in as many episodes) of them cooking the stuff, with a cool touch of intercutting close-ups of the atoms fusing together with each step. Not a whole lot beyond that, though, save for a near-tiff between Walt and Mike (Jonathan Banks) over paying Mike’s crew in prison, yet another example of the two butting heads this season.

There is one great moment, though, between Jesse and Walt. On a break from their cook, they have a seemingly mundane conversation about Jesse’s relationship with Andrea (Emily Rios). Only it isn’t just small talk. Walt hides it well, but clearly he’s manipulating Jesse to leave her.

It works, as Jesse breaks up with Andrea, not so much to protect her as out of shame for his actions (at least that’s what I detected). But what was Walt’s motivation? Was it to remove Andrea and Brock (Ian Posada) from the equation, not allowing them to be elements in any conflict again (an awkward scene of Walt sitting alone with Brock brought this to mind). Is it because Jesse will be easier to control—or more expendable—without human attachment? Maybe it’s something more selfish and cruel than that. I think subconsciously Walt realizes his attempt to make up with Skyler (Anna Gunn) is failing. If he can’t have a healthy home life, Jesse can’t either.

Jesse's not the only one Walt manipulates this episode. He also gets Marie (Betsy Brandt) on his side by revealing Skyler's affair. There's a little smirk of satisfaction on his face afterward; he’s not only become adept at manipulation, but he likes being able to control people. It's a great little piece of acting from Bryan Cranston, so subtle and subdued, and yet so clear and telling about the character.

This episode loses points for the scene of Walt and Walter Jr. (RJ Mitte) watching the end of Scarface, though. Walt’s through making any effort to hide his deeds from Skyler, but this is just rubbing it in her face. He’s bad, no doubt, but he’s not this open and arrogant about it. Yet.

Frutivale Station

On the early morning of New Year’s Day 2009, one Oscar Grant was shot by police after an incident at a stop on the Bay Area Rapid Transit in Oakland. He died hours later. The shooting was caught by several passengers on cell phone video, and inspired both peaceful protests and violence in the city (I’ll decline to post a link to the video, but it’s been widely replayed in the media, so it’s easy to find). That video opens Fruitvale Station, named after the BART stop where the event took place.

Heavy stuff for any filmmaker, let alone director Ryan Coogler in his first feature-length picture. But he absolutely nails it, paying respectful tribute to the deceased while not shying away for depicting Grant’s story for what it is: a tragedy.

The film follows Grant’s last day on Earth before his death. Played by Michael B. Jordan, it depicts him a man in transition. Having served some time in prison, he tries to give up his meager living as a pot dealer and seeks to get a legitimate job to support his girlfriend (Melonie Diaz) and their daughter (Ariana Neal). Even though he’s not having the easiest time of it, there’s still the feeling that things are starting to look up for him. Sadly, he doesn’t know that he won’t return home from his planned trip into the city to celebrate New Year’s.

It’s hard to judge Jordan, or really anyone in the cast, by the normal parameters of acting because everyone so naturally fills each role. Little touches outside the main narrative of Grant going straight—playing with his daughter or chatting with family, friends, or strangers—seem like real video of a loving man going about his day. There are the standard film techniques any movie has, but it seems like we’re watching real people, not actors portraying them. And you start to love the man on the screen as if he’s real.

Which makes Grant’s fate later in the film so devastating. The scenes afterward of his family receiving the news of his death in the hospital are nearly unwatchable, like seeing real people hear the news of the death of a family member. The saddest thing I’ve seen in a movie in several years has Diaz about to tell her daughter, probably too young to really understand what happened, that her father is dead. Mercifully, it cuts away and spares us from it.

Knowing what’s going to happen doesn’t make the film any less engrossing. Every time Grant uses his cell phone (which, like many people, is quite often), the time and text message pop up on the screen next to him like a text bubble in a comic. This becomes like a doomsday clock, counting down to his coming demise, and as it inches closer, you start to tense up more and more.

When it happens, it’s completely one-sided in its depiction, not offering a shred from the cops’ point of view. But it’s so muddled and chaotic that it’s hard to tell if shooting really is excessive force or a mistake (which the officer who fired the fatal shot claimed). The way the incident plays out is a little too Hollywood, in a narrative sense (the incident that results in police being called is a scuffle with an enemy of Grant’s we saw in a flashback to his prison time, and the incident is videotaped by a grocery shopper Grant met earlier; both just happen to be on the same train as him). But this doesn’t dilute its power one bit.

Grant’s death has been compared to the case of Trayvon Martin, and the film might seem more prescient coming to wide release so soon after the George Zimmerman verdict. But instead of taking the macro viewpoint, the film eschews directly addressing any social or political issues (racial profiling, police brutality) and instead focuses on the micro. It reminds us that underneath the cultural discussion and reaction to his death, Oscar Grant was a human being. Flawed, maybe, but not a bad man. Someone with a soul mate, a child, a home, friends—in short, a life. And that life ended because an unfortunate misunderstanding turned tragic. This is a heartbreaking film, but also one with a sense of real humanity uncommon in the movies.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 5, Episode 2: "Madrigal"

The first episode of the season was a good one, but overall, this season (or at least the half that's aired thus far) is a little weaker than what we’ve become used to. A big reason for this, I believe, is that the each episode in the previous seasons was just a smaller part of a bigger story, with few exceptions. In this one, while there is an overall continuing storyline, several individual episodes play out like self-contained, standalone pieces. Also, while the show previously took its time to develop the story and create tension, this season moves faster, as if they’re hurrying to insert every plot point because they know their time is limited. The results, while not bad, aren’t as ruthlessly compelling as the show was before.

In this one, for example, we learn that Gus Fring’s empire was part of giant multinational conglomerate, and that those inside this organization are feeling the heat after Fring met his demise last season. It seemingly ties up the last few loose ends from the last season—both in Fring’s organization and between Walt (Bryan Cranston) and Jesse (Aaron Paul)—and also introduces us to Laura Fraser’s white collar criminal executive Lydia. Fraser’s adequate in the role, but since the series is in the home stretch, she doesn’t get a chance to fully develop into a major character (at least not yet).

But one thing this episode does well is show us a new side of Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks). The episode establishes that despite his cold exterior and stomach for killing, Mike still has some positive attributes, like an ironclad loyalty, a careful and calculating mind, and a lack of the greed that is now consuming Walt. And yet the show establishes this only the utmost subtlety (possibly because it doesn’t have time to do so directly, with the number of episodes dwindling away), and Banks communicates a range of different emotions and personal quandary without ever dropping the character’s stone-faced expression or tough presence.

Also clear is that the character is in his line of work for the job, and only decides to be a part of Walt and Jesse’s operation (against his better judgment) to have money to leave for his granddaughter. Kind of like how Walt only entered the meth business for his family. In a way, Mike is a better Walt than Walt. Mike may be bad, but he managed to keep his monster at bay and focused on only the right people, whereas Walt’s is consuming every part of him.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 5, Episode 1: "Live Free or Die"

This season opener isn’t as strong a standalone narrative as some previous ones, like "Seven Thirty-Seven" or “Box Cutter.” But as far as wrapping up plot points and bringing in some new ones, this is an opener done right.

First off, there’s the pre-credits flash-forward to about a year in the future, showing a Walt (Bryan Cranston) unlike the victorious one we just saw. This is a smart move by the show, taking advantage of knowing the end is near to present a scene full of mystery. Like the burnt teddy bear in season two, this vision of the future ensures that we’ll stay with the show for the duration (an incentive that this season kind of needs toward the middle).

Back in the present, Walt, Jesse (Aaron Paul), and Mike (Jonathan Banks) seek to tie up a loose end after Gus’ death. Here, the show reverts to the form we recognize. One thing back in spades is the goofy and dark humor that breaks the dramatic ice, which is welcome after such an intense preceding season. The whole caper involving the magnet in the truck even seems to be more humorous than thrilling, and Mike’s cynical deadpan (call it Grumpy Old Hitman) keeps the even the tensest scenes funny (his pessimistic line about Miller Time is just gold).

But the episode also delves into the characters. Mainly Skyler (Anna Gunn), who’s shellshocked from Walt’s actions last season. In this one, she sees the results of her extortion of Ted Beneke (Christopher Cousins). Gunn is so good here, giving Skyler a convincing traumatic shock that her husband—and she, too—are in further than she thought, and a real sense of remorse at what her actions brought about.

And then there’s Walt. Now fully bad beyond any doubt, he conducts himself throughout the episode like a cold, calculating criminal (almost like Gus). It’s not only revealed that he did, in fact, poison a kid, but that he used Saul (Bob Odenkirk) in the plan, a fact that troubles even the shady lawyer. The scene between the two where this is revealed starts off like it’s going to be a typical humorous Saul scene, but ends like anything but, with Walt seething and scary (notice how Saul tones down his usual shtick around Walt this season).

But the most powerful moment of the episode (one of the most chilling of the series, too) is when he confronts Skyler about the Beneke affair, hugging her and saying “I forgive you.” with a smile. Sounds about as convincing as Michael Corleone telling his brother in-law he won’t kill him. Walt’s smile is am empty mask; underneath there’s not a shred of the good-intentioned chemistry teacher left, just evil. You can feel the dread on Skyler’s face.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 13: "Face Off"

This episode is really an extension of the last one, as Walt (Bryan Cranston) powers through the endgame of his conflict with Gus (Giancarlo Esposito). The two could have easily been combined into one long finale, as the show seems to be meanly toying with us by keeping them separate (though with the whole season at your disposal on streaming or video, you don’t have to wait between the two). But the final payoff is quite satisfying.

After a whole season of the story moving slowly, things finally speed up, as Walt is now in frantic mode. Gus’ explosive death is an imaginatively rendered plot turn I did not see coming, and his gruesome final seconds of life (still walking with half his head blown off) gets points for creative and amusing gore, even if it’s a little unrealistic. I also liked the touch of Western-style music as Gus enters the retirement home to face Tio Salamanca (Mark Margolis), like the two are gunfighters in one final standoff (such hints at much more history between the two than we’ve seen, which could be good material for that possible Gus Fring prequel I mentioned earlier). Gus’s death offers more a sense relief from the relentless tension than catharsis, though Walt and Jesse (Aaron Paul) burning down the superlab allows us to revel a bit in their victory.

That feeling of revelry is short-lived, however, when the final shot reveals just what Walt has done. There’s still a sense of ease that the tension is finally lifted, but just as much lament that Walt had to break so bad to win this battle (the scene is scored to “Black” by Danger Mouse, Daniele Luppi, and Norah Jones, which perfectly captures these conflicting feelings). Watching this episode again with the knowledge of what he did (and especially after the charade he put on for Jesse last episode), I honestly found it harder to root for Walt this time. It even had me wondering whether or not Jesse would have been better off to trust Gus and let Walt go (I tell myself no, that Gus would have eventually killed Jesse, too, but I’m not sure).

This season really began last season, as the ball got rolling when Jesse defied Gus. But season parameters aside, this overreaching storyline was beyond great. I may have overused the word “tension” a bit during this re-watch, but there’s really no other word for it. The slow, methodical way the plot unfolded put me more on edge than I thought was possible for television. Yeah, other shows have left me clamoring for the next episode, but the most eager I’ve ever felt about another show, I felt after about the fourth episode this season. And it just went up from there. At the same time, no other show explored and depicted the metamorphosis of every aspect of a character—his relationships, motivations, morality, demeanor—like Walter White this season. And Jesse’s arc was pretty damn good, too.

The show was already very good, but this narrative arc puts it in the conversation of the greatest dramas ever made. And notice I didn’t say “TV dramas” there.

The Wolverine

Is there any doubt that Wolverine is the face of the X-Men? Even before the movies, he was probably the most recognizable and popular character, in the comics and on the classic animated show. So when the film series finally got made, it’s no surprise that they centered the narrative on him. If there was one role for which they needed to get the right guy, it was this one.

And they did. Hugh Jackman perfectly captured the character’s attitude, humor, seething temper, and tortured soul. Not a bad idea bringing in a well-trained actor of substantial range, instead of just an action star. Jackman gave the character a swagger and aplomb that carried the series very well, even in its weaker third installment X-Men: The Last Stand (not so much with X-Men Origins: Wolverine, but that was a film nothing could really salvage). He also makes The Wolverine, an otherwise marginal and standard comic book action vehicle, quite watchable at the very least.

Set some time after The Last Stand, the film finds Wolverine living as a recluse in the Canadian wilderness, where he’s visited by the clairvoyant, sword-wielding Japanese mutant Yukio (Rila Fukushima). Yukio brings news of the dying tycoon Yashida (Haruhiko Yamanouchi), whose life Wolverine saved during the atomic bombing of Nagasaki (shown in flashbacks with Ken Yamamura playing a young Yashida). Wolverine travels with Yukio to Tokyo, where Yashida’s family is entangled in drama involving Japanese politics and the criminal Yakuza. When Yashida’s daughter Mariko (Tao Okamoto) is targeted by assassins, Wolverine travels with her across Japan as her protector, while mysteriously starting to lose his healing power.

The film is based on the 1982 Wolverine limited series by Chris Claremont (the God of X-Men stories) and Frank Miller (who I’ve spoken about before), a more character-centric story that casts the character as a would-be samurai. While not a direct adaptation (though readers will immediately recognize some specific elements), the movie does follow in the same vein. There’s plenty of action, both the abundant CGI kind and the old-fashioned hand-to-hand and sword-to-sword (or sword-to-claw) kind. But the gaudy visuals and mutant power effects are kept to a minimum (or at least held off until the end), while the focus is more on character.

Unfortunately, there are two stories jammed into a movie that only has room for one. Yashida’s family drama is confusing and hard to follow. It doesn’t get adequate time to develop into something coherent, let alone compelling. And all the while, Wolverine seems like he’s just tagging along in someone else’s movie, as the reason he’s dragged into this state of affairs isn’t revealed until quite late. He's just as detached and confused as we are watching it.

Famke Janssen appears in flashbacks as Jean Grey, who Wolverine killed in The Last Stand when she turned evil and destructive. Ostensibly meant to show Wolverine’s guilt and loneliness, they don’t really reveal anything new about the character. Neither does anything else.

Really, the picture should have just chosen one of these two plots and gone with it, either given Wolverine a bigger, more direct part of the Japanese family drama (which he had in the comic), or just explore his inner pain. Instead the movie gives us both, and not enough of either.

Still, the film ranks above the dreadful Origins. Rather than just haphazardly filling in the blanks of the character’s past while throwing in so many new characters for no reason, The Wolverine at least attempts to tell a good character story. Even though it doesn’t quite succeed, it’s an admirable effort. And the fight scenes and Jackman’s mastery of the character (especially the humor) keep it from being boring. If nothing else, it shows that he’s still got it heading into next year’s Days of Future Past.

Speaking of which, I’d advise against heading out of the theater too quickly as the credits start to roll. But if you’ve seen any comic book movies the past few years, I didn’t need to tell you that.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 12: "End Times"

This whole series is worth watching a second time to reexamine and reinterpret every scene, detail, line of dialogue, and character action. At no point is that clearer than this episode.

A sense of imminent doom smolders over every scene after all the subplots collided and the tension rose past the stratosphere last episode. And yet, things unfold rather slowly, delaying the much needed release all the way until next episode. It’s almost tortuous watching it.

No moment is more tense than when Jesse (Aaron Paul) confronts Walt (Bryan Cranston), accusing him of poisoning Brock (Ian Posada). Both actors are brilliant, with Paul pushing Jesse to the line that he seemingly would never cross again (namely killing), and Cranston conveying the supreme desperation of a man defeated and staring death in the face. As he tries to convince Jesse that Gus (Giancarlo Esposito) was behind the poisoning, the way he pulls the gun to his forehead for good measure shows that Walt’s done away with any composure or restraint.

Of course, that’s just the first time you watch it. Next episode reveals that this wasn’t just great acting on Cranston’s part; it was also Walt’s greatest performance. The whole thing was a manipulation to force Jesse back on his side. The gun to the forehead wasn't desperation, just convincing theatrics.

Viewing it with the knowledge of the season’s outcome, we see Walt for what he truly is: self-serving, manipulative, scheming, ruthless—in a word, bad. Walt’s actions speak for themselves, but no other scene so perfectly illustrates how purely evil the character has become. And yet, like Jesse, we totally buy it the first time around. Now how many characters can so expertly play the audience, too?

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 11: "Crawl Space"

This episode ends with the most haunting, supremely indelible moment of the whole series: Walt (Bryan Cranston) lying in the White household’s crawl space laughing maniacally, having just found out that Skyler (Anna Gunn) gave Ted Beneke (Christopher Cousins) the money he was going to spend to escape Gus (Giancarlo Esposito) by going into hiding, while Marie (Betsy Brandt) calls in to alert them that Hank (Dean Norris) is being hunted. The whole thing is scored by a minimalist track that creates an absolutely suffocating tension. The final shot before it cuts to the credits shows Walt gazing up through his floor smiling, like he’s staring at the Grim Reaper and saying, “I give up! You got me!”

This scene is beyond just tense and compelling; it’s damn terrifying. Every time I watch it, even just by itself apart from the rest of the episode, I find myself trembling like I just saw the scariest horror movie ever made.

The score is like we're listening to Walter White's last heartbeats. Fitting, because in a way we’re witnessing him die. Heisenberg is taking over, completely and utterly. With every other option gone, he has to succumb to the evil that until now he only let out in bits if he wants to get out of this alive.

Other stuff happens in this episode, too, like Gus reminding us that he's still the bad guy and a force to be reckoned with by threatening to kill Walt's whole family, and Ted's cruel fate (which made me laugh). But the last scene is so chilling, so perfect—Cranston and Gunn’s acting, the pace, every meticulous shot and camera angle, the music, the way all the season’s storylines lead in to this moment—that it's hard to talk or even think about anything else.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 10: "Salud"

In this one, Gus (Giancarlo Esposito) claims victory in his war with the Cartel in a particularly badass poisoning scene, one that has us all but rooting for the ruthless drug lord. If this were the main storyline, the scene would probably be the season’s defining moment. But on this show, it’s merely a subplot. And it’s still one of the high points of the season. If a subplot’s resolution is this good, you know the main one has something great in store (and it doesn’t disappoint, but we’ll get to that later).

This sequence almost makes me wish it was the main plot, that the show made the Cartel war bigger and devoted more time to it. But the series is above just giving us gangster movie carnage, and it’s the non-Cartel scenes in this episode that remind me they made the right choice in letting it take a backseat to Walt’s (Bryan Cranston) drama and metamorphosis as a character.

Specifically, I’m talking about when Walter Jr. (RJ Mitte) visits his father’s apartment, where he finds the senior Walt a wreck physically and mentally after his beating from Jesse (Aaron Paul). He now fully realizes how deep a hole he’s in, and for the first time in a while shows some remorse and regret (he even accidently refers to his son as “Jesse,” which could subtly suggest his remorse is not merely selfish). Like Jesse before his therapy group earlier this season, Walt tearfully lets it out. But not all of it; also like Jesse, he can’t admit the full truth to his son (he explains his situation as a relapse into gambling as per his cover story), which seems to add another element of pain to his state.

In another scene, Walt details in a monologue how the only memory of his father is a dying empty shell. Clearly, Walt is actually talking about himself. He knows that every line he crosses kills a little more of his soul, and that eventually all that will remain of Walter White is a cold shell.

Another fantastic acting job from Bryan Cranston. Even after all the bad the character’s done, he makes us feel some sympathy for him. Notably, this is also probably the last time we’ll sympathize with him. I mean, yeah, we'll still root for him to take down Gus, but his actions and demeanor from here on out will make it hard to feel sorry for him.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 9: "Bug"

Walt (Bryan Cranston) and Jesse’s (Aaron Paul) relationship has never been a very good one. For every moment of loyalty or camaraderie, there have been about a dozen instances of distrust, deceit, secrets, fighting, and manipulation. From the start, it almost seemed inevitable that the two would eventually come to blows. But that doesn’t make their scuffle at this episode’s close any less affecting.

The fight seems all the more real because it’s sloppy and choppily edited, instead of focused on every blow and detail like a scripted sequence. The fallout is brutal, and not just on account of the blood and bruises. It doesn’t resolve anything—not between the two of them, not with the plan to kill Gus (Giancarlo Esposito)—and in fact only makes things worse.

But Walt is the clear loser in the fight. An earlier episode showed that he really wasn’t in control of his situation. In this one, Jesse gaining the upper hand in and pummeling Walt’s face is symbolic. Walt can’t even control Jesse anymore. He’s burned his last bridge, and is now fully backed into a corner, all alone in his battle to stay alive.

What finally set off this fight is that Walt’s waiting for Jesse to poison Gus became unbearable. Also symbolic, this time of the whole show because this is about the point where the tension the viewer feels becomes unbearable, between Walt’s conflicts with Gus and Jesse, and the looming war between Gus and the Cartel.

And…Ted Beneke (Christopher Cousins) comes back into the picture, too. It seems odd at first how they just throw this back into the mix so late in the season, but the resulting turn in Skyler’s (Anna Gunn) arc next season will reveal this subplot’s importance. For now, it results in the scene where Skyler plays the goofy dumb blonde before an IRS audit, another unexpected and random injection of comedy into a dead serious narrative that actually works. Maybe not as funny as some of the other times in the show employed such comic relief, but if nothing else, it keeps you from pulling your hair out at the otherwise tense happenings.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 8: "Hermanos"

Giancarlo Esposito certainly made Gustavo Fring into a cold and chilling antagonist, one who puts everyone and the audience on edge as soon as he enters the scene without even speaking very much. As fearsome a villain as he is, though, we don’t really know much about him aside from what we see, mostly through the eyes of other characters.

This episode is as close as we get to uncovering the mystery of the character, but that still amounts to just scraps. The show never really delves too far into the past, merely hinting at it in the present-day scenes and only sporadically dropping an anecdotal flashback. This one goes beyond even that, like it’s careful not to reveal an iota more about Gus than viewers absolutely need to know.

The episode does give us a flashback explaining the bad blood between Gus and the Mexican Cartel, as well as Tio Salamanca (Mark Margolis). The scene has the feel of a great gangster movie like Scarface, and the presence of Steven Bauer (the show’s second veteran of the classic film after Margolis) as Cartel boss Don Eladio adds some gravitas to the whole thing. I also like the aesthetic choice of making Eladio resemble the real drug lords of Mexico’s current drug war, a nice touch of authenticity for those in the know.

At the same time, I hate this sequence. Not because of any flaw, but because it seems to be taunting us by not revealing much of Gus’ origin. The way the scene plays out (with Eladio saying he knows who Gus is but not going beyond that) seems like the writers’ way of saying, “Ha ha! We know, but we’re not telling!”

Maybe we’ll learn more in the final eight episodes, or if the Saul Goodman spinoff proves successful, perhaps we may one day see a prequel miniseries or TV movie about Gus (lines of dialogue this episode mention Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet, which could make for an interesting storyline). But for now, Gus is still an enigma to us the viewers.

Aside from Gus, things get interesting for Walt (Bryan Cranston) as Hank (Dean Norris) escalates his investigation into Gus’ dealings. I love the scene where Hank tries to get Walt to put a tracker on Gus’ car. The way he nervously tries to talk Hank out of it is actually painfully funny in an awkward way. Then when Mike (Jonathan Banks) silently pulls up alongside them and gives Walt a disapproving poker face, the scene becomes tense but also that much funnier. Mixing humor and tension is hard to do, but this little sequence nails it. And after so much relentlessly serious tension building up, it’s nice to have a little laugh.

Below are a few updates from the show at Comic-Con. Be aware there may be spoilers regarding the remaining eight episodes.

• Cast and Crew Q&A Panel 
•  Detailed summary of Season 5 Episode 9 preview

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 7: "Problem Dog"

This episode adds several new things to the mix—Walt (Bryan Cranston) bringing the ricin back into the picture, Gus’ (Giancarlo Esposito) tension with the Cartel, Hank (Dean Norris) correctly surmising that Gus is distributing the blue meth—priming us for the latter half of the season. And a good primer it is. While it doesn’t really raise the tension in the immediate (though there’s an undercurrent of dread to Gus’ meeting with the Cartel liaison), it’s clear to the viewer that all these plot turns at once won’t let things remain stable for long.

But what’s very, very good in the now is the revelation about Jesse (Aaron Paul).

The opening scene, with flashbacks to Gale’s (David Costabile) murder briefly, near subliminally intercut into Jesse’s shooter game, are haunting and effective. Later, Jesse’s partial confession at his group therapy meeting is a powerful scene, one of Paul’s best pieces of acting on the show. He shows Jesse’s raw anguish at what he’s done, compounded by the fact he must lie (Gale becomes a dog in his story, hence the title) because what he's done is that bad. But he has to share it this way because he only ones he can be honest with probably would see his remorse as weakness.

Jesse’s still far from healed, and letting it out doesn’t change that. But this episode makes one thing clear: despite all he’s been through, he’s still not bad person. I mean, he's still a drug dealer/maker, so he's bad. But he's not completely evil. And Gus and Mike’s (Jonathan Banks) efforts to rebuild him as their goon are failing.

In one scene, Jesse lies to Walt about having the chance to slip Gus the ricin. At first it might seem like Jesse’s loyalty to Walt is deteriorating, but I didn’t see it that way. Rather, Jesse doesn’t want to kill. He can’t bring himself to do it again, even to someone who might kill him.

Even though his refusal to kill could result in his own demise, you almost want to applaud Jesse fro not letting darkness overtake him.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 6: "Cornered"

In this one, Walt (Bryan Cranston) gives his famous, oft-quoted “The One Who Knocks” monologue, and it’s easy to see why it’s become synonymous with the show. It’s a very good scene, not just as a plot point showing Walt’s arrogance and festering evil, but also a brilliant piece of writing. The choice of words (I mean, “The One Who Knocks” doesn’t sound very threatening on paper) sounds more like a real stream of consciousness instead of written dialogue.

Walt’s been mostly in retreat this season, but in this episode, he fights back at the world any way he can. But his arrogance blinds him to his true standing with both his enemies and friends. His attempt to spite Gus (Giancarlo Esposito) by letting immigrant laundry workers clean the superlab only registers as a mild annoyance to the boss man, and the workers are the ones punished for it. Walt buys a car for Walter Jr. (RJ Mitte) to get back at Skyler (Anna Gunn) for confronting him earlier in the episode (presumably this is a sorry present for Walter Jr., but I detected some spite in the action), but she takes control of the situation by guilting him into returning it. The only solid victory Walt can count is over Bogdan (Marius Stan), and that comes with little satisfaction because a man who did nothing wrong was cheated out of his business.

Through this episode, the audience feels every possible reaction to Walt. There’s a bit of a thrill from his monologue, disgust for some of his actions, rooting for others, and in the end some sorrow and pity, but with an almost told-you-so feeling to it. This, I think, is one of Cranston’s strongest acting episodes; that convincingly he goes through this range of emotion in just a single one (while sharing it with the Cartel subplot, no less) is a credit to his skills.

By the end, we see that Walt is outmatched on all fronts. He could take charge at home, but the little human feelings he has left is too much to be cold and callous enough to do so. And with Gus, well, he’s far from having the upper hand. In other words, the episode’s title is perfect.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 5: "Shotgun"

Last episode ended with Walt (Bryan Cranston) yelling into the superlab camera about Jesse’s (Aaron Paul) whereabouts, while his former student rides away with Mike (Jonathan Banks) to places unknown. This one begins frantically with Walt driving maniacally to the local Pollos Hermanos to find Gus (Giancarlo Esposito). The scene where he waits in the eatery for his boss/adversary—as he grows angrier by the second while the security cameras, employees, and even patrons seem to be watching him—is just brimming with latent tension that seems about to explode.

What happens is next is unexpected, in a way that’s underwhelming. Instead of Jesse riding to his death, he simply aids Mike in making routine collections. We were expecting something big to happen, but the episode just spends most of its running time showing Jesse riding alongside Mike for no discernible reason, intercut with Walt struggling to cook alone. Jesse gets bored, and aside from the mildly humorous moments he gets on Mike’s nerves, so do we watching.

But what’s boring at first turns out to be compelling when we realize what’s really going on. Jesse’s ride wasn’t so pointless after all; it’s Gus and his crew’s way of starting to build up his damaged psyche to their advantage, and use it to break Walt (a short scene with Gus and Mike establishes this directly, but it’s clear what’s happening well before that). It’s working, too. Maybe a little bit better than Gus intended, for the stress drives Walt to imbibe a little too much at a family dinner, which leads him to drunkenly cluing Hank (Dean Norris) in to Gus’ operation through Gale’s death.

The episode doesn’t relieve the tension that’s built up, just pushes it aside to let is simmer even more. Ironically, this also is the episode that Walt and Skyler (Anna Gunn) finally get back on good terms. It’s like the universe won’t let Walt have both a good home and work life, whether that work be in teaching high school or making meth.

Pacific Rim

Pacific Rim might have been my new favorite movie if I saw it when I was ten or eleven years old. But I’m instead seeing it in my early 20s, with more mature tastes and having grown a little bored and jaded by the ongoing onslaught of giant several-hundred-million-dollar blockbusters. And I still loved it.

Yes, this movie’s trailers made it look like just another over-budgeted rehash of old ideas, in this case the giant creature genre in the vein of Godzilla. The giant robots reminded me of the Megazords from the first incarnation of those awful Power Rangers shows of my childhood, and not in a good way. Yet, despite how this idea may have looked on the surface, the execution is something to see.

In the picture, giant creatures called Kaijus emerge from a portal to another dimension at the bottom of the Pacific and attack major cities on every coast bordering the Ocean. To fight these creatures, the world unites to build the Jaegers, giant robots piloted by two fighters with linked minds. The Jaegers are able to repel the Kaiju for a while, but the tide turns when the creatures get bigger and more fearsome. The bulk of the film takes place years after this fact, centering on the last days of the Jaegers as they attempt to use a nuclear bomb to close the interdimensional portal, located off the coast of Hong Kong.

The narrative does kind of fall into predictable action adventure story patterns, and you could make a checklist of all the character archetypes on display. There’s the jaded hero who has trouble following orders (Charlie Hunnam), the gruff no-nonsense authority figure (Idris Elba), the newbie that said authority figure is reluctant to let participate in the action (Rinko Kikuchi), the zany scientist who’s a little too into their work (two actually, Charlie Day and Burn Gorman), and the colorful criminal who it turns out isn’t such a bad guy (Ron Perlman). And every line they speak, from the inspirational monologues to the quiet dialogue exchanges, is a little clichéd and corny (though mostly delivered with a winking eye, like everyone knows not to be too serious).

So what sets it apart from other blockbusters?

The difference is director/co-writer Guillermo del Toro, who brings a limitless visual imagination and unparallel zeal to every film he makes. In addition to the creatively designed machines and monsters, he gives us some pretty cool sequences, such as what happens when two Jaeger pilots’ minds fuse together (and Day’s attempts to meld with a disembodied Kaiju brain make for an entertaining subplot, both comic relief and a crucial story element). The movie also cleverly imagines how world culture might react to such monster attacks, such as Perlman’s character’s selling Kaiju parts on the black market, and several throwaway images and lines throughout.

When the Jaegers and Kaijus duke it out, it’s impressive stuff to behold. Instead of just incoherent destruction like Transformers or Man of Steel, the fights are expertly choreographed. It looks like real human fighting styles, only much, much taller, and with extensive weapons and powers. There are several awe-inspiring shots of the size and scope of the combatants (the movie demands to be seen on the big screen, and a few extra dollars for IMAX are worth it for the full experience), and yet small creative touches, as well, like one involving Newton’s famous metal balls. And when it seems the action is starting to go overboard, del Toro takes it even further, like he’s going as far as his imagination will take him, realism and science be damned. Still, it never gets to the point of feeling excessive because the film has the sense not to go too much over two hours, unlike so many recent blockbusters that overstay their welcome.

There have been some rumblings in Hollywood leading up to the movie’s release, with the notion that it’ll bomb prevailing before it even hit theaters. I hope that doesn’t turn out to be true, because it’d be a real shame if the one blockbuster that does everything right (it’s as big as any other major release this summer, but imaginative and fun instead of just loud and obnoxious) were to go unseen.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 4: "Bullet Points"

There are several great moments in this episode.

The pre-credits shootout with Mike (Jonathan Banks) in the freezer truck is very good, both just as an action sequence in itself, and as a harbinger of further conflict between Gus (Giancarlo Esposito) and the Cartel. Later, Mike takes the increasingly detached Jesse (Aaron Paul) on a car ride, with the credits rolling before we find out what happens. Mike has made his negative thoughts on Jesse clear earlier, so the audience knows whatever’s in store can’t be good.

Walt (Bryan Cranston) learns that Hank (Dean Norris) is on his tale, and through Gale’s (David Costabile) lab notes that the coworker he had killed though highly (maybe a little too highly) of him. There’s a twinge of regret in Walt during this turn of events, especially in the look on his face when he sees Gale’s alive on DVD (Gale’s karaoke rendition of “Major Tom” is a goofy, random touch that works), but it’s hard to tell if it’s remorse for his death, or worry that he didn’t cover his track well enough. He’s crossed so many lines that it’s hard to tell anymore.

But even with all these great parts that continue or set up major events in the overall storyline, my favorite scene is actually something smaller: When Walt and Skyler (Anna Gunn) are rehearsing their cover story (that Walt won his drug money through gambling), and Walt refuses to read his overly apologetic lines.

Walt’s right: The script Skyler prepared sounds so obviously fake and preplanned. But their argument isn’t about the script, but the tension between them that was never resolved, only pushed aside. Skyler never got an apology from Walt, so her script in which he’s so apologetic is her last-ditch way of getting him to say he’s sorry. Walt, however, is long past the point of thinking he’s in the wrong.

The crime drama and action elements on the show alone would make it an entertaining product, but it’s these little perfect character moments that put the series above and beyond much of television today.

Breaking Bad re-watch: Season 4, Episode 3: "Open House"

The theme of this episode seems to be “unraveling,” as the characters’ lives fall apart in some way. Walt’s (Bryan Cranston) been unraveling since the end of last season when his conflict with Gus (Giancarlo Esposito) began, but aside from expressing his displeasure at the new video cameras in the superlab, he somewhat takes a back seat to the supporting characters’ unravelings.

For Jesse (Aaron Paul), his whole psyche is deteriorating. The episode makes that clear in one very strong scene. Jesse returns home, where his extended house parties have turned his living room into a drug den. But his deplorable surroundings—drugs, open sex, vandalism—doesn’t even elicit a reaction. Perfectly scored to Fever Ray’s chilling “If I Had a Heart,” the sequence is almost spooky, as Jesse moves through the debauchery around him like a ghost. Seems like murdering Gale also killed a little bit of his soul.

Marie’s (Betsy Brandt) psyche is also unraveling, though not to the same degree as Jesse’s. Hank’s (Dean Norris) cantankerous attitude in recovery causes her to clumsily relapse into kleptomania, and get caught for it. Thus eventually brings to an end this small subplot between Hank and Marie, and not a moment too soon because it did nothing but make Hank look like a jerk. There wasn’t any exploration of the dynamic between him and Marie, and it seemed inconsistent with their portrayal because they always seemed to have a strong marriage. Maybe this was the point, to be some insignificant hardship that they move on from and forget, like one of those small rough patches couples have in real life. But it didn’t make for a compelling subplot.

On the reverse end of this theme, Skyler (Anna Gunn) kind of unraveled already last season, and is now piecing herself back together as a knowing, willing accomplice in Walt’s criminal activities. The way she uses fraudulent tactics to get Bogdan (Marius Stan) to sell the carwash shows how her nature’s changed since last season. But she’s still relatively oblivious to the extent of Walt’s deeds, and his situation, and still at arm’s length. In other words, she’s at a place more redeemable than Walt.