"Breaking Bad" is, according to Wikipedia, is a southern colloquialism for taking a turn off the straight and narrow path. Or it might be defined as when someone forced beyond their limits to their breaking point--the point at which they're forced to do things they never thought themselves capable of.
Walter White, played in turns gently and ferociously by Bryan Cranston, is the definition of "breaking bad". He's a mild-mannered chemistry teacher with a loving wife, Skyler, who is unexpectedly pregnant with the couple's second child. Their first son, Walter Jr., has cerebral palsy. Walter and Skyler manage to hold it together as a lower-middle to middle-middle class family. They may not be able to afford a new water heater, but they're not exactly starving either. Things are going ok and they have a lot to be grateful for.
That is, until Walter is diagnosed with terminal, inoperable lung cancer. He will almost certainly be dead within two years, leaving his family with a mountain of debt. This turn for the worse is what pushes Walt to take a turn for the worse in the moral sense.
After Walt's brother-in-law, who works for the Drug Enforcement Administration, describes the massive amount of money meth dealers can make, Walt is inspired. He has the scientific knowledge to cook the world's greatest, purest meth. However, what he has in book smarts he seriously lacks in street smarts--at least at first.
Walt recruits Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul--you might remember him as Amanda Seyfried's husband in Big Love), a rough around the edges drug dealer, to do the street work for him. Turns out that Jesse is smart and, in many ways, a decent guy. He comes from a good family. Like Walt, Jesse wasn't born bad--he's breaking bad.
The first season of Breaking Bad is a short run of seven perfectly tuned, intense, gritty episodes. I was hooked from episode one. The concept of a good man pushed to his limits intrigues me. And unlike many other violent and exploitative shows, Breaking Bad has genuine heart below its grimy surface. When Walt's family tries to stage an intervention to make him undergo chemo (Walt balks at the idea), Walt explains as calmly as he can that in his last few months he doesn't want to be "unable to enjoy a good meal...to make love. To be so nauseous I can't turn my head...you would all remember me that way". As much as we sympathize with Skyler and Walter Jr., who think Walt would be crazy not to try to fight the cancer, we see Walt's point of view as well. He's going to die--why suffer to delay the inevitable for a few months?
Yet, the next day, Walt wakes up in bed alone. He walks downstairs to the kitchen, where Skyler is making breakfast. He hugs her from behind and says "Ok. I'll do it for you." At this point, Walt realizes there is something he loves and cares about more than a good meal and the ability to make love--his wife and son. He has decided not to live his last months for himself, but for them. The love in the White family is palpable, which makes it all the more heartbreaking.
But unlike a Lurlene McDaniel book or Lifetime movie, Breaking Bad removes any sentimentality of terminal illness. In the world of Walter White, illness leads to desperation--and a certain kind of exhilaration. Walt, previously a geeky, quiet, passive man is now on the road to becoming a criminal, a liar, and a killer. This is no 3-hankie made for TV movie where the cancer patient lies in bed and nobly waits for death to come. Breaking Bad is about what it's like to live when there is literally nothing left to lose. And it's a heart-pounding ride.
4.5 out of 5 stars
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