Story Alchemy: Lessons from Breaking Bad
By Therese Walsh | November 3, 2015 |
A while back, I binge-watched the AMC series Breaking Bad. Like many, I found the show addicting for both its storytelling and characters, and wondered how that was the case when the story itself seemed not-so-attractive from its one-line alone: “high school chemistry teacher turns meth-producer after he learns he has terminal cancer.” At least it wouldn’t have been enough to draw me in. But I had many friends whose taste in story I did trust tell me I had to watch, so I did. And they were right: It was addicting, and the character arc for that aforementioned chemistry teacher, Walter White, was nothing short of brilliant.
After the binge, I spent a good chunk of time watching and reading interviews, interested to learn how the creator of the series, Vince Gilligan, made it work. How do you take an idea, a character, a plot, that may at first seem unapproachable and turn it into something extraordinary? That’s the definition of alchemy.
I’m going to play with the word “Breaking” here. In a Writers’ Room, “breaking” a scene means breaking it down into its necessary components. In other words, “breaking” is like a blueprint for building something.
“Breaking” Character Authentically
Vince Gilligan knew he had a concept he could run with when he conceived of a story arc that would take a typical family-man character and turn him into Scarface. While we might not have such dramatic arcs in our own story worlds, there are lessons here we can all apply to our work.
- Intertwine the internal and the external when establishing the premise. Consider the following:
- A high school chemistry teacher with a pregnant wife and disabled teen son learns he has terminal lung cancer. With no notable savings or million-dollar life-insurance policy, his family is set to inherit a load of financial struggles along with their grief when he dies. If he could only find a way to earn some money before then…
- A man who learns he has terminal lung cancer deeply regrets the path not chosen—the one that would’ve led to recognition of his brilliance. He deserves that recognition, and the bank account that goes with it. He wants you to say his name, with awe and respect, because he deserves that, too, and he intends to convince you of that fact.
They feel like two different characters, don’t they? Yet that’s Walter White, the noble external reason he chooses a life of crime and the narcissistic internal motivation for the same. The contrast between selflessness and egocentrism plays on Walter—and on us—for the entire series.
- Find the link that makes sense of everything. Brian Cranston, who played Walter, says that when he first considered the role, he didn’t understand the character. And then it clicked: Walter was depressed, because his deepest desire—to be extraordinary—was never met before his death-sentence diagnosis. His depression brought the chaos, and went a long way in explaining his desperate plan and bad decision-making. Keying in on the character’s emotional core made everything fall into place for the actor, and in turn for us.
- Evolve the character’s mindset. Character-building went beyond the premise and some fuzzy imagined end. It was something the writers considered all of the time—how would Walter behave in a given situation, and how had his mindset evolved?
“We ask(ed) ourselves the same questions over and over again, like a mantra. ‘Where is Walt’s head at right now? Where is he coming from? What is his fear, what was his hope?’ [O]ur best work is when we don’t think about the future too much and we think about the now.” – Vince Gilligan
- When necessary, reverse your engineering. The writers wanted the characters to feel authentic and never puppeteered. Still, story is story. If the writers needed to get a character from point A to Z, they’d engineer in reverse until the gap closed, with a character taking micro-steps or in some other way being logically driven toward the desired choice.
- Let the story evolve organically. No character changes overnight, and while the changes you can make in a character over the course of a five-year television series might not seem comparable to what you can do in the course of a novel, the point remains the same. Slow transformations are usually the most believable, and allow you to truly explore a character’s territory as they become someone other than who they are at the start of a tale.
“Breaking” Connection
Breaking Bad might still be a good story without the strong connection it forged with its audience, but it would never have become such a great one. How did Vince and his team manage to create that bond? How did they make us care about a drug lord capable of psychopathic levels of manipulation and murder?
- Thread the hook with grade-A bait. We might not be able to empathize with a drug lord, but at the beginning of all things, Walter was an ordinary guy. A chemistry teacher just diagnosed with terminal cancer, with a wife and a kid and another kid on the way, who feels guilty for even considering treatment because it will deplete what little money his family will inherit after he’s gone. Oh, guy. I feel you. You feel him, too, right? And that’s the baited hook. Your empathy tethers you to this character, and because you have the feels for him, you’re going to give him some leeway. And you’re probably going to apply your squishy feelings of empathy to the stupid choices he’s going to make—even the big ones.
- Be logical. Vince has spoken about the challenge of keeping an audience connected to Walter, even after he starts to do bad things. To this end, it was important to build on rational choices, and to create a cause-and-effect dynamic along the way that would root back to those first relatable seeds. Because at some point, we’re going to find ourselves down this guy’s rabbit hole, the lines blurred between good and bad, right and wrong, and we need to remember how we got down there. If we do, we can still care about this guy or at least his journey, in part because his rational choices enabled us to imagine ourselves in his situation. We witnessed how, step by horrible step, this sort of thing might happen to anyone. Even to people we know and love. Even to ourselves, if the situation were just so. That is some powerful stuff.
“[T]he way that we keep him human and likable is that we show his great pain and discomfort at having to do (bad things). And when he kills …it’s a horrible, long scene, just to show that this is the way it would really be….[And he] slides to the floor with [his victim] and just mutters ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.” – Vince Gilligan
- Talk to all parts of the brain. I love writers who lace their work with metaphor and symbolism, and Vince is one of those writers. The color of cars and outfits throughout the course of the show may mean something. The fact that an infant is placed on her side for safety reasons after another character dies while lying on her back means something. We may not understand these little acts of symbolism in a conscious way, but creating a world layered with meaning delivers story on multiple levels, which in turn supports storytelling trust. We know we’re in capable hands, and so we’ll return to the story, week after week, or page after page.
“Breaking” Story
- Reject black-and-white options. Vince wasn’t interested in subjecting his characters to easily managed situations with clear answers. Rather, he sought to test his characters with moral dilemmas, adversity, shades-of-gray situations, and full-on chaos, because those moments can reveal the pith of a character. In Walter’s case, it helps to parse out if taking care of his family or receiving recognition is most important—eventually by pitting those things against one another.
- Raise the stakes. Just when you think nothing worse could possibly happen, it does. I remember talking with someone who’d seen the whole series about how dark and twisty the story had become midway through the first season. “Oh, you’re still in phonics,” he said, with an ominous chuckle. I don’t want to offer any spoilers, but suffice it to say, if you want a master’s lesson in evolving tension, watch this show.
- Be unboxed. Vince believed in the fluidity of a story well told, in allowing characters to transform on their schedule over his own, and in staying open to possibilities. He allowed photographs to inspire scenes. He allowed actors to inspire a character’s layers, and even to extend that character’s role in the story. Jesse Pinkman, for example, was supposed to die in the first season. And Hank Schrader was never meant to be terribly important to the plot.
“[A]s the shooting progressed and I got to know Dean Norris (Hank), I realized that this is a very interesting guy with a lot of emotional layers to him. He has so much more substance than I ever pictured Hank having, and so a lot of his substance rubbed off on Hank and changed the way I perceived the character.” – Vince Gilligan
- Persevere. Considering Breaking Bad’s incredible success, you’d think it was in a Hollywood bidding war or something, right? Nope. The show was famously turned down by many before AMC picked it up. Sometimes different is scary to the Establishment. Don’t let that stop you from creating innovative works or pursuing publication.
“If I’d spent too much time thinking about how tough it was going to be to sell, I might have psyched myself out of even trying.” – Vince Gilligan
All right, that’s enough from me. Have you watched a series that taught you something important about storytelling? Have I missed a Breaking Bad lesson? Are you watching Better Call Saul? Project Greenlight?
[coffee]
Therese Walsh (she/her) co-founded Writer Unboxed in 2006 and is the site’s editorial director. She was the editor of WU’s only book, Author in Progress, and runs the Writer Unboxed UnConference.
Her second novel, The Moon Sisters, received starred reviews and was named one of the best books of the year by Library Journal and Book Riot.
Learn more about Therese on her website, and sign up for her newsletter to be among the first to hear about any new projects.
Thanks, Therese. Breaking Bad was one of my favorite shows. What was fascinating about it for me was how Walter White went from being the most sympathetic of protagonists to a monster, and yet it was hard for me not to root for him. He was a brilliantly drawn character. The big lesson for me was that the series showed how a writer can turn a protagonist into an antagonist, while still maintaining viewer empathy. That is a tough trick to pull off. Thans again for this great post.
I admire the same, Chris. What a great, great character arc. The ending was satisfying, too, for me — an interesting blend of goal success and failure. How did you like it?
I thought the ending was an appropriate resolution to his arc and to the story. Some thought it was too neat and that he shouldn’t have been able to settle scores. I thought it was a nice way to tie up the series.
I didn’t think it was overly neat. Lots of damage, all around.
I found the show too violent for my tastes and ended up tuning out. Your suggestion to “Let the story evolve organically” and “evolve the character’s mindset” … I’m all for that. Your post reminds me of what Robert McKee advocates in his screenwriting book “Story.” Story is not about rules or formulas, duplication, or second-guessing what will or won’t sell out there. Allowing for the inspiration, for the characters to grow the story, is McKee’s advice too. Stimulating post, Therese. Thank you!
Brunonia Barry was a part of an intimate group of writers who met with McKee on a regular basis when she lived in California. Can you even imagine?
As for the show being violent, I hear you. I don’t know what it says about me that I didn’t let that stop me from watching it. Interestingly, I haven’t been able to get into Game of Thrones for similar reasons. Hmmm….
I thought the scenes of violence were as carefully crafted as the rest of the writing. Nothing was gratuitous. Each time, the mayhem and bloodshed reminded us of the true nature of drug manufacturing, selling, using – the entire drug culture is only a side show to death and destruction. It was all too easy to get caught up in what and why Walt and Jesse were up to this week without those sinister reminders.
Deb, I agree with you that the writers seemed conscientious of not showing violence for violence’s sake, but rather to evolve the story in some way and show the reality of a drug culture. It was the authenticity of the portrayal that made me uncomfortable, but that also — I think — made me want to continue watching. Thanks for chiming in!
Wow, what a great post!! Honestly, Therese, I stopped watching this series when it went really dark because it was starting to give me nightmares (my husband has since re-watched the entire thing). I’m going to re-think this now. A Netflix mini series that blew me away, especially character-wise, was one called Happy Valley. Set in Yorkshire, with the looming skies and muted colors (all that delicious symbolism you mentioned), the character arcs as well as the story blew me away. Thank you for so much richness this morning..
Thanks for your comment! Now don’t start watching BB again and blame me for a resurgence of those nightmares, haha! I think the dark humor and character building are what what helped me see beyond the violence. And, for me, it never felt like violence for the sake of violence. Still, nightmares are a no-go.
Love the sound of the symbolism-drenched Happy Valley, Susan; thanks for pointing me in the direction of that series.
I haven’t seen this show, Therese, but given the raving everyone does, I clearly need to. I love a character-driven show–or book. House of Cards plays on similar viewer sympathies; it’s dark and twisty, but the characters’ internal struggles make them utterly fascinating.
This is a wonderful, thought-provoking post and a great way to start off my fiction writing this morning. Cheers! <3
There’s another I haven’t seen, Heather: House of Cards, though I’ve heard great things. I have the first two seasons of Mad Men on my DVD shelf, too. Is there a series on your to-watch list? There’s not enough time to juggle everything, right?
I’ve heard a lot of great things about Breaking Bad, but never have been able to work up the courage to watch it. I’m hyper-empathetic and also highly visual. Images of extreme violence tend to get stuck in my mind and I try to spare myself that when I can.
Downton Abbey is a show that has taught me a lot about developing well-rounded characters, even secondary characters. Thomas is someone I want to hate, but every time he pushes me to the brink of thinking there’s nothing redeemable about him, he will show surprising compassion or does something that makes me ache to comfort him. The past year he tried to change his sexuality in a terribly painful way; I ugly cried and cursed him out at the same time.
Outlander is another show with fantastic characterization. Of course, my opinion on the quality of the show may be colored a bit by how much I loved the books, which are prime examples of master storytelling. There is, of course, a lot of violence in this show as well, but I know when it is coming and can look away!
I was annoyed that none of Outlander’s actors received an Emmy nod. And I agree: There’s something to be said for knowing what to expect — though I like the element of surprise quite a lot and experience that less and less.
Thomas is one of the most interesting DA characters. I like that the writers have given him a few redeeming qualities; that prevents him from becoming a caricature.
Thanks for your great comment, Kim.
Kim, it’s nice to meet a fellow empath! Like you I’ve been tempted to watch Breaking Bad. I even got through the first few minutes of it. But alas, it sits in my Netflix queue because I know I’d have those images in my head for weeks. Same with other shows my friends enjoy like The Walking Dead. Nightmares. Forever.
But, every piece of advice Therese shared in this post was a gem. Intertwining the external and internal when establishing the premise stuck with me in particular because her example underscores something: having either one or the other is good storytelling but having both is great storytelling.
As for the empath bit, I don’t know about you, but my critique group says that I’m genius at writing emotion, and I think that must be, in part, due to the fact that I absorb emotion like a sponge absorbs water. Not so great for my nerves, but good for writing, I guess. :-)
Maybe having a teen son who likes to tell zombie stories and tales inspired by H.P. Lovecraft has desensitized me a bit.
Grace, I’m glad that external-internal dance example resonated with you. Having such different drives made Walter deeply complex, and saturated his character with internal conflict. It made him human.
Excellent post. Made me re-think an important part of my WIP. Many thanks.
Oh, then that’s a big win. Thanks, Carol!
Like you, I was drawn into Breaking Bad after the fact, but I started watching it at the worst possible time. Discovering the show coincided with my husband’s own cancer diagnosis and treatment. We joined the battle late and lost. Jimmy and I always enjoyed watching good TV and seeing good movies together. “Good story, well told” was our highest accolade. We knew nothing about this show going in and I remember the look on Jim’s face when Walter received his diagnosis. Our own doctor had not been as pragmatic. So much goes unsaid.
Jim tolerated the treatments well and after watching the following weeks episode he joked “So, do you want to start cooking meth down in the garage? I hear it’s easier than french pastry. All in the timing.” He could laugh even then, but the portent of the show was too much for our fragile emotional state and we returned to predictably comforting network fare.
It would be almost a year before I returned to Breaking Bad on Netflix. Not quite bingeing. Almost. It was like riding an unsaddled horse – all you could do was hang on and see where he was taking you. By this time, I was well into the rough draft of my own first novel. TV had become a welcome relief from adjusting to life alone, but I couldn’t help but feel Jim was there with me loving every bizarre minute of the story telling in BB. I also paid close attention to the dance of devices in plot and character as they played out. There was a writing lesson in every episode.
I cheered out loud when “Baby Blue” started up and I remember thinking “He doesn’t look dead yet. Hang on Walter, help is on the way” even as the swat team stepped around him gingerly. I just didn’t want to turn that last page.
Great story, well told. Something to strive for.
Deb, I’m so very sorry for your loss. Your description of Jim’s sense of humor makes me like him tremendously and regret that I never met him. I can understand the bittersweet layers of feeling you must have experienced going back to that show, without him.
“It was like riding an unsaddled horse – all you could do was hang on and see where he was taking you.”
Said perfectly. Thanks so much for your comment.
Thanks for this post, Therese! It has me, like several others, thinking about going back to Breaking Bad and getting past the dark turn in S1 to enjoy the rest of the series.
My husband and I recently binge-watched FX’s Justified (available on Amazon Prime, I think). Loved, loved, loved the writing on that show! So much so that I wrote a series of blog posts about it. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to create a well-layered and fascinating protagonist/arch-nemesis story. And watching the first show in the series (S1 E1) back-to-back with the last (S6 E13) is a master class in how to make a story promise in the beginning and keep it at the end.
We also binge-watched The Killing a few years ago. That was amazing for the ‘slow burn’ of solving the murder mystery at the core of the story over multiple seasons, which is so different from the way most TV police procedurals are written, with a crime per episode. That was also beautifully atmospheric. (Although being married to a Dane and having relatives in Seattle, where the story took place, we thought the weather was much closer to a Danish winter than a Seattle spring :-).)
Nancy, I’d love for you to share the link to your blog post series on Justified. You can plop that link in a comment within this thread. I’m sure some readers will want to check that out.
Your description of The Killing reminds me a little of Twin Peaks — that long tail of a murder-mystery.
Two more shows for my growing list. Thank you!
As I read Therese’s accolades about Breaking Bad (which I haven’t seen yet), I thought that all her words could be applied to the series Justified. The amazing thing about that series is that those characters are so well drawn you find yourself rooting for Boyd (the bad guy) as much as you do for Raylan (the good guy). This was also true for the True Detective series. Thanks Therese for an interesting post. I think most writers recognise good character building, whether it is in books or films.
Thanks for your comment, Sally. I hope you caught Nancy’s link, lower in the thread, about her blog series on Justified.
For me, the key to Breaking Bad, and the genius storytelling stroke, was Jesse. After a while Walter’s descent would have worn out its welcome, but with Jesse’s fate in the balance, there was another emotional pull to the series, and it made the ending… (well, I won’t say anything about the ending for those who want to watch).
The other lesson is the importance of supporting characters for spice. Breaking Bad would not have been as rich without Mike Ehrmantraut, Gustavo Fring, and of course Saul Goodman.
Jim, I agree with you that Jesse was a great character. Hard to believe Vince nearly killed him off in season one, right? I have to admit that I was a little frustrated with the episodes before the last, when Jesse was (no spoilers) not quite visible in the way I wanted him to be visible, if you know what I mean. That may have been why his arc didn’t resonate for me the way I had hoped it would.
Mike and Gustavo and Saul brought the color, I agree. I’m so glad Vince brought Mike back for Better Call Saul, which is shaping up to be another study in characterizations and arcs.
This was an exceptionally well crafted story that would have failed in lessor hands. BTW, I agree Saul Goodman was an important element because he added an element of comic relief to the otherwise heavy drama.
James, I agree. Are you watching Better Call Saul? I love the way Vince is building Saul into a character whose evolution we can understand, and I look forward to how things continue once the backstory catches up to Saul’s present-day dilemma.
Totally agree, Therese, the show has so much to teach us writers. I was hesitant to watch it, due to the violent nature, but was quickly hooked by the characters. Ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.
I found something similar in Dexter.
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
Thanks for your comment, Dee. What was it about Dexter that got to you? (That’s another I haven’t seen!)
Terrific lessons here, T! Thank you for those.
This is slightly off topic, but I had a Walter White experience, fraught with internal conflict. When Mo and I went on that cruise of the Rhine River (I was reading The Moon Sisters – a great trip in so many ways), we met up with two sisters about our age. I actually sat next to one of them on the plane from London to Switzerland. We struck up a conversation because she noticed that my copy of TMS was an ARC, and she asked me all about the book and how I got it. I presume she’s read it by now – she was fascinated by the sisters angle. In fact, she and her sister were meeting on the cruise to take their mother for her 75th birthday to her native Germany. The sisters live on opposite coasts, and had been estranged for years until a few months prior to the trip. It was an interesting dynamic to observe on the trip. Then there was the mom, seeing Germany for the first time since 1945! I’m glad we met them.
Anyway, since cruise passenger demographics tend to skew toward, shall we say, those enjoying their golden years, those of us lagging just a bit behind the curve tended to flock together… You know, after everyone else had gone to bed… At ten o’clock. A few days into the trip, it came to light that both sisters had decided I was the splitting image of Walter White. We shared a laugh over it. But in the days to follow, they started asking me to take pictures, with them or alone… In character. I played along, and did my best to paint on a nihilistic sneer, then laughed as they reported the number of likes they were getting on Instagram with hashtags like: #BreakingBadAboard and #WalterWhiteLives. But inside I was sort of conflicted. Did I really want to be reminding people of this character? In another layer of conflict, they made me feel seriously out of it for never having seen the show.
Speaking of which, for as much as I’ve heard the raves about the writing, I find myself wondering why I’ve persistently resisted starting it. A friend even gave me the whole series on DVD, to watch at my leisure, with assurances I absolutely would not be disappointed. He was earnestly trying to help me as a writer. That was six months ago. Whenever I’m this stubborn about something, and the reasons aren’t evident, I’ve found there’s probably a veiled reason. There’s likely be some level of fear at work here. Perhaps not for the series itself, but for what I’m supposed to take away from it…? Maybe I’m just plain stubborn. Not sure. Guess I’ve got something new to ponder on my bench on the dune on today’s walk with Gidge.
Thanks again for the lessons! There’s so much here to apply to the rewrite.
That story about being outed for your resemblance to Walter White is rich, V.
You know, anytime someone is trying to force feed you something ‘for your own good,’ I think it’s natural to put up some barriers. There are dozens of shows out there that can provide writerly lessons — many in comments here today — so if you’re not feeling BB, you have options.
But I’d love to see those pictures, haha.
I had no interest in a show about meth and people cooking meth, until my kids convinced me to open my mind and at least watch the pilot. I was hooked. I remember a certain scene where I realized I was rooting for Hank against the “bad guy”. That’s powerful stuff when a story can get you so into a character’s head that the character’s perception of right and wrong can skewer your own in your empathy for him. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the layers of that show and what it taught me about story.
I like what Gillian said about thinking outside the box and allowing characters to develop. I find that my worst writer’s block comes when I adhere to the plan I’ve created too rigidly. When I take a breath and an objective step back I always find that by loosening my grip on what I want and just letting the characters take the reins amazing things happen. I have learned that nothing in a story plan has to be set in stone, and a better pattern emerges when I trust my subconscious.
As for writing for the status quo, I’ve never been part of the status quo, so I’ve never been able to write for any other reason than the need to write what I need to write. I think Gillian would agree with what Philip K. Dick said about that…
“I want to write about people I love, and put them into a fictional world spun out of my own mind, not the world we actually have, because the world we actually have does not meet my standards. Okay, so I should revise my standards; I’m out of step. I should yield to reality. I have never yielded to reality. That’s what SF is all about. If you wish to yield to reality, go read Philip Roth; read the New York literary establishment mainstream bestselling writers….This is why I love SF. I love to read it; I love to write it. The SF writer sees not just possibilities but wild possibilities. It’s not just ‘What if’ – it’s ‘My God; what if’ – in frenzy and hysteria. The Martians are always coming.”
Here’s to the courage to follow our muse down the paths less taken.
Thanks for this post, Therese. What a wonderful gift at the start of a writing outside of the box morning.
Sorry that should read I was rooting For Walter against Hank the “bad guy”. I also misspelled Gilligan ‘s name. That’s what I get for using the voice app on my phone without proofing after. Besides it was early. :( and I neededcoffee.
“The Martians are always coming.” Love that.
Bernadette, I had the same resistance and was hooked after watching the pilot. (Have you seen LOST? There’s another pilot that will hook you for the duration of the series.)
Hank was a richly layered character, and his blinders for family (Walter and Marie, for that matter) were telling. Really, I could write a series of posts about BB and dedicate an entire essay to Hank.
You said, “I find that my worst writer’s block comes when I adhere to the plan I’ve created too rigidly… I have learned that nothing in a story plan has to be set in stone, and a better pattern emerges when I trust my subconscious.”
I’m similarly wired. Writer’s Block for me almost always means I’ve made a mistake somewhere along the line. If only finding that mistake were easier.
Here’s to courage!
My husband is a retired chemistry and physics teacher. He watched BB once while he was still teaching, and again just this year (he used to fall asleep when he was teaching, and many of the plot points hit him as new).
I watched parts of it, admired the acting and the writing, but resisted getting sucked in – but found myself able to sit down the second time and be fairly up on the plot, so it must have penetrated. Really too gory for me…
But I found myself giving Walter the benefit of the doubt a lot.
The same way, since he sincerely seemed to be trying to control his ‘dark passenger,’ I agree with Denise – and absolutely loved Dexter.
There is something about watching a character struggle with his demons, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, but at least TRYING, that is compelling because it is what I do all the time, and I assume most humans do.
The ability to maintain that tension all the time without having the syndrome I call ‘Have a talk’ – which is when the motivations seem so contrived that if I have to believe one more colossal coincidental misunderstanding, I’ll never watch the show again. If the characters would stop being DELIBERATELY obtuse, they could sit down for ten minutes, talk it out, and stop tripping over molehills.
Subtlety. Have enough respect for my intelligence to be subtle. Have the plot twist carefully set up – but NOT obvious. foreshadow oh so carefully. Don’t pull things out of a hat. We have a name from the Greeks for that: Deus ex machina.
And, if we like a character – such as the whiny Scarlett in GWTW, because she is bad, but better than those around her – we will stick with them through hell and high water (lit.). Even when they make horrible choices.
Thanks for your comment, Alicia!
“I found myself giving Walter the benefit of the doubt a lot.”
Vince did such a good job cementing our emotional connection to Before-Walt that we continued to have reasonable doubt about his motivations, even when he was firmly in the shoes of After-Walt. Masterful stuff, that.
Did you see the last Gus scene? Talk about a careful setup.
Love this idea of a “dark passenger.” Like I said above, I haven’t seen Dexter, but the two of you are making me wish that I had.
Last Gus scene was awesome!
I have unfortunately ruined TV and movies a bit by writing – but learn lots of techniques.
And I look back and ask myself: how do I want a reader to feel here? For example, I still remember how I felt when I got to the end of Gone With the Wind: Noooooo! There has to be more! She will get him back!
And used it at the end of my first novel, which I just published. Learn from the masters and mistresses out there.
Maybe you could start Dexter by letting Jeffrey Lindsay read it to you – the audiobook is awesome, read by author.
Alicia, that was quite the satisfying surprise, wasn’t it?
I know what you mean about ruining TV and movies for yourself. Makes it all the more exciting when we find a new trick we didn’t yet know to add to our storytelling arsenal.
Congratulations on the publication of your first novel!
We were (are? yes, are) OBSESSED with Breaking Bad. Incredible writing and character development and tension and everything you said. I’ve been an evangelist for the show to anyone who would listen, especially writers. We watched Better Call Saul’s first season and were MARVELING at how slowly Vince can tell a story and still have us riveted. So there’s much to learn there as well.
With BB, I was so impressed with how Vince Gilligan never pandered, never assumed his audience was too dumb or distracted to get the subtle things. He let us struggle and put the pieces together ourselves, sometimes on the second or third time through the series. The colors, the symbols, the repeated lines, the cold opens that left you scratching your head for a entire season sometimes before they made sense. He brought back some storytelling techniques that I hadn’t seen in YEARS.
Too often I think we do readers a disservice by assuming we need to spell things out for them. But confusion isn’t a turn-off or a sin or a problem, I don’t think. The books and movies and shows I have loved the most have always been those that throw me off balance, where I’m not quite sure exactly what’s going on or what’s real. My husband and I were just talking about how on the third viewing of American Psycho, we still weren’t completely sure what had really happened and what was in Patrick Bateman’s mind. And we love that we don’t know! And one of our favorite movies is Gosford Park, where much dialogue happens off screen and you only get another character’s reaction to it or else you’re just getting a scene of other people doing something else entirely unrelated to the dialogue you’re hearing, AND you don’t realize until the very end that the characters most affected by the action have been off stage most of the time!
I have noticed as I reread and revise manuscripts, more and more as the process goes on, I am simply removing things that “explain” what’s going on or what a character thinks of it. Then I try to show what they think by what they do next or say next.
Altogether, I don’t think you could have a greater teacher of the art of storytelling than Vince Gilligan and his amazing cast of actors.
Erin, you are my people! And you’ve just given me the perfect opening to include one of the many great Vince G quotes littering my cutting-room floor.
Loved those cold openings. And that pink teddy bear. (I just found a wiki page dedicated to that bear, so funny: https://breakingbad.wikia.com/wiki/Pink_Teddy_Bear )
“Too often I think we do readers a disservice by assuming we need to spell things out for them.” Amen. Amen.
Thanks for your great comment.
“Tripping over molehills”–that’s the perfect way to put that. That annoys me too in stories.
I loved this post, Therese. In fact, I sent it to an actor I know who is preparing a scene this week. Really good advice for artists of all kinds!
Oh, very cool about your actor-friend. Good luck to him or her — or, rather, ‘break a leg.’
Regarding the series of blog posts I did on Justified, discussed up-thread, you can read it over on Eight Ladies Writing, where I am every Monday.
The first Justified post was on Oct 7; you can find it here:https://eightladieswriting.com/2015/09/07/nancy-justified-and-why-that-prologue-you-love-probably-isnt/ .
Therese, I hope you get a chance to see the show and love it as much as I did!
Thank you, Nancy! I’ll definitely check it out, and I look forward to reading your series analysis.
Therese, nodding my head to so many other nods on BB’s pulsing, jagged story arc, the wild surges of tension leavened by humor, the whites (!), greys and blacks of Walter White, the tasty side-dish subplots, the meshing of the secondary characters, the superb acting.
Another factor that pulled me way in was the cinematography—the blasting light of desert skies, the close-ups of something as simple—yet menacing—as a car’s exhaust pipe, the sometimes manic, sometimes languid editing: zowie!
I don’t have as big of a mobile home to build Walt’s meth lab, but the small one I’m assembling in my Airstream should do for me and my cat’s needs. Thanks for a strong, discerning post, T!
Oh, yes, so much to admire visually despite the death and destruction. And how about that fly?
You’re not moving to NM with that Airstream, are you, Tom?
Since I think I fall into the empathic crowd here (trauma/torture is the worst), I very much appreciate being able to read about BB here, thanks!
I found Broadchurch fascinating and emotionally intense–though less physically violent. While it’s ostensibly a murder mystery, it’s far more about how a small, tightly-knit community deals with the loss and betrayal it experiences. Really, the community ends up being a major character, though I enjoyed watching all the different character threads within that community. As the story proceeds, you see all the ways that people choose to believe one version of the truth versus another, each for their own reasons.
Looking back, I think sometimes the viewers get more clues to the mystery, but most of the time it didn’t feel like I was being hit over the head with information. It’s really a case of what’s shown to the viewers versus what’s said; the camera plays the role of a narrator. Broadchurch does a lovely job of creating mood, and often tells the story without dialogue, using just the visuals for emotional impact. There’s something very austere and uncozy about the town and the people within it, even when the place seems so beautiful.
(For the record, I did watch the US version, Gracepoint. Not bad–decent acting–but I suspect Chris Chibnall and the production team felt they needed to explain more for a US audience, and so it falls more into the “pandering” category. Stick with the BBC original, I say.)
Broadchurch reminds me a bit of Twin Peaks from your description, Alisha — in terms of community-as-character. I’ll look for it. Love just about everything produced by the BBC. Thanks for stopping by and for your comment!
So funny. As I was finishing my comment, I was thinking about Twin Peaks for just that reason. That was a neat show! Yes, I agree: Twin Peaks without the paranormal angle, though.
Great post, BTW! There’s lots here to chew on and digest as I keep working.
Never saw this series.
Brilliant show and brilliant “breakdown” of the character development, Therese. I remember a friend telling me to watch it and giving the same log line—a high school chemistry teacher becomes a meth dealer. I was like, “Uh, I don’t think so.” So I got in the game a bit late, but it was so unbelievably addictive. Jessie’s character evolved tremendously too, but in the opposite direction of Walter White.
Shortly after the series, we got a puppy and I wanted to name him Walt. We settle on Tobi, but turns out Walt would have been more appropriate. :-)
Thanks for the comment, Densie! Yeah, it really isn’t that appealing on the surface of things, is it? So glad I gave it a try.
Tobi sounds like a character.
Great stuff, Therese! I agree, there are MANY lessons to be learned from this show, which is incredibly well written and acted. Ultimately the show got too dark for me, and I bailed after a couple of seasons, but I cannot deny what an incredibly compelling story and premise Gilligan created.
Other shows that have inspired me as a writer are West Wing, Friday Night Lights, the Sopranos, and pretty much anything Joss Whedon or Aaron Sorkin ever did. I think it’s highly valuable to study great TV shows, because you’re allowed to see the collective work of a group of writers, directors and actors all evolving week after week. I also deeply study the authors I admire, but I have to wait months or years between each book, so binge-watching a well written show is a great crash course in compelling storytelling.
And though I might have left the tv series behind, the character of Walter White has left an indelible on me, as evidenced by my Halloween costume from a couple of years ago:
https://i1143.photobucket.com/albums/n634/keithwriter/breaking_bad_keith_hd_zpspj5pzamm.jpg
Ha! Love that Halloween costume, Keith! So awesome!
I have heard nothing but praise about Friday Night Lights — yet another show I haven’t seen. (What am I doing with my time, anyway?) You probably remember I was a huge fan of LOST. I’m also giddy with anticipation over David Lynch’s revival of Twin Peaks; that series finale was beyond unsatisfying. Can’t wait to see what Lynch has in store this go-round. I’d put money down that it involves some damn fine coffee and cherry pie.
Hi, Therese. Yeah, seriously, Friday Night Lights is a must-see. My Norwegian-Turkish wife has absolutely no comprehension of American football and she loved the show. Because it’s about kids and parents and community. I caught an episode just channel surfing the other day and had to stop and watch the whole thing.
Thanks, David! It is at the top of my list, right beside Mad Men.
T,
About a third of the way into your article I slid my little arrow to the bookmark star and turned it gold. Fantastic job! From the pic (LOVED!) to Walter throwing the pizza — and all the great content therein — it touched a nerve. Or maybe it was today’s acupuncture, but regardless, something CLICKED.
The show made me its bitch the first couple of seasons but I got out of it for some reason…don’t know why…something must have intervened. It truly was addicting, though, and I was losing weight just watching it. All your hints — oh! Wow. Needed to hear them and see them laid out exactly as you did and with an example to which I could relate.
I look for many of those storytelling components in television shows…sort of always have. I’m so terrible sometimes, and speak to the tv (and anyone in listening range): “Okay, the character they introduce at the beginning and won’t do anything with for awhile is going to be the murderer. They’ll get back to him a little later, suspect him, have a red herring thrown in, arrest someone else, get in over their heads, yadayadayada….” You get the drift. I’m a walking spoiler alert.
I’ve not watched Project Greenlight, but it’s caught my eye. I think I got a little miffed at Matt and subconsciously boycotted it. Perhaps I should watch it after all. :D
Thanks again for the wisdom.
The gold star? Nice! Thanks, Mike!
Can you imagine watching an entire series with a roomful of writers? I wonder how many versions of story we’d spin? That would be interesting…
I missed the early drama with Matt and Effie over Project Greenlight, but I enjoyed the last five or so episodes. (It caught my attention because of my kiddo’s interest in movie-making.)
You have me so curious about the acupuncture now. I hope it went well.
Hi, Therese:
Sorry to come in a day late. Yesterday got away from me.
Great post, with great lessons. I once wrote an article on antiheroes and argued that the difference between an antihero (like WW) and a flawed hero is that the latter usually through insight recognizes his flaw. The antihero is more a divided soul — the raging egoist and the cancer victim, angel on one shoulder, devil the other, with the reader/viewer never sure in any scene which side of the personality will emerge. I think Walt’s capacity for humanity remained throughout the series — in his devotion to Jesse, for example, the “adopted son.”
BTW: if you haven’t watched the Honest Trailers tribute to Breaking Bad, you should. It’s hilarious: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDqGAUvWKkU
Love that comparison, David, and I can definitely see Walter fitting this mold.
Thanks for the link! Off to watch…
Loved this post, Therese.Thank you.
Like you, I binge watched Breaking Bad. I think that’s a great way to see the character arcs, and discover the brilliance of the writing. After I finished binge watching, I watched the whole thing again, trying to figure out the subtle changes in character, and the objective correlatives that related. There were so many, I eventually gave up and just watched it again.
The show I’m obsessed with binge watching now is Bloodline. I feel as if we go down that same rabbit hole, and the writer plays with time in such a way that we’re, at first, very uncomfortable in that dark place, but eventually understand every choice that made us fall. Unusual, I think, when you can empathize with each character.
Bloodline sounds chilling, in a cool way. Love time play, too. Did you watch LOST? I know the time play got to be a bit much for some, but I always appreciated the nod to theme and thought the writing was some of the best I’d ever seen.
Sorry for the late comment, but loved this article and BB; such a great cast of compelling characters, each forging their own twisted path on a foundation of well-developed audience empathy and interest
This is a great idea ! I loved that movie. My friends say that the things made there are not real. Thanks for sharing this information.
I see that a lot of guys use Heisenberg as a nickname or his face as an avatar. This film is epic. I loved it, and your idea is awsome. Great job dear !