The premier of Breaking Bad‘s third season on March 21 was the series’ most-watched episode, corralling two million viewers and an additional 1.3 million for the episode’s immediate encore.
And you’re still not watching it, right?
It would make sense if you weren’t — the show still is a small fry. For all 3.3 million viewers the show attracted, CBS’ Undercover Boss scored more than four times as many that night.
Breaking Bad is on the smaller cable channel AMC, so there are fewer promotional capabilities. The series is consistently dark, sometimes oppressively so, which might turn potential viewers away. Maybe you just haven’t heard of it. Maybe I just haven’t gushed about it enough in the past.
So, let’s start with a hyperbole: Breaking Bad is the best show on television.
The writing — both in terms of dialogue and overarching scope — is unparalleled. The crew has a Hitchcock-like mastery of suspense, which it uses to draw out scenes that climax in terrible, unexpected ways. The cinematography is great, and the acting is never less than forceful.
Let me give you some context: Breaking Bad tells the story of Walter White (Bryan Cranston, Hard Four), a brilliant but unambitious scientist who is a high school chemistry teacher in Albuquerque, N.M. When he is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, he decides to cook methamphetamines — right under the nose of his DEA agent brother-in-law (Dean Norris, Medium) — along with a former student (Aaron Paul, Big Love).
Walt’s plan in the beginning is to provide for his family — his wife (Anna Gunn, Deadwood), his son with cerebral palsy (newcomer RJ Mitte) and his unborn daughter — but his life gradually begins to disintegrate as he finds himself further entangled in the drug trade on both sides of the border.
Light-hearted stuff, right?
Cranston’s Emmy award-winning performance as the changing Walt is brutal and powerful, a far cry from the physical comedy and general craziness of his Malcolm in the Middle character, Hal. Paul was outclassed by his co-star earlier in the series, but over time has established himself as a three-dimensional character.
Besides one arguable blip (the ridiculously over-the-top Tuco, played by Raymond Cruz, The Closer), the actors don’t miss a beat.
There’s just as much strength in the writing itself. DEA agent Hank is a stereotypical faux-badass cop until he undergoes a bout of post-traumatic stress disorder after a particularly harrowing experience (one of the many times the show crosses the morality line).
The writing helps Bob Odenkirk — long known for his comedic roles on The Larry Sanders Show and Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! — turn in a striking performance as the slimy lawyer Saul Goodman (it’s all good, man). It helps the series’ newest villains be more menacing than any before, all without saying a word. It makes Walt’s rise in the drug trade believable, and scarier, at every turn.
It’s always compelling, never predictable and nearly flawless. It’s the kind of show that inspires discussion and theories but never holds anything back to the point of frustration (of course, I’m looking at you, Lost). The theories are more about the nature of the characters and what drives them to the moral and amoral choices they make than the storyline itself — the plot itself is laid out for you.
And at this point in the show, almost none of the characters can function as any sort of role model. How they got to that point and how they futilely rationalize their choices is the reason Breaking Bad is miles above so much television out there.
jwolper@umdbk.com
