Well, it’s over.
I’m sure that’s a bigger deal for most everyone else than it is for
me. As I only started the show about a
month and a half ago, I didn’t have the agonizing wait, the long, slow build-up
over the last five or so years to see how this all would turn out. And that might have more than a small effect
on how I feel about the show. I’ve
wondered if perhaps I would have felt more strongly about the show had I not
had ready access to pretty much the whole series from the get-go. The suspense wasn’t necessarily a huge
factor, because I could just throw on the next episode and see what happened
pretty much immediately.
That being said, I have been trying to
crystalize my thoughts on the show as a whole.
Normally, when a show ends, I can see the strengths and the weaknesses
and evaluate where it could have or should have gone, what they should have done
differently, where they may have veered off the path. There’s none of that with my thoughts on
Breaking Bad. Which in and of itself is
impressive. There are no mistakes. There are no missteps in the writing. There are no plot holes to speak of.
In pretty much every way, the show is
perfect.
As a piece of creative work, it is
flawless.
And that’s what I’m having trouble with. If the show is that consistently high
quality, you would think I would connect with it more than I did. I have no complaints, I have no nit-picks, no
thorns that are going to stick in my side when I think back to it.
I think the closest thing to what I’m feeling
right now about Breaking Bad is a feeling a got occasionally when I was in
college. I read a lot of works of
literature. Works that were supposed to
be giants. Works of varied and subtle
brilliance. Works that have gone and will
go through the years regarded as indispensable.
And I didn’t really enjoy them all that much.
And I think that’s what I would say about
Breaking Bad. It is without a doubt a
work of art. It is as close to
literature as a television show can ever get.
It is masterfully and intricately crafted. It is perfectly-and-I-do-mean-perfectly
acted.
I’ve been accused of being a hipster, accused of
not liking the show just because it’s so popular. And that’s honestly not it. In fact, I started watching because I wanted
to be part of the group, part of the discussion. And now, having seen it, and looking at it
from the inside, I find that I admire it much more than I enjoyed it.
Aside from a few moments of
shock-oh-my-god-Gus’s-face-is-gone, I didn’t connect with it on an emotional or
personal level.
I very rarely cared about any of the characters,
except for certain times with Jesse. Some
of the Walt moments, or maybe I should say Heisenberg moments, did resonate
with me. Because after all, we recognize
the person he became, because a part of that person is inside all of us I
believe. I understand the powerful urge
to seize control of your own life, to dictate instead of being dictated, to do
what you want because you want to do it because that’s the highest law. I understand that, and as a man specifically,
that is powerful thing. But I never
really cared for Walt, or frankly any of the characters on the show.
But at the same time, I keep finding things to
praise. I keep thinking of good things
to say about the show. That reaffirms in
my mind that Breaking Bad is an altogether different experience than any show I’ve
previously seen.
The masterwork that it is cannot be
questioned. But I struggle with seeing the
overall merit of the show as something that affects my life and my mind and my
inner workings. The show is basically
one bad thing happening after another.
And at the end, there really is no redemption for Walt. And yes, I know the show is called Breaking
Bad for a reason, and perhaps I shouldn’t be looking for redemption, because
that’s not what it is about.
But therein lies the problem with all things
nihilistic. No matter how great things
are, in the end they amount to nothing. And
I guess that’s where my feet are landing.
I’m struggling to see the point.
It just feels…empty.
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