New(ish) Releases from 2019: Ad Astra and El Camino

No Spoilers for either show. Read away!!

Ad Astra (2019)

Director: James Gray

A decent enough sci-fi flick with enough to keep a person tuned it, but not inventive enough to stand out very much.

In a not-too distant future, Brad Pitt plays Roy McBride, an astronaut called upon by the government to embark on a mysterious mission to the far reaches of the Solar System. Some sort of strange energy is emanating from a location there, and it threatens to destroy the entire system. As if that weren't enough, the government believes that the person behind the imminent catastrophe is the last astronaut sent to the area, none other than McBride's own father, H. Clifford (Tommy Lee Jones), long hailed as a national hero and icon.

The movie is a solid, space-faring sci-fi flick that does the sci-fi elements better than the emotional ones. Like the very best mission-to-space flicks - I'm thinking 2001, Interstellar, and Europa Report, among others - Ad Astra maintains a cool, meditative tone throughout, especially once the story brings Roy outside of the Earth's atmosphere. The vision of director and co-writer James Gray is an engaging one that seems grounded in a very believable possible future. There is a thrilling pursuit on the Moon, and a rather striking and eerie vision of what Mars might become, which offer some nice food for thought on how humans may be interacting with the nearest celestial bodies long before the century is over. Anyone who enjoys such topics and themes is bound to appreciate these aspects of the movie. And there is the greater mystery of what, exactly, is the threat in deep space to pull one along through Roy's journey farther from home.

The more personal story about Roy and his father? Not nearly as engaging. While Pitt and Jones play their roles perfectly well, the entire relationship never feels like it is offering anything that is novel or surprising. Right from the jump, it's clear that Roy's mission is as much about finding closure with his father, long-presumed dead. I suppose one could read a certain amount of symbolism into the narrative about an absent father's ability to mysteriously have the ability to annihilate one's world, but that's a bit of a stretch. Because Roy is a rather repressed individual (not uncommon for astronauts, who need the ability to subdue and overcome their own nerves), there is a certain detachment which runs through the film. Had there been a few more moments of vulnerability sprinkled in here or there, the film may have had a bit more emotional impact. As it was, though, there was only so much pathos to be found.

If you're like me, and enjoy good space-faring movies for their ability to inspire awe at the cosmos, then Ad Astra can give you that. If you're looking for the more human drama elements, though, this one may leave you wanting.

El Camino (2019)

Director: Vince Gilligan

Compelling, entertaining, and satisfying sequel movie to the brilliant Breaking Bad TV show, which ended its outstanding run in 2013.

The sixty-odd episode run of Breaking Bad represented one of the very best TV shows of all time, created and run by Vince Gilligan. It saw the rise and eventual fall of high school chemistry teacher-turned-drug kingpin, Walter White, who used his genius for chemistry to concoct the most potent formula for crystal meth ever known. White, who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, took this bizarre career shift in an effort to quickly earn enough money to support his family after his impending death. The problem was that, once White got a taste for the money and nefarious reputation which his recipe brought him, he found that he liked it. So much, in fact, that it sent him spiraling down darker and darker paths in order to maintain and grow his place in the drug-peddling world. By the end of the show's run, White had destroyed or alienated everything which he had once held dear; and although he found some measure of penance and rectification, he still died a tragic and lonely death.

White's partner through nearly his entire journey was Jesse Pinkman, a confused former student of his who had been dabbling lightly in the drug trade during his few years removed from high school. Pinkman, played brilliantly by Aaron Paul, while likable and funny in many ways, was always a lost soul, never knowing exactly who he was or what he wanted from life. As such, he was ripe to be pulled into the dark gravity of Walter White's drive and obsession. As White's decisions grew grimmer and more self-serving as the show progressed, Jesse felt more and more tied to him, despite his pangs of conscience and general reluctance to get so deeply involved in such dastardly deeds. In the show's finale, the last image we see of Jesse is him driving away from a white supremacist compound, where he had been brutally imprisoned and forced to cook meth for them for six straight months.

This is where El Camino picks up the story. In the hours immediately after the fiery end of Walter White, in which he freed Jesse, gunned down and killed all of his tormentors, and then died himself, Jesse has to elude the police as they look to put the pieces together of the entire bloodbath at the compound. A beaten and traumatized Jesse must seek out any friendly faces and places of sanctuary that he can, in an effort to not only escape capture and certain imprisonment, but also to truly decide who he is and what he wants to do with the rest of his life, should he even have one.

The movie is every bit as good as Breaking Bad was, even if it doesn't have the power of some of that show's most memorable moments (think Walter's showdown with Tuco or Gus Fring's death). El Camino certainly has a few great thriller sequences, with some fun twists of their own, but a two-hour movie is never going to be able to have the build-up necessary for the explosive moments that a longer-form TV show can offer. This movie does, however, make the most of its time, balancing Jesse's soul-searching and recovery from a horrific situation with the more cat-and-mouse elements that come from his scrambling away from his pursuers and towards an uncertain future.

Jesse, after cleaning himself up a bit, during one of several
moments of desperation. Viewers of Breaking Bad may
recognize the blurred outlines in the back of Skinny Pete and
Badger, two of several familiar faces who appear in the film.

The show is split roughly in half, with the tale alternating between the roughly 48-hours immediately after Jesse's escape and a series of flashbacks, some going way back into Breaking Bad's first season, when he and Walter White were just getting into the meth-cooking business together. We get to see scenes and moments never revealed during the original show, and they all make maximum use of the many open areas in the story, adding extra shading to certain familiar characters, some friendly and others downright evil. It all makes a great follow-up and addendum to the entire story.

I can't say enough about Aaron Paul as Jesse Pinkman. This film requires nearly every bit of the immense acting chops and range that he showed during Breaking Bad, and he seemed able to get right back into the character's head, despite having been away from it for a good six years. He exhibits, by turns, all of the terror, misplaced swagger, soul, and humor that he did at various points during the original story. Though Breaking Bad was mostly the story of Walter White, Jesse Pinkman was the soul and often the tragedy of the tale. Aaron Paul's ability to play the character with just the right type of vulnerability at just the right times is what elevated the show well above other drama/suspense/thriller fare.

Obviously, I can't recommend this movie highly enough for fans of Breaking Bad. If you haven't seen the show, then the movie won't make much sense to you. In fact, you should stay well away if you haven't watched the original show. It will mostly baffle. But feel free to use this as yet another endorsement from me to go ahead and start watching Breaking Bad. I've watched the entire series twice now, with a likely third time coming at some point in the future. It's brilliant, and El Camino only further enhanced the entire amazing show. Now, we just have to wait for the next season of Better Call Saul for more stories from this incredible tale that Vince Gilligan has created. 

Idiot Boxing: Breaking Bad full rewatch (2008-2013)

I was relatively late to the Breaking Bad phenomenon. Of course I had heard about it's popularity and critical accolades during its initial rise to prominence back around 2010. But it wasn't until the series was nearly wrapped up in 2013 that I started playing catch up by working through the entire series. As most people, I found it thoroughly engaging, entertaining, and highly original. I enjoyed it enough to know that, at some point in the future, I would likely rewatch the entire series again.

Well, after three excellent seasons of the spinoff prequel Better Call Saul and recently channel surfing my way into one of the more memorable scenes from Breaking Bad earlier this year, the time came. Thanks to the marvel of modern streaming, the entire five-season, 62-episode series is sitting right there in Netflix just begging to be binged. So binge I did, not being completely sure of just how much I would enjoy the entire (roughly 46-and-a-half hour) ride on a second time.

In short, the show was even better the second time.

It speaks highly of a story, whether in literature or other media, when it is still compelling after you know the key plot points and the ultimate outcomes for the characters. Breaking Bad is a prime example of this. The first time I watched the series, it took about two seasons before I realized that Walter White was not some sort of sympathetic anti-hero who would eventually see the light. Rather, he was a warped, angry, vicious monster buried deep within the exterior of an impotent suburban schlub. Over the course of the series, he makes one decision after another which peels back another layer of the sad sack exterior to reveal a person dying to be "the man," but almost never wanting to admit his selfish urges to others or even himself. Though White commits some rather heinous acts in the first season, one could somewhat justify them as acting out of desperation. However, as the story progresses and White thrusts himself deeper into the world of mass production and distribution of the lethally addictive drug crystal meth, it becomes clearer that it is all just the means through which he hopes to upstage everyone whom he feels has slighted or underestimated him over the course of his adult life. These gradual revelations are compelling to watch, even as unsavory as they are.

One consistently compelling aspect of the show was its constant focus on problem solving - a theme as old as human storytelling itself. And Breaking Bad was masterful at it. Still, this was only window dressing compared to the deeper narrative at work. The tale of Walter White himself can be seen as rollicking, eerily dark and violent American tragedy. In classic Greek tragedy fashion, White is a man possessed of true genius-level talent - in science and chemistry, to be precise. It is quite clear that he could have been, and in fact at one time nearly was, a force for exceptional good in the world. And yet, for reasons we can infer related to White's own pride, he turned his back on a chance to have a career filled with tremendous rewards, both intellectual and financial. When the show essentially picks up nearly two decades later, we eventually gets hints and clues as to how much of Walter's humanity still exists, in contrast with the bitter, vengeful, selfish, and extremely dangerous creature we see revealed. While there are plenty of moments during the course of the show when it is easy to see Walter as a thoroughly corrupted force of pure evil, there are also just enough moments when the little that is left of his compassion show through. These moments keep Walter from ever becoming a one-dimensional villain, and the story is that much stronger for it.

Jesse and Hank, two of the best-formed and best-acted
characters you're likely to find in any TV show. Actors Aaron
Paul and Dean Norris brought every bit of intensity, tragedy,
and comedy to life through these dynamic forces in the show.

While the focus on the protagonist carries much of the show's powerful story, any successful 60-plus episode drama needs compelling secondary and tertiary characters, and Breaking Bad has them in spades. On this second viewing of the series, I had a much greater appreciation for Jesse Pinkman's story arc, along with Aaron Paul's ability to bring it to life. While Pinkman is, along with virtually every other character, a damaged person, he is arguably the most well-rounded and sympathetic of a varyingly bad lot. His journey from being a burned-out, slacker druggy into and through the world of deadly-serious, top-level illegal drug manufacturing is as carefully told as Walter White's. It is eminently fascinating to see Jesse try to navigate just who he is, who he wants to be, and how he deals with some of the despicable acts he performs at the behest of the vastly more capable and domineering figures around him. In an odd way, he emerges as the closest thing to a real soul that the series has, and it is through Jesse that disturbed protagonist Walter White's story meets its complex and poetic conclusion. Almost on par with Jesse is Walter's brother-in-law Hank, whose character and story arc I appreciated even more this time through the series. Beyond Pinkman and Hank, the show boasts a treasure trove of other brilliant, if terrifying and warped, characters. Whether it was ice-cold drug kingpin Gustavo Fring, dead-eyed security expert Mike Ehrmentrout, sleazebag lawyer Saul Goodman, or any of the many other colorful players, by its third season the show is teeming with people whom you are dying to see again.

As if a great narrative and characters aren't enough to make for a great show, Breaking Bad creator Vince Gilligan clearly put a premium on using the medium of film to great visual effect. As we've also seen with this show's prequel series Better Call Saul, every episode features at least one segment of purely visual storytelling. These are often done with some of the most consistently excellent opening scenes in TV show history, with nearly every one coming at you from a different visual and narrative angle and asking you to figure out just what the initially bizarre or cryptic images are telling you about the greater story. It is easy to find shows that overuse dialogue and exposition to tell their stories these days, but it is far more difficult to find shows that have the patience and respect for their viewers to use the moving picture to engage the audience in the ways that Breaking Bad did from the very start, with a tidy-whitey-clad Walter White barreling along a deserted desert road in a shoddy RV, wearing a gas mask. That's the kind of imagery that begs one to keep watching to see just what the hell is happening, and the show maintained that approach to storytelling for its entire run. Nearly every episode starts with a trippy, puzzling sequence of imagery, sans dialogue, that begs you to sort it out and pulls you into that chapter like any great opening line of a well-written story.

Just one of the many vibrant and initially enigmatic images
seen in an episode's opening sequence. Such intros became
a hallmark of the show, and acted almost as primers to get
us viewers' brains warmed up.

These days, if you ask people who watch TV what the best shows of the 21st century are, chances are that Breaking Bad will be, along with The Sopranos and The Wire, among their top five. After working my way through the entire series again, I can certainly see why. While someone could nitpick here and there, the show was the work of meticulous story craft and visual tale-telling. Although it is a serious commitment to watch nearly 50 hours of an entire series, I won't be surprised if, some years down the line, I fire it all up again for a third go-round. I simply cannot come up with higher praise than that.

On a more general side note, I'm thrilled to be in a time when certain networks in the U.S., most notably HBO, AMC, and FX, have finally figured out that the greatest shows do not need to run in indefinite perpetuity, until the profits start to sag. When one looks at what most people consider the very best TV shows of this "Golden Age of Television," one notices how they had a relatively short lifespan: roughly fifty to sixty episodes. That's all. And now we're even seeing shows like Fargo, which is constructed into mostly stand-alone seasons comprised of a tight, expertly crafted ten episodes. We TV viewers are in a great spot if more networks continue to follow the example set out by shows like Breaking Bad and its brethren.