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| Scene from El Camino |
It has been 11 years since Breaking Bad first hit the airwaves and slowly created a phenomenon. However, there's one piece of lore that comes up time and again: Jesse Pinkman wasn't built to last. The goofy drug-dealing former student of Walter White was supposed to have a shelf life, maybe disappearing by the end of the season. However, creator Vince Gilligan will be quick to admit that there was magic to Aaron Paul's performance. He gave the character a depth that was worth investing in, and it played well into the show's core structure for the remaining seasons. By the end, the show was just as ubiquitous with Jesse as it was Walter. The only issue is that Breaking Bad was always built to tell Walter's journey of how he destroyed everyone's lives. That isn't to say that other characters lacked arcs, but the story ended satisfyingly because the protagonist's story was complete.
But what about Jesse? He was last seen driving off into the night, laughing with excitement at his freedom. The belief that Walter freed him of a toxic partnership symbolized something richer, leaving fans to simply imagine what Jesse would do. El Camino arrives six years after that finale and gives a tale that gives Jesse his own narrative. For the first time, the Breaking Bad universe is completely free of the Walter White mythos and the results are staggering. Whereas Breaking Bad ends with a sense of optimism, El Camino reminds the world of the dour Albuquerque, New Mexico landscape that Jesse still needs to drive through. For two hours, the characters are alive again and it's great to see them all. However, it also is the first piece within Gilligan's puzzle that has a whiff of being inessential.
El Camino wastes no time picking up where the series left off. Jesse has driven through that gate and is fleeing. But to where exactly? Once it's clear that he has no answer, the plot begins to kick into gear. He is trapped in his situation, reflecting on the lives that have trapped him in various ways. There was, of course, Walter who grew to manipulate him. There was also Todd (Jesse Plemons), who literally trapped him in an attempt to make meth by attaching him to a base on the ceiling. There's also the demons inside, which come out in his isolated moments, worried that he'll never be free of the things that distract him. He is desperate, longing to escape to Alaska, far from the desert landscape that has informed the worst parts of his life. Even money seems to have trapped him, as he's unable to get anywhere without it.
Considering that Gilligan has existed in this world almost constantly since 2008 (there's also an Emmy-nominated spin-off called Better Call Saul), it's hard to go a corner of this film without feeling some form of nostalgia. Fans will quickly be able to pick up every cameo and reference to the series, giving brief moments that reflect on Walter's aftermath. He has destroyed ABQ and made it an unpleasant place to live. It makes sense why the landscape feels grimier than before, where a police car feels one streetlight away. It only plays into how much Jesse cannot escape. Even in a flashback where he talks to Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks) about starting anew, there's the belief that nobody can truly rid themselves of the past. Considering that this is a franchise with two major players in the Witness Protection Program, it seems more like a challenge than a warning.
It's to Aaron Paul's credit that he carries most of the film with nothing more than a despairing stare. Every time he believes that he's about to find his freedom, a new obstacle arises and suddenly he is back in his hoodlum days. He needs to use his wits to escape the traps: a staple in Breaking Bad. Even when he tries to become a better person, he's stuck relying on toxic tricks he's picked up. He has nobody there for him anymore. He's alone in the world, at best relying on his friends Badger (Matt Jones) and Skinny Pete (Charles Baker) for a great piece of comedic relief. Even then, it's underlined with a sense of hospitality because Skinny Pete believes that Jesse is "my hero." It's a very brief glimmer of optimism that's left in the world for Jesse, who is constantly at odds with turning himself in or finding dirty ways to get money.
One of El Camino's biggest goals is to provide more of a backstory to Jesse's time as a prisoner of Todd's (Jesse Plemons). In the extended moment, Jesse helps Todd bury a body by being helped out of his imprisonment for an afternoon. He sees Todd's apartment (itself a location of great significance to the plot) where the known child-murdering psychopath shows a sense of kindness amid a glib disregard of a corpse lying on his floor. He makes Jesse soup and tries to undermine him by doing kind gestures every time that Jesse threatens violence. The violence could free him, but Jesse feels trapped. There's no amount of bullets that could stop him from feeling that way. It's how Todd gets as far as he does. It leads to a strange relationship that tries to sympathize Todd even as Jesse's state becomes more damaged. Walter may have abused him, but Todd feels worse, and not just because Jesse is forced to travel in the trunk with the corpse in order to not be seen.
Whereas most episodes of Breaking Bad find levity between humor and darkness, this story feels like it falls mostly towards the darkness. After the Skinny Pete and Badger scene, it's a long while before anything resembling optimism shows up. There are nonstop news pieces about Walter's notoriety and Jesse being an accomplice. It's the type of route that leads Paul to play Jesse with a growing sense of neurotic desperation. To watch him fall into yelling matches, practically falling to his knees to avoid tears, is what he does best. Jesse has become an imprisoned figure that you want to see become free. However, there are constant close calls that ratchet the tension, and suddenly you're left worried that the best he can do is embody another prison. It's one that Walter couldn't face.
The landscape of ABQ has changed to the point that Jesse feels like a sore thumb. Even the beloved fast-food institution Los Pollos Hermanos has disappeared and is replaced by Twister's. It's here that Gilligan gives off the impression that there's nothing left to discuss within the Breaking Bad universe. There's a bittersweet undertone that everything has passed on, leaving behind demons. It helps to make El Camino feel more like a conclusion while also adding a depressing subtext for audiences who have become obsessed with the world since 2008. Considering that Better Call Saul is reported to be approaching its end, Gilligan feels like he's having trouble letting go. Instead of making a story of Jesse driving directly to freedom, he wants to say goodbye in a gradual fashion, relying on the familiar dizzying photography that twists a floorboard and creates odd P.O.V. shots within machines. It should also be noted that composer Dave Porter continues to be a secret weapon for the franchise, especially with this gripping score that continues his musical themes from the show.
Was El Camino worth its merit by the end? On one hand, it's great fan service that allows audiences to spend time with characters one last time. It also helps to add depth to Jesse, who some feel was sidelined in the final season. Whereas it was always intended for Walter to have a close-ended finale, Jesse's ambiguous conclusion felt like a richer metaphor for the audience. He could be going anywhere. He was free of this terrible world. In that way, the movie relays no new information. In fact, there are aspects of the film that feel downright unnecessary (such as a self-proclaimed western shoot-out that feels more like a reference to the show's constant comparisons to the western genre than actual sense). Even then, the flashbacks together make a picture of the people who made a difference in Jesse's life, including a great cameo from Bryan Cranston as Walter, and reveal just how much potential Jesse has... if only he could free himself of the drug-dealing business. For the first time, it feels like there's clarity to Jesse's future. Whether you want to imagine the Breaking Bad finale as open-ended or a symbolic closure will determine how much El Camino ends up meaning. Thankfully, it's far from a cynical Netflix cash-in. However, its attempt to add wrinkles to the franchise throws away one of the show's best mysteries. It gets happy, but not for quite a while.
Is El Camino a worthy extension of the Breaking Bad franchise? There's definitely plenty of heart thrown into every frame and idea. However, the concepts this time around aren't as engaging as they were before. For as much as the movie is carried by Aaron Paul's brilliant performance, it's not always the best story. It's one that says goodbye simply by looking out the window. It's a painful thing to witness, but for some Jesse deserved to have his fate explored just as reverently as Walter. Considering how oddly that would've fit into the show, it makes sense why this film exists. However, it leaves one of the best mysteries that the show left behind and makes it literal. It's not disappointing, but it has the detriment of answering a question that most fans had their own answers to six years ago. It's good and features a cast doing top tier work, but it's far from the essential text that even the prequel series Better Call Saul is. It's sad to say goodbye, but hopefully, this is a permanent one.
It's to Aaron Paul's credit that he carries most of the film with nothing more than a despairing stare. Every time he believes that he's about to find his freedom, a new obstacle arises and suddenly he is back in his hoodlum days. He needs to use his wits to escape the traps: a staple in Breaking Bad. Even when he tries to become a better person, he's stuck relying on toxic tricks he's picked up. He has nobody there for him anymore. He's alone in the world, at best relying on his friends Badger (Matt Jones) and Skinny Pete (Charles Baker) for a great piece of comedic relief. Even then, it's underlined with a sense of hospitality because Skinny Pete believes that Jesse is "my hero." It's a very brief glimmer of optimism that's left in the world for Jesse, who is constantly at odds with turning himself in or finding dirty ways to get money.
One of El Camino's biggest goals is to provide more of a backstory to Jesse's time as a prisoner of Todd's (Jesse Plemons). In the extended moment, Jesse helps Todd bury a body by being helped out of his imprisonment for an afternoon. He sees Todd's apartment (itself a location of great significance to the plot) where the known child-murdering psychopath shows a sense of kindness amid a glib disregard of a corpse lying on his floor. He makes Jesse soup and tries to undermine him by doing kind gestures every time that Jesse threatens violence. The violence could free him, but Jesse feels trapped. There's no amount of bullets that could stop him from feeling that way. It's how Todd gets as far as he does. It leads to a strange relationship that tries to sympathize Todd even as Jesse's state becomes more damaged. Walter may have abused him, but Todd feels worse, and not just because Jesse is forced to travel in the trunk with the corpse in order to not be seen.
Whereas most episodes of Breaking Bad find levity between humor and darkness, this story feels like it falls mostly towards the darkness. After the Skinny Pete and Badger scene, it's a long while before anything resembling optimism shows up. There are nonstop news pieces about Walter's notoriety and Jesse being an accomplice. It's the type of route that leads Paul to play Jesse with a growing sense of neurotic desperation. To watch him fall into yelling matches, practically falling to his knees to avoid tears, is what he does best. Jesse has become an imprisoned figure that you want to see become free. However, there are constant close calls that ratchet the tension, and suddenly you're left worried that the best he can do is embody another prison. It's one that Walter couldn't face.
The landscape of ABQ has changed to the point that Jesse feels like a sore thumb. Even the beloved fast-food institution Los Pollos Hermanos has disappeared and is replaced by Twister's. It's here that Gilligan gives off the impression that there's nothing left to discuss within the Breaking Bad universe. There's a bittersweet undertone that everything has passed on, leaving behind demons. It helps to make El Camino feel more like a conclusion while also adding a depressing subtext for audiences who have become obsessed with the world since 2008. Considering that Better Call Saul is reported to be approaching its end, Gilligan feels like he's having trouble letting go. Instead of making a story of Jesse driving directly to freedom, he wants to say goodbye in a gradual fashion, relying on the familiar dizzying photography that twists a floorboard and creates odd P.O.V. shots within machines. It should also be noted that composer Dave Porter continues to be a secret weapon for the franchise, especially with this gripping score that continues his musical themes from the show.
Was El Camino worth its merit by the end? On one hand, it's great fan service that allows audiences to spend time with characters one last time. It also helps to add depth to Jesse, who some feel was sidelined in the final season. Whereas it was always intended for Walter to have a close-ended finale, Jesse's ambiguous conclusion felt like a richer metaphor for the audience. He could be going anywhere. He was free of this terrible world. In that way, the movie relays no new information. In fact, there are aspects of the film that feel downright unnecessary (such as a self-proclaimed western shoot-out that feels more like a reference to the show's constant comparisons to the western genre than actual sense). Even then, the flashbacks together make a picture of the people who made a difference in Jesse's life, including a great cameo from Bryan Cranston as Walter, and reveal just how much potential Jesse has... if only he could free himself of the drug-dealing business. For the first time, it feels like there's clarity to Jesse's future. Whether you want to imagine the Breaking Bad finale as open-ended or a symbolic closure will determine how much El Camino ends up meaning. Thankfully, it's far from a cynical Netflix cash-in. However, its attempt to add wrinkles to the franchise throws away one of the show's best mysteries. It gets happy, but not for quite a while.
Is El Camino a worthy extension of the Breaking Bad franchise? There's definitely plenty of heart thrown into every frame and idea. However, the concepts this time around aren't as engaging as they were before. For as much as the movie is carried by Aaron Paul's brilliant performance, it's not always the best story. It's one that says goodbye simply by looking out the window. It's a painful thing to witness, but for some Jesse deserved to have his fate explored just as reverently as Walter. Considering how oddly that would've fit into the show, it makes sense why this film exists. However, it leaves one of the best mysteries that the show left behind and makes it literal. It's not disappointing, but it has the detriment of answering a question that most fans had their own answers to six years ago. It's good and features a cast doing top tier work, but it's far from the essential text that even the prequel series Better Call Saul is. It's sad to say goodbye, but hopefully, this is a permanent one.
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