It helps, of course, that this is simply a spectacular episode under any conditions. Much more low-key than we have been used to as of late, yes, but stunningly executed nevertheless. It is the very best episode Peter Gould has ever written, and considering he has been one of Vince Gilligan’s top lieutenants from the very beginning, that is really saying something. The dialogue throughout just crackles, akin to the best of modern crime or western storytelling – I was specifically reminded of Cormac McCarthy, Elmore Leonard, and the Coen Brothers on multiple occasions (*) – and the pace is just stupendously measured. The hour ran in a 75-minute time slot, which is not hugely extended for Breaking Bad – the show has long since run in 65-minute periods – but just enough to let every second of the hour breathe, lending each individual scene the weight and tenor of great literature, as if each act were a separate chapter in a book. Gould also served as director, and helms the episode with a steady, confident, and utterly assured hand. While not as visually gripping as the recent, heavily cinematic hours helmed by Michelle MacLaren or Rian Johnson(**), there is such a tremendous, oppressive sense of atmosphere throughout, a pervading sense of cold, icy dread and emotional confusion that extends beyond the wintry New Hampshire locale.
In short, “Granite State” is simply damn good television, and I think one of the best testaments to that, surprisingly enough, is the episode’s handling of Todd, a character I have always found intriguing on one level or another without ever feeling fully invested in. But here, as a result of the expertly measured pace and gloriously confident writing I mentioned earlier, Todd is utterly fascinating, at once more palpable and more enigmatic than he ever has been before. His three key scenes – threatening Skyler in her home, giving ice cream to Jesse, and attempting to slyly declare his affection for Lydia – all benefit from the hour’s extended run-time, allowing Gould’s writing and Jesse Plemons’ performance to go in so many different directions all at the same time without ever feeling disjointed. Plemons is nothing short of terrifying during the home invasion scene, threatening Skyler in his politely creepy fashion, and what is so scary about it all is that, no matter how emotionless he looks in the moment, we cannot define him as an outright psychopath, because in those next two scenes, there is clearly something more complex going on inside him.
Contrasted with the Skyler confrontation, his ‘friendly’ chat with Jesse is all the more unsettling, because it is damn near impossible to get a read on his true motivations or thoughts. Is he being ‘kind’ to Jesse just to keep his prisoner docile? Does this truly qualify as some twisted form of ‘friendship’ to him? Is it all about the perverted pleasure of dominance? As we see in his awkward, back-to-back conversation with Lydia, all of these things could be simultaneously be true, because Todd seemingly is capable of emotional – there is obvious, pained longing on his face when he talks to Lydia – and many of his criminal efforts stem out of the basic emotional urge to be accepted by those he admires. But why does he admire them? What was it about Walter White that had him bursting with respect and a desire to please? What is it he now sees in twitchy, self-absorbed Lydia that makes him love-sick? Are these actual emotions he feels? Or is he some form of sociopath, incapable of actual feelings but trying his best to replicate them in his own particular, disturbed way?
Theoretically, this much discussion of Todd should not be necessary, given not only that he is a relatively minor character, but that we are so close to the end and have so many other characters to worry about. But one of Breaking Bad’s greatest strengths – maybe its absolute best, bar none – is its ability to fully flesh out characters in dramatically economic fashion, no matter what level of significance we perceive them to exist at. I do not know if Peter Gould’s intention, in writing those scenes, was to spark several paragraphs work of discussion on Todd’s innermost thoughts and feelings – those scenes serve several other narrative or atmospheric functions at the same time, and service other characters as well – but one of the byproducts of great writing is rich, highly dissectible character work. Should Todd turn out to be important during the finale, even if it is only for a scene or two, the understanding we gained here will therefore be crucial – future scenes will be infinitely deeper for the deep, transfixing material provided here.
(*)I particularly love how Gould has Jesse describe Todd as “That Opie-dead-eyed piece of shit,” and Uncle Jack define as Lydia as someone “so uptight she’s probably got a woodchipper for a coochie.” Wonderful, vulgar poetry, and absolutely definitive summations of these two late-additions to the cast.
(**)Though there is one shot in the episode that stands tall among the best visual compositions I have ever seen on television: That of Jesse attempting to escape, perched on top of his makeshift stool, covered in darkness in the center of the frame, with the bars shining light at the top that cascade into black/yellow patterns on the two walls at a dynamic angle, splitting the frame into three distinct segments. Stunning photography. When television drama finally becomes a field of critical study in academia sometime in the future, I guarantee you that shot will be somewhere in the ‘Cinematography’ chapter of the ‘Intro to Television’ textbook.
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