Monday, September 30, 2013

Blue Moon




*Spoilers*

Last night it happened. Breaking Bad - the only TV show I watch - ended. The finale, a play on words titled Felina, was perhaps one of the greatest series finales in television history. Throughout the entire episode I trembled with nervous anticipation, waiting for some sudden misstep, some calamitous ruin to befall the series' nearly perfect run. But Gilligan, who crafted the story with a Heisenberg level precision, wouldn't allow that to happen; he'd invested too much blood (Fe), meth (Li) and tears (Na) to let it fall now. Everything was meticulously well thought-out, right from the opening scene - Walt sitting in a stolen snow covered car, praying for safe travel back home, Marty Robbin's song El Paso foreshadowing his fate: 

I saddled up and away I did go,
Riding alone in the dark.
Maybe tomorrow
A bullet may find me.
Tonight nothing's worse than this
Pain in my heart

The ending was so expertly done it was actually two endings in one. There is the ending Gilligan gave to his audience, us addicts: the fix. An ending where against all odds Walt ties up every remaining loose end, outmaneuvers all opposition, reasserts control and ends things on his terms. Delivering lethal doses of retribution, revenge, a small redemption, some semblance of justice. Vengeance. This is the first ending. Viewed this way the ending feels good. But what about the moral implications? "The whole thing felt kind of shady, morality-wise, y'know?" Cue the second ending, one that exists as an open-ended question. Should we feel good about this? Despite the horrific things he'd done, the monster we'd watched him become, in the end did he get to have the last laugh: achieving victory in death? Is that a message thematically congruous with series? Doubtful.

I've poured over dozens of reviews today, half of the critics hailing Heisenberg and the other half hanging him. What I haven't seen a single person say though, is that IF we view Heisenberg's death as a victory, and it makes us feel uncomfortable to think he died at peace, then the episode was a success. The fact that we as an audience might feel he got off too easy illustrates just how far he'd fallen. Thematically it reaffirms the notion that evil exists and sometimes the bad guys don't get what they deserve. This point was already made painfully clear with Hank's murder; the good sheriff lost. For Heisenberg to be dealt a harsher death would be a fairy-tale ending. Breaking Bad is no fairy-tale, it's a tragedy almost Shakespearean in scope. The tragedy of it all, is that he kind of does get away with it.

What of the idea that we were watching Walt outwit Heisenberg the entire episode, eventually sacrificing himself to destroy his criminal alter-ego? In those last moments, the glimmer we see in Bryan Cranston's eye isn't Heinsenberg's, it's Walt's. His satisfaction from knowing that Heisenberg can't hurt anyone anymore. 


The religious allusion throughout the finale was strong too. Beginning early in the episode when Walter makes the phone call from a gas-station pay-phone, the tall metal light behind him standing stoic and ominous like a giant crucifix. And before that, he sat entombed inside a darkened car like a cave, evoking that famous dead martyr. For the first third of the episode he exists in the background out of focus, a stalking specter shrouded in shadows - like a ghost. In the Schwartz's home he appears framed in flames, a symbol of the Holy Spirit. The overtly religious scene with Jesse, the obvious moral symbol of the show, bathed in gold light while woodworking; again, like that famous dead martyr. The rooster atop the cabinet near the ceiling during Walt's confession to Skyler, a symbol of intelligence and perseverance in Christianity and Judaism alike. The nativity-like quality of Walt's visit to baby Holly. The three lights like halos over the pool-table behind Walt in Jack's hideout before the gun goes off. When Walt sacrifices himself to save Jesse, he's dealt a mortal wound on his right side near to his ribcage; like that famous...Felina is saturated in this kind of imagery, right down to the final scene as the camera pans up, tracking his soul's ascension to heaven. 

As much as Walt invokes imagery of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Heisenberg represents the Morningstar. Like Lucifer in Milton's Paradise Lost, he is a villain you want to love. He possesses a relatable kind of evil, good intentioned, sensible and seemingly justified in his actions - like that famous garden snake. The whole thing plays out as though Tarantino, Milton and Sergio Leone sat down and created a modern retelling. It's beautiful and brilliant and so so bad. 


As I've said, I loved Felina. In a sepia colored reverie, Gilligan laid that shit down like a master craftsman, leaving us yearning to covetously cradle his beautifully carved wooden masterpiece. But if just for the fuck of it, I had to I take issue with something, it would be the last song played as the camera pulled upward. Tonally it just didn't fit with the episode's feel, though it was lyrically sound. Something more like Cowboy Junkies' Blue Moon Revisited would've been a nicer fit emotionally, but I'm nitpicking now.



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