Breaking Bad is one of the greatest shows of all-time, so just like last year, UPROXX is going all-out on our coverage of the show this season, its last. Cajun Boy will be writing the recap, while I’ll be handling the Breaking Badass Power Rankings, which will, well, rank the most badass characters from every episode. Why “Badass?” Obviously, the so-not-clever-that-it’s-clever name, but also because Breaking Bad is the kind of a show that makes you want to drink an entire bottle before watching it, to soothe your soon-to-be-tense nerves. That’s pretty badass.
Not Ranked: Old Man Money Bags, Uncle Nazi and the Good Time Gang, Holly, Gomie, and Declan.
Oh great, someone broke the Jessebot 3000. His already on-the-fritz CPU must have exploded after he learned the hard way that it’s not money that makes the world go ’round; it’s a merry-go-round in the middle of a park in New Mexico that you almost crashed your car into after throwing gobs of money out the window, because fractured adolescence. (Either that, or AMC’s unfortunate “Watch The Last House on the Left…with Breaking Bad‘s Aaron Paul” promos — I wouldn’t my name associated with that movie, either.) Jessebot is the key to Hank’s case, and this entire season: will he speak? Can he speak? Will Hank know who “Mr. White” is? And most importantly, what will Badger and Skinny Pete do with their lives if Jesse joins the Witness Protection Program?
Well, at least we’ve found the setting for Saul’s spin-off: sunny Belize. He already owns a shirt the color of their flag, so he’s halfway there. (The other half is wondering if his Statue of Liberty float can fit into an overhead bin.)
It was almost a Gunfight at the Schrader Corral, although considering Hank’s luck, he would have missed Walt and hit that poor kid steering his remote-control car around instead. So maybe it’s for the best that they left their sparring in the garage (what happens in the garage, stays in the garage), especially because Hank’s not thinking straight yet. He knows what he wants — MUST. STOP. HEISENBERG. — but he’s going about it all wrong. Hank’s stewing in his own pool of rage and Schraderbrau, and his desperation shows during his interrogation with Skyler. By episode’s end, though, he’s found the right person to manipulate: the Pink Man.
Skyler? Did you know then? About what happened? What happened with Hank? Skyler? Can you hear me? Can you not hear me? Skyler? Skyler? Are you listening to my questions? About Hank and Walt? And the meth? Skyler? And the shooting? Have you heard about this? Skyler? Am I just going to keep on asking questions until I slap you? Did Josh think I was wearing a wire and that’s why you didn’t say anything for so long? Skyler? Do you think my purple tea kettle was a bit much, even for me? Is it shocking how little I like Purple Rain? Skyler?
(The answer to all, “Yes.”)
Walt’s getting bumped down a few notches this week, not because he did anything wrong (OK, he’s done everything wrong since the pilot, but you know what I mean — his GPS memorizing was a stroke of brilliance), but because he didn’t verbally terrorize anyone. Oh, wait. He did. To Saul. Um, well, then I’m keeping Walt, and his sporty new bandanna, here because he can’t be number one every week, can he? He can.
Skyler’s in deep, and she’s pissed. Pissed at Hank for wanting to bring down Heisenberg not because he wants to help her, but because he wants to catch his (Walter) white whale. Pissed at Marie for TAKING MY BABY. Pissed at Walter Jr. for not giving brunch a shot. Pissed at herself for being pissed at Marie, her sister. The only person she doesn’t seem truly pissed at is Walt, or at least his giant pile of mobile money. She doesn’t talk to Hank, but she does semi-affectionately, if guiltily comfort her husband, after he passes out in their bathroom. Skyler’s smart enough to know that they’re in so deep, there’s no way they’re climbing back out — the best option is to keep quiet and keep the money and keep the baby and keep the house (uh oh). She only has two options (to rat on Walt or not to rat on Walt), and she’s picked the one that doesn’t end with someone in prison. For now.
Meanwhile, in This Guy’s life, everything’s going quite well, thank you.
When you see a blue-breasted Lydia come out of a hole, they say it’s good luck. I’m combining Lydia and Todd into one entry because one wouldn’t have been able to accomplish what they wanted without the other. Todd (who I mistakenly blamed last week — while listening to my Crucifictorious CD tonight, I’ll hang my head in shame) wants to cook, Lydia wants Todd to cook, and she needs a whole lot of Declan’s guys taken out, too. Luckily, Todd’s party posse is made up of Nazis and just like that, ten bodies, two birds, one stone. Brutal and brilliant. If I were Lydia, I’d be worried about my long-term future with Uncle Nazi and the Good Time Gang, but as long as the meth’s being cooked, the money’s getting made, and she won’t end up another forgotten corpse in the middle of a desert junkyard.
Life is like a hurricane, here in Albuquerque
RVs, buses, Aztecs, W.W. is such a jerky
You might solve a mystery or end up in a bathtub with acid
Everybody-but-Huell-and-Kuby-is-f*cked tales, oo-oo.
They had to, I had to.