When Television Triumphed: Breaking Bad

Like Mad Men, Breaking Bad is another one of those shows which I had heard so much about, but just put off actually watching. I'm weird like that. When I hear about a show, or movie, or anything, which is almost universally praised, I am skeptical. Just my nature, I guess. Breaking Bad is one of those shows. Bryan Cranston has won an Emmy for nearly every season, and if it weren't for perennial favorite Mad Men, I'm sure the show itself would win a lot more too. And given the subject matter - chemistry teacher makes/sells drugs to combat the costs of his terminal cancer treatments - I felt there was a good chance the show would dip into melodramatic soap opera territory.

I happily report that just about every preconception I had towards Breaking Bad was wrong. This is, in short, a brilliant television show. One of the best all-around programs I've ever seen. The production value is top-notch, and I particularly like the unusual mix of colors in the cinematography. Rarely has there been a TV show (or a movie, even) with such rich, saturated colors of such a wide range. At times, it looks like Technicolor! The acting, of course, speaks for itself, but that goes for the whole cast, not just lead actor Cranston. He gets the most attention, of course, because he has by far the most screen time (and he's phenomenal in the role), but the supporting cast turns in some great work as well.

A confession: I myself have never used illicit drugs. I tried cigarettes (hated them), and I'll have alcohol occasionally, but I never touched anything else. A few reasons, mostly a complete lack of desire and interest, but perhaps the biggest reason was that I've seen first-hand what drug addiction can do to people. Not to get preachy, and I don't personally care what people choose to do in the privacy of their own homes, but habitual hard drug use changes you... and not for the better. I'll just leave it at that.

That said, what impressed me most about Breaking Bad is the writing. Even The Wire - which is perhaps the best TV show ever made, all things considered - dipped into caricature on occasion with its depiction of drug use. Here, each and every charcter is believable, three-dimensional, complicated, and conflicted. Season Two's depiction of Jesse and Jane, for instance, is heart-breaking. For a while, their drug use is recreational. Then it becomes habitual... Then it just becomes tragic. They want to stop; they know they should stop; they even plan to stop... but they can't. They have to pay the consequences - sometimes benign, sometimes deleterious. And to me, that's how you elevate drug use from caricature to realism to tragedy.

But perhaps what was most surprising is how funny it is. Don't get me wrong, there are some horribly tragic things that happen on Breaking Bad; but more often than not, the show is played for laughs rather than tears or solemn nods. At times, things are so over the top, it even approaches slapstick. That the show can so easily vacillate between genres - to the point you can hardly believe everything is wrapped under the same banner - is a true credit to the script and the actors. Quentin Tarantino prides himself on his ability to jerk the audience from laughter to shock; not only do the writers of Breaking Bad do a better job of this, they manage to do it without compromising character for the sake of cleverness, and they make each scene and tonal transition flow logically from one to the next without the need to break up continuity.

I've hinted at plot details, but let me make things explicit: in the very first episode, everyman chemistry teacher Walter White is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. He is dumbstruck. So stupefied, in fact, that he does not even tell his family. They are of modest means: he works as a high school teacher, she is a stay-at-home mom. Additionally, their only son has a congenital birth defect, and they have a baby on the way. Even without such a costly (in more ways than one) diagnosis, they do not have much money to spare. So now Walter is at a crossroads: he feels obligated as a father to share this information with his wife, and he knows it is his place to provide financially... but his health leaves him in no position to do so, and he believes that telling her will essentially damn her to a life of loneliness and poverty.

So Walter devises a plan. A simple plan, but a lucrative one. A plan which carries innumerable risks to himself and his family, but a plan nonetheless, and one he is well suited to. He decides to cook and sell methamphetamine, with the help of former student-turned-drug dealer Jesse Pinkman. But this is not just some fly by night operation: in Walter's mind, if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right. He tells Jesse that they will only make the purest possible product. Anything else is garbage. Walter's hope is that such purity will allow for higher pricing, which is true, but it also attracts more attention... from all sorts of unsavory characters. And then he comes to find that he kind of enjoys this double life, and is inexorably drawn deeper into the darkness.

Where it goes from there is really quite brilliant. The show is just so thoroughly and logically constructed - just when you think it's going to hit a wall, or there isn't any other place to go dramatically, they catch you with some new, unique twist. Great laughs are had at the expense of Walter and Jesse's ineptitude (they are not the hard-ass dealers they pretend to be), but they also find themselves continually faced with decisions and situations which leave them changed - different men - afterwards.

This is perhaps the "moral" of the story, boiled down to its most basic form: every action has a reaction. Many shows and movies, even great ones, feel predestined - fated. As though the characters themselves had little say in the outcome. Here again Breaking Bad breaks the mould: we see them ruminating, thinking things through, and ultimately deciding on what they think is best... We don't always agree with it, but we can at least understand it. I can't wait to see where they go next.

Why Tim Tebow will Fail

First, I have to admit: I want Tim Tebow to fail. A few reasons. One, he's not a very good quarterback. He's got talent, don't get me wrong, but he doesn't have what it takes to be a successful NFL quarterback. He's gotten lucky to get this far. Two, he has to be the worst kind of religious fanatic. No matter what you believe, there is no need to be so obnoxious about it.

Back to the first point... What's Tebow's completion percentage? 42%? I'm almost positive it's not even 50%. That's sad. A starting NFL quarterback - to be successful - should at least be somewhere in the 60s. He can extend the play, he can make things happen with his feet that keeps defenses guessing, but that won't work for long - just ask Michael Vick. After a while, teams key on your strengths... then you lose a step... and then you're a sitting duck. Right now, Tebow is ahead of the curve, but I can guarantee he'll be brought back down to Earth pretty quick.

Just look at those who've come before him. Think of Steve Young, another scrambling leftie. Or Donovan McNabb - also known primarily for his legs and his toughness. It's great to have that in your arsenal, but only to complement other skills. McNabb, for instance, had to consciously alter his playing style and spend more time in the pocket so he could survey the field; in time he became one of the most accurate passers in the league. This is the sort of trajectory Tebow will need to follow to be successful.

After watching him play, though, my feeling is that he doesn't have the basic skill set to do it, even if he wanted to; he just doesn't have that capability. He's more like a Michael Vick: a great athlete, not a great position player. Vick has the quickness, agility, and arm strength; Tebow has the size and the power... what they both lack is patience and decision-making. When he was with the Falcons, Vick was basically a glorified running back - he'd take a drop, look for a couple seconds, and then take off if he didn't see something right away. Andy Reid has made him a better quarterback, but you can tell he's still fighting his instinct, which has a lot to do with the Eagles unsuccessful season. Tebow, on the other hand, does take a good amount of time, he just can't make the basic throws. He can chuck it up there and make the receiver go get it - but any sort of route that involves a receiver moving across the field, or coming back in, or some other sort of complex move, and he just cannot hit the target. And he's not getting any better. After 350+ career attempts, he's connected on 47% of his passes. Good luck maintaining a career with that kind of percentage.

Second, the fanaticism... and by extension, the fervor of his supporters. Please be aware: this has nothing to do with his particular brand of Christianity - which seems quite superficial - I would say the same thing if he were Muslim. Tebow legitimately believes God is helping him win football games. And, according to one recent poll, 43% of the nation believe the same. In the words of Kyle Broflovski...

Are there people out there who think God actually has a vested interest... in football? In a game? I have so many problems with this line of thinking, I don't even know where to start. First of all, how pious can Tebow be when he works every Sunday? He's not an Adventist - isn't it his Christian duty to go to church on Sunday and spend the day in quiet reflection? Can you "remember the Sabbath and keep it holy" when you're running around a field for a few hours, ducking hits and throwing balls in the air, all while surrounded by thousands of screaming drunks?

It's fine whatever Tebow believes. Evidently millions of people believe the same. But there is a time and place for everything. If you want to thank God you scored a touchdown, or say a prayer before/during/after a game - go ahead! No problem with it. What I can't stand is that Tebow is just so over the top about it; and when someone goes to such an effort to inject any name in the conversation, I begin to question their motives. Does Tim Tebow really feel this way, or does he simply want us to think he really feels this way? Also, it's incredibly arrogant to say that God is helping you win a football game; it just begs the question, If you're playing against another Christian, why would God help you and hurt him? Better question: with all his infinite wisdom and power, and all the thoughts/concerns/prayers of his followers, does God actually care about something as trivial as a football game?

Now trust me, I'm not saying he's purposely being mendacious (I think he's too dim for that), just that I find it all very... spurious, let's say. Look at this quote from Tebow, said in response to Jake Plummer suggesting that maybe his relationship with God is better left a private matter rather than a public one:

“If you’re married, and you have a wife, and you really love your wife, is it good enough to only say to your wife, I love her, the day you get married? Or should you tell her every single day when you wake up and have the opportunity? And that’s how I feel about my relationship with Jesus Christ. It is the most important thing in my life, so every opportunity I have to tell him I love him, or I’m given an opportunity to shout him out on national TV, I’m going to take that opportunity.”

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say Tim Tebow is not very experienced in the girlfriend/marriage department. Not that I'm Don Juan or anything, but I know enough to know that one thing you don't do is tell your wife how much you love her every opportunity you have. Because guess what? That's annoying, and that's not love. That's display. Yes, I think it's important to show that love, to express that love every day - but if you're spending all day every day telling your wife that you love her, I'd venture to say that you won't be married very long. No one wants to be clung to.

And that's really my issue with Tebow's religious fervor - it's just so puerile. These are not the words of a man who has really examined his faith and is genuinely excited to share his experience; these are the words of someone who's been drinking the Kool-aid.

UPDATE: Did you see that Patriots game?! Wow. Remember what I said about teams focusing on your strengths and planning for them, Tebow? This is what happens. When I stopped watching, Tebow had been sacked five times, fumbled once, and completed only three passes. Apparently he threw six more in garbage time, but still - even for a rookie in a playoff game, that's pathetic. Good luck next year, Tim. You're going to need it.

When Television Triumphed: Mad Men

The relationship between television and cinema has always been more competitive than complementary. Where one succeeds, the other tries to ride the coattails; where one innovates, the other wants to steal the glory. For nearly a century the two have warred over audiences, and the last decade or so has largely been a stalemate. Financially, cinema continues to win, but this is largely a result of increased ticket prices more than increased attendance; then again, you could say that television has pulled ahead, but this too is largely a result of increased subscription price and ubiquity rather than increased viewership. In any case, the lines are being blurred. "TV" and "movie" are not so distinct any more; and in a future where the format will most likely be streamed rather than projected or programmed, there may eventually be no distinction at all.

I have always been a film guy. I used to literally watch a movie every day, sometimes more. And in my formative viewing years, I would pick a director and watch his ouevre obsessively, poring over details to find what made him (un)successful and unique (you can imagine how long this took me when I was studying Woody Allen)... But now I'm not so sure that's the case. My movie-watching habits have waned since graduating film school. Generally I'm more likely to see a movie a week; in any case, certainly not one a day. So few are worth the time or money that I've become much more of a TV-watcher.

There are two reasons for this: (1) decreased quality in film options, and (2) vastly increased quality in television options, as well as accessibility. In my view, there are now distinct strengths belonging to both TV and film, and TV has not only bridged the gap, it's actually overcome it - whereas in decades past I would have easily given that edge to cinema. Movies have almost always been about spectacle in some form. They made their mark by simply being more - bigger budgets, bigger screens, bigger stars, etc. This is not to say that all movies are big-budget eye-candy, just that movies usually cost more than TV shows and as a result tend to look better. Television, on the other hand, was the underdog; it had less to work with, in just about every category. And for the most part, I'd say that's still the case. Where television was able to take the lead is in the fact that it finally found the strength of such limitations: creative storytelling and strong writing. A whole series of one television show may never compare budget-wise to a big Hollywood actioner, but where the TV show can really shine is when it takes that time to really develop and understand its characters; TV's strength is in its patience and longevity rather than its spectacle. Television writing has gotten so good, in fact, that I'd be willing to say you're far more likely to find engaging, interesting drama on the small screen instead of the large. (I still have never - and will never - watch "reality" TV, so don't expect anything but diatribes for Jersey Shore and their ilk.)

One of the shows I've just started - despite it having been around some time - is Mad Men. Like so many television shows, I'd heard a lot about it, but subconsciously said "That's not for me" and came up with various reasons to avoid it. The same happened for years with 30 Rock, and now it's one of my favorite shows. I don't know why I do this; I think on some level I don't want to go along with the crowd. I've been burned so much by popular media (whether music, movie, or television) that I tend to avoid it for as long as possible. Once something continues to garner approbation for years, however, then I'll finally cave and give it a shot. Not every show is that lucky, so if word of mouth is strong enough, I'll venture into the more obscure/cancelled shows as well (a veiled reference to the excellence of Firefly, Dave).

Anyway, onto the show proper... My initial impression of Mad Men was that it was more form than content. People tended to focus on the glamour of the show more than the drama. So I was hesitant. I am happy to report that Mad Men does, indeed, deserve the accolades bestowed upon it; and I say that after some careful thought and consideration.

[Disclaimer: I've only seen Season 1, so don't hold it against me if there is a steep dropoff in quality and I'm praising something that doesn't deserve it.]

Truth be told, I was not impressed with the first few episodes. Don't get me wrong - they weren't bad. They weren't even mediocre. They were good. But I would not have called them exceptional. I was expecting exceptional. The writing team had created some interesting, flawed, human characters, but it seemed like the first half of the season was a kind of trial run - as though they weren't sure exactly where this was going.

This does, of course, give them places to go in future seasons - which is obviously why they gave this initial set-up - but for a viewing experience it does leave certain elements feeling disjointed. Betty Draper, for instance, I've still yet to get a handle on. At times she was bent on asserting herself, claiming her place in society and her marriage, and generally getting on board with all manner of feminist ideals... but then she spends just as much of the season willingly and happily deferring to husband Don and relegating herself to the role of stereotypical housewife.

Mad Men's strength is in the way it utilizes stereotypes while subverting them and exposing their darker side, however, and it is in the second half that the show really came into its own and established itself as a key player in high television drama. The production had always been impeccable - and after the ball was rolling, the material really had a chance to shine and capture the wide range of emotion and experience had by each character. I love Peggy's arc throughout the season, and the final few episodes with Don are something special. Mad Men did not start out as great television; it earned the right to be called great television.

Time Off

ATTENTION: If you think I used too many words and too few pictures, take advantage of this entry while you have the chance. The most pictures I've ever used, and probably the most pictures I will ever use. Enjoy!

Cinematic Smackdown: Four in One

I'm trying to get away from this site strictly being used for media review and criticism, so don't be surprised if feature-length critiques become rarefied and combined with other short reviews. There are just so many interesting ideas and topics to discuss - I don't want to strictly be seen as a "movie guy."

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows - 2.5/5
(dir. Guy Ritchie)

Well, you can tell it's a Guy Ritchie movie. This latest adventure of Holmes & Co sees the world's most beloved detective go up against rival intellect Professor Moriarty (whose plots are so convoluted and clandestine it's a wonder they're so effective), kicking ass and bringing laughs along the way. How nice it would have been were Robert Downey Jr actually portraying Doyle's Sherlock Holmes rather than this cheap, nominal imitation.

As it would be totally unfair to fault the entire production for simply having no interest in being true to the source, let me say that Guy Ritchie's steampunk interpretation is entirely watchable, interesting, and fairly entertaining in spite of itself. The film goes on much too long, the plot is near incomprehensible, a number of bits just don't work, and the music video-like inserts which explicate Holmes's particular martial art form (something I'm referring to as "prescient obviation") reach redundancy after only one scene, nicely photographed though they are. The movies coasts on the charms of its lovable, diverse cast - Downey Jr and Jared Harris are particularly good - and a number of set pieces and jokes coalesce to a satisfying whole, vapid though they may be. Additionally, Ritchie's particular cinematic style, while at times grating and even desperate, is a nice change from the likes of Michael Bay or other big Hollywood action filmmakers, who have no sense of style, rhythm, or composition. You could do better at the cinema, but you could also do a lot worse.

The Social Network - 4/5
(dir. David Fincher)

Question: What sort of rating do you give a film which is technically and thematically perfect, yet fails to "grab" you in that all-important, intangible way? Director David Fincher proves yet again that he is perhaps peerless in terms of filmmaking craft. Every shot, every line delivery, even small things like music cues and the expressions on the faces of background extras - all of it polished and refined to remove any sort of blemish.

The only problem, then, is that The Social Network has been so finely crafted and exquisitely made that it's like a piece of machinery: every cog works together the way it's supposed to, the end result is just what you would want and expect, and it even amounts to a larger statement of the times like some premature zeitgeist... but there is only the veneer of a soul. The product is just so cold and anesthetized that you feel next to nothing for the characters or what they're going through, even though you find yourself caught up in the film at the time nonetheless. The Andrew Garfield character is an attempt to rectify this trend, but he is too cloying, too quick to cry and look out windows desperately. The Social Network meets its goals, but it comes short of greatness by achieving perfection.

Blue Valentine - 4.5/5
(dir. Derek Cianfrance)

Blue Valentine is a must for anyone who has ever been in love, fallen out of love, or been in any sort of meaningful relationship. Along with Two for the Road and Annie Hall, it is one of the only films that dares to capture the breadth of experiences felt during an adult relationship.

And capture it does. Feeling more like a found home movie than a fictional production, Blue Valentine is raw, messy, and powerful. It throws these characters under a microscope, exposing their faults and their strengths, their joys and their sorrows. It is the tale of a couple who are perfect for each other and are great together, but who nonetheless struggle to get along and more often would prefer to be alone together than actually interact with each other. Ryan Gosling is great, but the standout is Michelle Williams, who cements herself as perhaps the best actress of her generation. A devastating, heartbreaking performance.

Hellboy II: The Golden Army - 4.5/5
(dir. Guillermo del Toro)

I was not the biggest fan of the first Hellboy, but I can happily say that this installment is like comparing Blade II to Blade - the sequel is so much better you might as well not watch the first. Guillermo del Toro casts his unique perspective on this strange group of characters once again, and this time (using his own script) concocts some sort of mad popcorn masterpiece. Hellboy II is, simply, exactly what a big action movie should be: funny, exciting, intriguing, fast-paced, fun to watch, and fairly "light" while nevertheless being prone to moments of fancy and gravitas. The film is just tons of fun - can't to see what del Toro does next.