Breaking Bad

This is the story of Walter Hartwell White.

by Hunter Isham

        On January 20, 2008, following the critical success of Mad Men, the basic cable movie channel AMC premiered its second scripted original series. This show, pitched to the general public as a drama about a high school chemistry teacher stricken with terminal lung cancer who decides to cook crystal meth to leave his family financially secure, has surpassed its 1960s ad man predecessor in acclaim and, arguably, cultural resonance. Breaking Bad is now hailed as one of the greatest television series ever to be broadcast, and I can hardly disagree. It's exciting, moving, and an experience that can never be forgotten. September 29, 2013 saw Breaking Bad air its series finale, bringing to a close a story that will outlive both its creators and its current audience, and few television shows can claim to be as daring and satisfying as this one was.
        Created by Vince Gilligan, a writer for The X-Files, and starring Malcom in the Middle actor Bryan Cranston as teacher Walter White, Breaking Bad seemed like a curiosity when it premiered. Although there was acclaim, I was certainly among the crowd who had no interest in the subject matter, and the season one promotional art (seen above) only made me raise in eyebrow and think "what?". Add to this characters like Aaron Paul's Jesse Pinkman, a former student turned drug dealer whom Walt turns to for help who has a propensity for calling people "bitch," and I was absolutely certain I would never watch this show. I have a tendency to think I'll never like things I eventually love (see: The West Wing, The Simpsons, all action movies), but thank goodness I'm not too stubborn to give something a try. Breaking Bad broke open a world of characters and events that is as addicting as the methamphetamine Walt and Jesse spend so many hours cooking.
        Breaking Bad is the kind of show that is best unspoiled, even with the vaguest of summaries, so for the purposes of this reflection/recommendation, I'll try to keep it simple. Walter White breaks bad and cooks meth with Jesse Pinkman, but that's not all there is to the story. Walt has a pregnant wife, a son with cerebral palsy, and a brother-in-law in the DEA. This may sound more like a miniseries than a full-fledged television show; after all, how long can Walt and Jesse cook in an RV (once more, check the above ad)? Well, this show is all about change, something Vince Gilligan pitched the show with, and the story and characters certainly evolve. There are dealers, hitmen, kingpins, cartels, and so much more than you could possibly imagine. It's mind blowing to think of how the show started when you see how it all ends, and that's an unbelievable achievement.
        Gilligan and Cranston have thrown around a certain phrase every time they're interviewed: "We'll take Mr. Chips and turn him into Scarface." This was the former's pitch to the latter for the role of Walter White, and it's an unofficial motto of the show. Walt begins as a meek man struggling to live the boring life he's wound up with, and his show-opening 50th birthday is only a sad reminder of that fact. His lung cancer diagnosis, though apparently a death sentence, is when he truly wakes up and does something. This is a central arc in Breaking Bad, and it's perhaps the one quality that keeps us watching (and for some, rooting for) Walt as he embarks on a journey that changes his entire universe, making him much more than just your average anti-hero.
         Breaking Bad has cemented itself as one of the greatest television series of all time, and unquestionably the best that I have ever seen. I may have my sentimental favorites, but I have to respect the riveting, unwavering quality on display here. So much happens over the course of Breaking Bad's five season, six year run*, involving so many characters and events worthy of analysis and dissectoin, that more deserves to be said than what I can provide here. Jesse Pinkman alone could warrant more discussion than most lead characters on television. Everything that happens and every character that makes a memorable entrance and exit are a part of the greater whole of this series, but it's undeniably a show with a single element at its core. Breaking Bad is the story of Walter Hartwell White, a desperate man who found salvation in change.

P.S. I tried to recommend this series as strongly as I could without giving away much more than the basic premise. I hope those of you who have not yet given Breaking Bad a try seek it out. It's wholly worth your time, and I can't think of a series (of those I've seen) that better exemplifies the notion that we're currently in a golden age of television. Breaking Bad is quite simply the kind of accomplishment that the medium will likely not see again for some time.

*AMC extended the fifth season's 13 episode order to 16, and aired them over two years (8 in 2012, 8 in 2013).

The Fugitive

On the run, searching for the one-armed man.

by Hunter Isham

        "A murdered wife. A one-armed man. An obsessed detective. The chase begins." That's the tagline to the 1993 thriller The Fugitive, based on the popular television show about Dr. Richard Kimble, a man wrongly convicted for the murder of his wife who sets out to find the killer, a one-armed man, while playing a game of cat and mouse with a U.S. Marshall. This film is probably the best adaptation of a TV show ever made, validated not only by strong box office and high praise from critics, but also by a slew of nominations and awards, including a nomination for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. It's a gripping film that succeeds in every way imaginable, and while I wasn't around when it was first released in August 1993, I can say that as the film turns 20 it's held up for me over the seven or so years that I've been a fan.
        Harrison Ford is Kimble, and he gives one of his best performances as a man who struggles to cope with his wife's violent death while he sets out to solve the mystery and clear his name. Ford no longer needs to prove himself in the action/thriller genre, having years of excellent genre films under his belt, but his turn as Kimble shines through what, in a lesser film, would have been mundane chases and fights. An early scene in which he's interrogated about the murder demonstrate's his truly great, and rarely recognized, ability as an actor, with Kimble's fragility at the forefront, and the now trademark Ford gruffness nowhere to be seen. Richard Kimble is hardly an action hero in the mold of Indiana Jones, and Ford perfectly plays him as a smart man caught in one desperate situation after another. Of course, the chase would seem like nothing were it not for the dedicated Marshall Samuel Gerard, played to Oscar-winning perfection by the incomparable Tommy Lee Jones. He has had many roles that perfectly suit his look and demeanor, Thaddeus Stevens in Lincoln being the most recent, and Gerard fits in with that group splendidly. However, one thing that stands out about the U.S. Marshall is his wit and spry personality. Jones is more active in The Fugitive than I had remembered, and it's wonderful to see him in a role that makes him just as much an action star as the lead character. The rest of the cast is rounded out with some familiar faces (Sela Ward, Julianne Moore, Jane Lynch, Joe Pantoliano), and they're all great in their roles, but there is simply no mistaking that this is Ford and Jones' movie.
        Director Andrew Davis takes his top-notch cast and uses it to populate a sprawling rural Illinois and Chicago, making great use of the city and some of its trademarks. One chase scene is even staged amidst the famous Saint Patrick's Day Parade, adding a bit of local flavor to the film, something that gives it a fine texture rather than a generic, forgettable big city backdrop. Davis also stages some fantastic stunts, the most breathtaking of which comes early in the film when a train barrels down the tracks toward the crashed bus carrying the convicted Kimble. A real train was used; no miniatures or computer work here. Like the tube train crashing through the old station in Skyfall, it's the kind of spectacular effects work that makes you think, "How did they pull that off? It looks so real!" Davis and his screenwriters, Jeb Stuart and David Twohy, keep things moving at a good clip, as the film never drags or speeds along too quickly. We get all of the pertinent information in a way that's both clear and intriguing, and best of all, the twists of the plot don't distract from the thrills. Helping to tie everything together, James Newton Howard contributes a score that keeps your pulse racing while you stay firmly planted on the edge of your seat.
        When a movie based on a television show is nominated alongside Schindler's List* and In the Name of the Father, attention must be paid. Even more so when such a film contains some of the best work of two legendary actors' careers. Harrison Ford has starred in so many classics that it's easy to forget the ones that don't involve bullwhips and lightsabers, and The Fugitive is unfortunately one of his triumphs that falls through the cracks. Most people probably remember it more for Tommy Lee Jones, something that they would do without fault, but Ford is the emotional center of the film, and it is his work in conjunction with Jones' that makes the film work so spectacularly. There are many films I watch without finding any faults, and The Fugitive is certainly one of those movies, but it becomes something greater by being a film that is not only perfectly executed, but also a film that rises above the conventions and unoriginal story that sink so many films of both the thriller and TV adaptation classes. The Fugitive defies expectations in every way possible, and it does so with such heart-racing style and substance that you'll be left wondering why it hasn't reached the classic-status it so rightfully deserves. 10/10


*Funny story, Ford presented the Best Picture Oscar to his buddy Steven Spielberg for Schindler's List.

All Of Me

A Wild and Crazy Concept

by Hunter Isham

        Director Carl Reiner's 1984 film All Of Me is about as high concept as a comedy can get before it requires the special effects budget of Ghostbusters, but strong performances sold me on the strange twist on a body-swap that occurs in this film without the presence of big thunder and lighting or any other such effects that tell you something supernatural has occurred. When the soul of the terminally ill millionaire Edwina Cutwater (Lily Tomlin) is accidentally transferred into the body of the slightly boring Roger Cobb (Steve Martin), we're treated to a hilarious sequence in which they struggle to coordinate by moving the respective halves of Cobb's body they each control. The film's humor isn't as consistent as Martin's pitch-perfect performance, but when such a talented comedian is given material with so much potential, it really doesn't matter that the finished product isn't an all-time classic.

        All Of Me is essentially Freaky Friday with just one person, it's the kind of premise that is sold on the talents of the cast, and Martin absolutely nails his performance as he carries the film and its fairly simple concept through its 93-minute runtime. He's proven himself a competent actor throughout his career, and his comedic abilities were known long before he made this film, but this film offers a perfect melding of the "wild and crazy" persona Martin built up and the regular, relatable type he plays so well in films like Parenthood and Father of the Bride. Roger Cobb is the latter, while the Cobb partially inhabited by Edwina Cutwater is the former. Martin can play a character who is the joke of a movie, but here he plays a normal guy whose life becomes the joke. He's naturally funny in All Of Me, but he rarely elicits a hearty laugh when not struggling with Lily Tomlin's haughty and inexperienced Edwina, a fact that makes his focus in this part all the more incredible.

        Given how many sentences in this review I've devoted to Steve Martin, it may come as a surprise that other people make this movie a success too, but they do so, even if it's Martin's show. Lily Tomlin, though not onscreen for most of the film (once she's dead, we see her as Cobb's reflection in mirrors), is perfectly cast as Edwina, as her personality is omnipresent, and we often hear her speaking to Cobb in his head. Tomlin steals her early scenes with Martin, and provides the perfect blueprint on which he can base her mannerisms and specific vocality. Perhaps one of the best scenes for this balance between Tomlin's mind and Martin's body comes when Cobb falls asleep in court, and Edwina is left to "act like a man" without letting down her host. The rest of the cast is fairly unremarkable, although this really isn't anyone else's film. Victoria Tennant is fine as a love interest and the intended destination of Edwina's soul, but her strength here is providing Martin with an interesting character off of which he can bounce his different personalities.

        Writer Phil Alden Robinson (Field of Dreams, Sneakers) provides Reiner, Tomlin, and Martin with a strong script to work from, and their collective focus is what makes All Of Me a success. Steve Martin has quite possibly never given a stronger performance, as he takes some of his strongest qualities as a performer and blends them together into a character that can be both wild and crazy, and completely relatable. Like many other films Martin's starred in that are good but not great, All Of Me is a story worth telling because its cast is populated with, and led by, professionals who elevate the material. I can only imagine how terrible this film could have been had the physical comedy Martin executes and Tomlin's portrayal of the trapped soul not meshed as exceedingly well as they do. Some comedies, like Ghostbusters, go big because so much of their humor can be derived from the hilarity that ensues when you think of the wrong monster, but others, like All Of Me, have big concepts with relatively small executions, yet they can be just as funny*. All Of Me falls short of greatness because it lacks a consistency that makes legendary comedies just that, but the great elements here are so good, with all the necessary pieces aligning, that we can forget the shortcomings and simply marvel at how Steve Marin can make playing two people in one body a fresh, fun idea. 8/10

*I must say that Ghostbusters is a towering comedy classic. A 10/10 if there ever was one, if only because of Bill Murray in the Twinkie scene. All Of Me excels because Martin is as good in it as Murray is in Ghostbusters, but the latter film is so strong in every other way (Aykroyd, Ramis, Weaver, Moranis, the title theme song) that it's no wonder why it's the one of these two 1984 comedies that has become a revered part of pop culture.