VIDEO SERIES – MAD MEN Moments

VIDEO SERIES – MAD MEN Moments

nullWith the long-awaited premiere to Season Five imminent, Mad Men is on many a person's mind. For the next thirteen weeks, some may revel in a neverland of glamorous mid-60s living fraught with social strife; others may wonder what jaw-dropping, life-changing events await their favorite characters. But for us here at Press Play, it's about the moments. Moments that have us instantly rewinding our DVRs as soon as an episode is over, or poring over blog recaps all Monday long while real work lies unattended. Mad Men has yielded four seasons stuffed with such moments. We decided to produce a series of videos dedicated to spotlighting some of the best.

This was no easy task and involved a fair amount of deliberation in selecting four iconic moments to produce the video essays that are our specialty here at Press Play. We decided to pick just one moment from each of the previous four seasons that lent itself best to video essay treatment. What surprised us was how each selected moment organically led to distinctly different approaches in our analysis. Watch each video and see what we mean. If anything they will have you salivating for more from Matt Weiner, Jon Hamm & company.

Press Play is especially fortunate to have as co-producer of the series Deborah Lipp of the popular Mad Men blog Basket of Kisses. Deborah co-runs the blog with her sister Roberta Lipp (who lent her estimable voice talents to three of these videos) and was an invaluable presence in bringing this series to fruition. Not only are we proud to co-present these videos with Basket of Kisses, we are doubly excited to announce that Deborah will serve as Press Play's very own Mad Men specialist, writing episode recaps throughout the season. Look for her first recap this Sunday IMMEDIATELY following the end of the two-hour season premiere, which starts at 9PM on AMC. For the next thirteen weeks, Press Play will be an essential destination for replaying another season's worth of Mad moments.

Index of "Mad Men Moments" Video Essays:

It's a Mad World: A video essay by Serena Bramble, essay by David Ehrenstein

Season One: The Carousel by Tommaso Tocci and Kevin B. Lee

Season Two: The Sad Clown Dress by Deborah Lipp, Roberta Lipp and Kevin B. Lee

Season Three: The Lawnmower by Amanda Marcotte, Roberta Lipp and Kevin B. Lee

Season Four: The Fight by Serena Bramble, Deborah Lipp, Roberta Lipp and Kevin B. Lee

Top Five Mad Men Moments, selected by the Mad Men blog Basket of Kisses

Deborah Lipp is the co-owner of Basket of Kisses, whose motto is "smart discussion about smart television." She is the author of six books, including "The Ultimate James Bond Fan Book."

Kevin B. Lee is Editor in Chief of IndieWire’s PressPlay Video Blog and contributor to Roger Ebert.com. Follow him on Twitter.

VIDEO ESSAY: It’s a MAD World – a MAD MEN Video Tribute

VIDEO ESSAY: It’s a MAD World – a MAD MEN Video Tribute

Part of the Mad Men Moments Video Essay Series

Serena Bramble, who has already created several dazzling montage tributes to film noir, Powell and Pressburger, and Steven Spielberg, among others, unveils her latest work, weaving dozens upon dozens of clips into a jazz-like succession of motifs, mapping out the resplendent world of Mad Men

Bramble's video includes an excerpt of Don Draper reading Frank O'Hara's poem "Mayakovsky" from the premiere episode of Season Two. Writer David Ehrenstein takes that scene as the starting point for the following meditation on the poem, its author the poet Frank O'Hara, and their significance to the series:

Don Draper reading Frank O’Hara’s poem "Mayakovsky" was one of the most startling yet oddly right cultural cross-references in all of Mad Men. Don is of course extremely intelligent and very much aware of the arts — but hardly what anyone would call an intellectual. His romantic exploits have brought him in passing contact with late 50’s /early 60’s New York bohemia (jazz clubs, loft parties) but he’s never evidenced a desire to be part of them. His chance encounter with an O’Hara poem is part and parcel of his magpie-like instinct to gather up information for possible future use. Had Don actually run into Frank O’Hara it’s doubtful he’d have anything to say to him. O’Hara, of course, would have been sure to put the make on a Total Babe like John Hamm.

Frank O’Hara (1926-1966) lived a life that in some ways mirrors that of the Mad Men characters. He went to Harvard (Edward Gorey was his roommate) studied music, but became profoundly interested in poetry — especially avant-garde French and Russian poets Stephane Mallarme, Arthur Rimbaud, Pierre Reverdy, Boris Pasternak and Vladimir Mayakovsky. He got a job working in the card shop at the Museum of Modern Art and in a very short space of time worked his way up to being one of the Museum’s most important curators. This Peggy-like rise was aided by the fact that he became personal friends with the Abstract Expressionists the Museum was collecting. His essays reveal him to be one of their most vocal and direct champions. It wasn’t lofty and “theoretical” with O’Hara at all. A prodigious imbiber, the fact that he could drink any abstract expressionist in the house under the table was why this very openly gay man with — in his words — “the voice of as sissy truck driver” doubtless impressed this decidedly straight and very macho crew. Here’s the greatest love poem ever written (IMO).

O’Hara wrote constantly. His powers of inspiration never waned. The poem he reads above is about Vincent Warren — a dancer in the chorus of the New York City Ballet. O’Hara had been invited by John Ashbery to accompany him on a State Department sponsored Cultural Tour of Europe (hence the cities listed in the poem). The minute he said “Yes” to the trip was the same minute he discovered that he was in love with Vincent Warren. O’Hara’s open celebration of joy in his sexual and romantic self is something Mad Men’s Sal couldn’t possibly bring himself to so much as dream of. 

Frank O’Hara died in 1966 as a result of injursies sustained when he was hit by a slow-moving dune buggy on Fire Island coming back in the wee smalls from a party. He was in mid-conversation with Babe du Jour J.J. Mitchell, when J.J. suddenly realized Frank had stopped talking. He looked back and there Frank was on the sand. He was flown back by helicopter to New York where he died in hospital while trying to comfort his distraught friends. His last words were to Willem de Kooning. “Oh Bill, you’ve come by. How nice.”

It would be nice if Mad Men makes mention of it when the time comes in the story arc.

Serena Bramble is a film editor currently pursuing a Bachelor's degree in Teledramatic Arts and Technology from Cal State Monterey Bay. In addition to editing, she also writes on her blog Brief Encounters of the Cinematic Kind.

David Ehrenstein is a film critic and writer whose books include Open Secret: Gay Hollywood 1928-2000 and The Scorsese Picture: The Art and Life of Martin Scorsese. He lives in Los Angeles.

VIDEO ESSAY – MAD MEN Moments: The Carousel

VIDEO ESSAY – MAD MEN Moments: The Carousel

Part of the Mad Men Moments Video Essay Series

Click here to watch this video on your mobile device.

This video is inspired by the famous "Carousel" presentation in the finale of season one of Mad Men. In this scene, Don Draper uses idyllic images of his family to sell Kodak's new slide projector as a "time machine" taking us from one perfect moment of our life to the next.  This video re-imagines the scene as a time machine journey through the life of Don Draper, with moments that are anything but picture-perfect. It asks the question that has run through the entire series: "Who Is Don Draper?" and explores the gaping chasm between the man he has been and the man he wishes to be.

The original sequence is embedded below, and is further explored by Tommaso Tocci in the following essay.

The 'carousel scene' was one of the moments that helped define the first season of Mad Men. The series had made a strong first impression on its 2007 debut and had consistently built on that over the course of the twelve episodes before 'The Wheel'. Many of the seasonal arcs had already reached their conclusion in the penultimate episode, 'Nixon vs. Kennedy', leaving this one as a sort of offbeat climax covering emotional grounds.

nullThe season finale finds creative director Don Draper in charge of a pitch to Kodak executives for the marketing of their new projector. The client request is to work the technology angle, emphasizing the automated capabilities of the device.

Except that Don Draper doesn't really trust technology, or even the future. Earlier in the season (ep. 1.2), he dismissed a space-themed campaign because 'some people think of the future and it upsets them'. As much as he doesn’t like thinking of himself – and his agency – as 'traditional' (ep. 1.6), he always goes searching for his ideas in the past, because that’s where the emotions he’s drawn to really are.

'Technology is a glittering lure, but there’s the rare occasion when the public can be engaged on a level beyond flash, if they have a sentimental bond with the product'.

When we met him in the pilot, we took his boyish smile at face value. We could believe his free-spirited nature, his philosophy that what we call love was invented by guys like him – to sell nylons. He lives like there’s no tomorrow because there isn’t one. It’s only at the end of the episode that we learn how heavily Don had invested on an idealized, prefabricated version of tomorrow (and love). We discover that there's very little we can take at face value in this show. After thirteen episodes spent trying to stabilize this fracture, it's clear that something has gone wrong in the process. By the time he gets to work on the Kodak pitch, Mr. Draper is no longer a happy customer.

The carefully crafted ‘love-doesn’t-exist’ fiction is consistent with the way he approached his first challenge of the series: the creation of a new slogan for Lucky Strike. Claiming that advertising is only based on 'happiness' ('a billboard screaming with reassurance that whatever you’re doing, it’s okay. You are okay' – it’s worth noting that Jon Hamm was instructed to say the line as if he was telling that to himself), in a fit of genius he abandons any thoughts of complexity and just focuses on immediate pleasure: 'It’s toasted'. Don’s discomfort throughout the episode is mirrored by the setting of the scene when he walks into the meeting. He sits alongside Roger in a fully lit, unforgiving room, desperately scrambling for inspiration. He’s just scratching the surface of himself, like a patient on the first session with his therapist.

null

Thirteen episodes later, with an extremely messier but more acute self-awareness, he owns the Kodak pitch. He's the man behind the curtain, now. He's getting closer to the darkness that's being eating at him while simultaneously distancing himself from it by literally projecting it on the wall. Look how he disappears in the dark background of the room, firmly in charge of the narrative. Confident, composed, assured while he exposes himself. He is a man with a plan, and his plan is so effective because it feeds off everything that’s happened to him in 13 episodes.

Over the course of the season, we’ve seen flashbacks of a forgotten childhood emerge through the cracks of a crumbling conscience. As in a twisted psychoanalytical process, Don refuses to acknowledge his past on a conscious level, but he allows it to re-surface in his work. Indeed, it’s the only place he ever goes to – his secret emotional goldmine.

'A deeper bond with the product. Nostalgia. It's delicate, but potent'.

The story he tells about his first job, 'in-house at a fur company' with 'this old pro copywriter' Teddy, is a convenient half-truth (we’ll find out only in episode 4.6), just like the Greek etymology of 'nostalgia' that he uses as a gateway for his carousel allegory: 'nostalgia' is not 'the pain from an old wound'; it’s actually the pain caused by the desire to return home. But for Don Draper, the thought of returning home IS an old wound, and a very painful one.

As the plastic of the projector rotates, echoing each of Don’s increasingly assertive statements, we go back and forth between full-frame family pictures and Don’s face. It’s almost shot-reverse-shot. Note how the pictures are kept in motion and in contact with the scene by the cigarette smoke blowing in front of the projector ('Smoke gets in your eyes') and how Don’s dark, austere frame is dynamically countered by the abstract painting in the background.

nullThe first slide with Don and Betty – playfully biting the same hot dog – is a recreation of an actual photo of series-creator Matthew Weiner’s parents on their first date. Beyond the autobiographical detail, this also reinforces the notion of Mad Men as a ‘time machine’ for the people who are now 40-to-50 years old. A way for that generation to come to terms with their parents’ time. This is interesting because every major character can be examined through the lens of its child issues (Don, Betty, who’s always been a child, Peggy, who must fight to no longer be considered one). Mad Men is full of irresolvable controversies and contradictions – simultaneously stigmatizing and fetishizing the customs of the 60s, hating and loving its anti-hero protagonist, believing in his emotions or regarding his whole identity as a ploy, and ultimately being in itself a meta-meta play on the ambivalence of advertising. It's epic turned parody turned irony turned postmodern epic. A rational centrifuge of polar opposites spinning faster and faster until you need a different set of eyes to make sense of it. Reconciling such opposites is the way in which we make peace with our parents, with their world. It’s how we put them to rest. It’s probably the only point of view from which Mad Men can be experienced as a whole – rather than as an eternal duality.

That’s why the carousel scene has made such an impression – it encapsulates not only the themes and storylines of every character in the first season, but also the different layers that the series has taught us to look out for. People ‘buy’ the scene for its straightforward, raw emotional power, or they choose to see it as the ultimate manipulation. It can be a psychoanalytic struggle or an historical rollercoaster. It can be earnest or cynical, cathartic or parodic.

The 'place where we ache to go again' also complements another etymological quirk that appears earlier in the season (1.6), when Rachel explains to Don that ‘Utopia’ means both ‘the good place’ and ‘the place that cannot be’. Another double definition perfectly fitting Don’s search for his past AND the time of Mad Men in its entirety. A magical Babylon. Has it ever really existed? Or did we collectively imagine it? Is it just some good memories of a child mixed with the rational judgment of a man? 'It was good, but it cannot be' would make a great caption for the show’s attitude towards the values and customs it depicts.

Tommaso Tocci is a freelance writer and translator currently based in Italy. Follow him on Twitter.

Kevin B. Lee is Editor in Chief of IndieWire’s PressPlay Video Blog and contributor to Roger Ebert.com. Follow him on Twitter.

VIDEO ESSAY – MAD MEN Moments: The Sad Clown Dress

VIDEO ESSAY – MAD MEN Moments: The Sad Clown Dress

Part of the Mad Men Moments Video Essay Series

Click here to watch this on your mobile device.

In selecting an iconic moment for Season Two of Mad Men, we wanted to shift the focus away from the storied office shenanigans of Sterling Cooper and spend time unpacking the domestic storyline that, while less sexy, imbues the world of Mad Men with added dimension and depth. By focusing on the idyllic domestic world of Betty Draper and how it all falls apart within a 24-hour span, this video serves as a complement to the Season One video portrait of Don Draper in "The Carousel." 

The script for this video essay is written by Deborah Lipp, narrated by Roberta Lipp, and edited by Kevin B. Lee.

TRANSCRIPT

Mad Men's Betty Draper is a master of surfaces.

A former model who is happiest when praised for her beauty.

She lives the life expected of her, but the suburbs bore her and she has no real interest in motherhood.

Her husband is a mystery…and a philanderer.

In episode 2.08, A Night to Remember, it all comes apart.

Betty intends to prove herself the perfect hostess and wife, throwing the perfect party.

She then discovers she's a pawn.

She spirals into a rage. Don has broken the pact to maintain a perfect surface. Now there is nothing for Betty to hide, and so much to expose. 

Betty spends the night with her daughter instead of Don, as if to seek solace in a childlike state.

Over the course of the next day , her flawless party look–which costume designer Janie Bryant calls her “Sad Clown Dress”– falls to ruin.

She no longer bothers putting on a show of perfection. It no longer exists.

And she won’t move beyond this moment, until she finds the proof she seeks: that this man, and the idyllic life they’ve created are built on a lie.

But she’s unable to expose Don. She can only hurt herself.

And yet, she knows what she knows. She can no longer trust appearances, since that’s all her husband has to offer. Don stays in the shadows, denying everything.

Betty’s hair is held back in a band so that we see the full effect of emotion on her face.

The surface of perfection is gone. She’s exposed and looks broken. But underneath is a new found conviction about herself.

Finally, she faces Don without makeup, without a hairdo, without even a color. The white robe accentuates the starkness of this moment.

Now it is Don who’s afraid of losing everything. And it’s his expression of fear that brings her back.

The next day, the house is filled with warm, renewing light. Betty is back to being an immaculate housewife, as if nothing happened.

But a TV commercial brings it all back.

It has all crumbled. Her perfect home, her handsome husband, they are empty surfaces that have all been sold to her.

Betty is no longer buying.

Deborah Lipp is the co-owner of Basket of Kisses, whose motto is "smart discussion about smart television." She is the author of six books, including "The Ultimate James Bond Fan Book."

Roberta Lipp is the co-owner of Basket of Kisses and is or has been a voiceover artist, improvisor, actor, singer/songwriter, blogger and Mad Men aficionado. She plans to produce a one-woman show.

Kevin B. Lee is Editor in Chief of IndieWire’s PressPlay Video Blog and contributor to Roger Ebert.com. Follow him on Twitter.

VIDEO ESSAY – MAD MEN Moments: The Lawnmower

VIDEO ESSAY – MAD MEN Moments: The Lawnmower

Part of the Mad Men Moments Video Essay Series

Click here to watch this on your mobile device.

Our iconic moment of Mad Men season three easily ranks as one of the most shocking of the entire series to date. To explore it in depth, we adapted one of the best pieces we could find about the episode, written by Amanda Marcotte of Pandagon. This video is narrated by Roberta Lipp of Basket of Kisses and edited by Kevin B. Lee.
 

Amanda Marcotte is a Brooklyn writer who likes indie rock, quality television, and political blogging. She blogs at Pandagon. Follow her to Twitter

Kevin B. Lee is Editor in Chief of IndieWire’s PressPlay Video Blog and contributor to Roger Ebert.com. Follow him on Twitter.

VIDEO ESSAY – MAD MEN Moments: The Fight

VIDEO ESSAY – MAD MEN Moments: The Fight

Part of the Mad Men Moments Video Essay Series

Click here to watch this video on your mobile device.

There is near unanimous consensus that 4.07: "The Suitcase" is the standout episode of Season Four of Mad Men, so we knew that our video essay on a singular moment from that season had to come from that episode. But there are so many great moments in "The Suitcase:" Peggy's telephone breakup with her boyfriend (and her family), the scenes between Don and Peggy in the diner and the bar (where they express their mutual attraction as far as they allow themselves to); the confrontation with Duck Phillips back in the office; the early morning phone call; and of course the hand-holding. But for this video, we decided on the fight that erupts between Don and Peggy after she decides to devote her evening in the office with him on the Samsonite ad campaign. There is just so much to unpack in this swift, three minute scene, four seasons' worth of narrative and character subtext that has built up and finally explodes between them. What's also remarkable is how much of this is conveyed through subtle but effective choices in staging and direction, as we hope this video illustrates.

The script for this video essay is written by Serena Bramble, Deborah Lipp and Kevin B. Lee, based on "a kernel" of an idea by Serena Bramble. The video is edited by Kevin B. Lee and narrated by Roberta Lipp and Kevin B. Lee.

TRANSCRIPT

Don has received an ominous phone message about his dying friend Anna.

Telephone at his side, he is trying to bring himself to call.

Don is staged front and center, conveying a sense of isolation and confrontation with himself.

The framing of this wide shot emphasizes the distance between Don and Peggy.

The rest of scene goes back and forth between these two shots of Don seated on the couch and Peggy standing as if above him.

The staging highlights Peggy's newfound aggressiveness towards Don in this scene. She is emboldened by her breakup. He is weakened by Anna's imminent death.

The following dialogue plays like an exchange of blows that resonates with the episode's boxing subplot. It even lasts about the 3 minute length of a boxing round.

Don's response doesn't invite further conversation or empathy. It is action-based, in line with his past advice to Peggy.

Don’s smile betrays relief that he won’t be alone. He can put aside the call. But he conceals this by acting as if Peggy could easily have left.

The framing of Don on the couch has shifted left. A space has opened.

Peggy wants to finish the fight she started with Mark by taking on the man at the opposite end of what’s expected of her. Her insult of Don's personal life is as much towards herself as to him. The remark doesn't faze Don in the least.

Peggy's body now occupies the space to Don's left, further establishing her imposing presence.

Now it is Don who insults Peggy's personal life, patronizing her for being girlish. But Peggy, too, is unfazed. She jabs directly at what really bothers her.

Unlike with Peggy's insult of his personal life, Don takes this insult of his professional life as "personal" Don is ready to fight, if only to drown out the more painful feelings of grief. He can do it best where he feels most at home: the office.

The scene moves into tighter closeups of Don and Peggy as they exchange jabs with increased intensity

Like Cassius Clay in the prize fight going on that night, Peggy fights with sharp, rapid flurries. Like Clay’s opponent, Sonny Liston, Don is slower, methodical, and forceful.

Don's face is intensely red. He needs the emotional release of this fight as much as Peggy.

Peggy again seeks recognition, but now it’s not professional. It’s emotional. But showing emotions is unprofessional. She’s been caught with her gloves down. Don finally unleashes.

The knockout blow: one last insult encapsulating the conflicts running through the scene.

Serena Bramble is a film editor currently pursuing a Bachelor's degree in Teledramatic Arts and Technology from Cal State Monterey Bay. In addition to editing, she also writes on her blog Brief Encounters of the Cinematic Kind.

Deborah Lipp is the co-owner of Basket of Kisses, whose motto is "smart discussion about smart television." She is the author of six books, including "The Ultimate James Bond Fan Book."

Roberta Lipp is the co-owner of Basket of Kisses and is or has been a voiceover artist, improvisor, actor, singer/songwriter, blogger and Mad Men aficionado. She plans to produce a one-woman show.

Kevin B. Lee is Editor in Chief of IndieWire’s PressPlay Video Blog and contributor to Roger Ebert.com. Follow him on Twitter.

VIDEO – The Top Five Mad Men Moments

VIDEO – The Top Five Mad Men Moments

Part of the Mad Men Moments Video Essay Series

Click here to watch this video on your mobile device.

The Mad Men Moments video essay series is co-produced by Deborah Lipp, co-owner with Roberta Lipp of the popular Mad Men website Basket of Kisses. The site features a robust community of Mad Men fans, so we thought to poll them on their expert opinion on what the best moments of the series have been after four seasons.  Here are the results, with the selected scenes featured in the video above. Below are brief accounts of each scene written by several members of the Basket of Kisses community.
 

5. Peggy and Joan, (4.13: Tomorrowland)
This scene, full of small pleasures, takes off when Joan becomes Peggy's safe place on a bad day. “Whatever could be on your mind,” she purrs. – Anne B

4. Don and Peggy hold hands (4.07: The Suitcase)
If actions speak louder than words…if three years of previous build-up lead to one glorious culmination…that is the pinnacle of this episode's (and for that matter, this season's) denouement: never was a simple gesture so fraught with dimensionality of meaning as when Dick Whitman places his hand on top of Peggy Olson's. – Peg4Prez

3. "Open the drawer" (3.11: The Gypsy and the Hobo)
The Don/Betty game changer. Just when you think Don's about to run away with Suzanne, the woman of his dreams, Betty makes it crystal clear that he'll never outrun his past. It's shocking — in a good way — to see Don suddenly so helpless and small. – Andee Joyce, aka Meowser

2. "I Wanted Other Things" (2.13: Meditations in an Emergency) 
The writers’ words often carry several shades of meaning on Mad Men, and this is one instance. "Well, one day you're there, and then all of a sudden, there's less of you, and you wonder where that part went, if it's living somewhere outside of you, and you keep thinking maybe you'll get it back, and then you realize it's just gone." At first, we wonder if Peggy is talking about the baby, coming as it does on the heels of her confession. Then we understand she’s referring to her own feelings for Pete—she “wanted something different”. And then, a deeper echo of truth—there is a cost to moving forward, and it’s not just giving up a piece of the past. The weight of her words is crushing, almost cruelly made lighter by the tenderness of her touch across Pete’s shoulder as she leaves. – Mitch Virchick

1. Carousel (1.13: The Wheel)
Everybody loves this scene. Don’s pitch leaves the men from Kodak speechless. The scene serves the show, tapping into the right plot points, but what really makes it work isn’t on the screen. It’s our own set of life-shots, inserted into the projector’s circular slide tray, in our mind’s-eye. Brilliant! – SmilerG

Deborah Lipp is the co-owner of Basket of Kisses (hyperlink), whose motto is "smart discussion about smart television." She is the author of six books, including "The Ultimate James Bond Fan Book."

VIDEO: The story of BREAKING BAD, as told by its opening scenes, seasons 3 & 4

VIDEO: The story of BREAKING BAD, as told by its opening scenes, seasons 3 & 4

[Editor's note: The Press Play Breaking Bad intro compilation for season 3 is here. The season 4 compilation can be found here. Each episode of AMC's drama Breaking Bad starts with a prologue or teaser. Some of these advance the season's ongoing plot. Others feel like self-contained, at times experimental short films. We wondered: If you strung all of the opening scenes from the various seasons together in chronological order, would the show's basic narrative make sense? And, if people who had never watched Breaking Bad watched only these curtain-raisers, would they come away with a more or less accurate impression of the show? Or would it seem like a different program entirely? We asked Press Play contributor Dave Bunting, Jr. to edit the prologues together in chronological order to create two self-contained Breaking Bad movies, one covering Seasons 1 and 2, the other covering Seasons 3 and 4. Then we asked another Press Play contributor, Sheila O'Malley — who has never seen a frame of the series — to watch the two compilations and write down her impressions. Sheila was asked not to read any supplementary material before or during the experiment, and she agreed. Her written account is derived entirely from having watched Dave's compilations. Shorn of everything but its openings, was Breaking Bad still Breaking Bad? Read on and see. If you want to see exactly what Sheila saw, the prologues for Season 3 and 4 are embedded above.]

nullSeason 3 opens with a surreal scene of a group of people crawling in the dirt through a rustic Mexican village.  It seems that some well-known ritual is taking place.  Nobody seems too surprised at the sight.  A gleaming car pulls up and two men get out.  They are bald, handsome, and dressed in immaculate suits.  They are also identical twins.  Without hesitation, they join the ritual, lying down in the dirt, despite their silk suits, and crawling along with the others.  The destination is a run-down shack which has been built into some kind of shrine.  Inside there are lit candles with dripping wax and bouquets and skulls draped in beads.  The men in suits pin a picture up on the wall.  It is a sketch of the chemistry teacher.  Wherever we are in this opening scene is far from the sun-blasted streets of Albuquerque (the stomping grounds of the chemistry teacher), but it is clear that his fearsome influence is spreading.

Delving more and more into the backend machinations on the Mexican side of the border, Seasons 3 and 4 feature Mexican drug dealers, drug lords and drug runners, all far removed from the American scene, and yet connected by an unbreakable thread.  The identical twins have targeted some of their main competition in New Mexico, and the shrine is devoted to keeping track of those targets.  Not only is a sketch of the chemistry teacher up on the wall, but a photograph of the chemistry teacher's brother-in-law (who also happens to be a DEA agent) is added to the mix.  Both characters experience attempts on their lives over the course of the two seasons.  The situation is no longer local.  Mexico is coming in, and hard, the tentacles of the drug war proliferating.

Jumping around in time, we see how the chemistry teacher got hooked up with the young man whom we have come to know as his partner in the first two seasons.  In his time teaching chemistry in high school, the young man was one of his students.  As they begin to set up their partnership, the chemistry teacher orders the kid to buy an RV, which will be essential to setting up a private meth lab, as well as transporting the drugs.  The young man, who is clearly undeveloped as an adult, promptly goes to a strip club and spends almost all of it on strippers and Dom Perignon.  A friend of his, the drug dealer in the white track suit whom we saw murdered by the child on the bicycle in an earlier season, hooks him up with an RV (illegally, of course).

nullThis young man lives in isolation in a ratty room, spending most of his time playing violent video games, imagining his real-life enemies before him.  He dates a pretty young woman, who takes him to a Georgia O'Keefe exhibit.  He is singularly unimpressed, staring at one of O'Keefe's famous flower paintings and declaring,  "That doesn't look like any vagina I ever saw." In the car afterwards, they talk about art, and repetition, and she tries to tell him what he is missing in his interpretaion of O'Keefe's work. In this scene he is almost fresh-faced.  He kisses her gently.  You really see how far this kid has fallen when you consider that in most other scenes he is either jacked up on meth, buying gas he can't pay for and then trading drugs with the cashier to pay for it, or beaten almost beyond recognition.  There is a slow steady progression into hell with this character, and leaping around in time nails that point home.

We see the frightening poker-faced identical twins in flashback, two little boys playing in the yard, while their uncle looks on.  In a terrifying scene, the uncle pushes one of the boy's heads underneath the water in a bucket of beer beside him.  It is to teach his nephews a lesson.  The little boy almost drowns.  As the two boys crouch together staring up at their uncle, it is clear why they would grow up to be the demonic straight-faced killers that they become.
Out in the desert, the twins commandeer an isolated house, murdering the resident, and setting up shop, casually hanging out their clothes to dry.  A cop shows up to check on the resident who hasn't been seen in a long time, and they murder him too, hacking him to death with an axe.  The twins are moving closer every day, closer to their targets on the shrine wall.
nullSeasons 3 and 4 also deal heavily with the chemistry aspect of meth production (which is a propos seeing as how the opening credits sequence features a periodic table), as well as the ins and outs of running a successful drug dealing business.  A local Mexican restaurant in Albuquerque called Los Pollos Hermanos is a front, and freezer trucks filled with crystals hurtle across the desert, with armed men crouched in the back, their breath showing in the cold darkness.  Often these trucks are stopped by rival drug-dealers.  Multiple shoot-outs occur.  We also see the creation of the meth itself, characters in white suits and gloves moving the gleaming blue crystals along, bagging them up.  Later, we learn that this particular brand of meth is 99% pure, and industry-standard appears to be around 96%.  Others wonder what the secret is, how this meth can be so pure, and how it is done.  That 3% gap in quality serves to "up" other people's games.

The chemistry teacher finds himself deeper and deeper in the netherworld of crime and danger, separating from his wife and child even further.  His brother-in-law is shot by one of the Mexican twins, fulfilling the prophecy on the shrine's wall.  Both twins are killed by police in the aftermath.  The DEA teams up with the FBI and local homicide detectives, and so the chemistry teacher knows that his time is nearly up.  He meets with a gun seller and buys a gun with the serial number scraped off.  He knows how bad it will be if he is caught with such an illegal weapon, but he needs the protection.  Alongside of these scenes, we see him in flashback househunting with his pregnant wife, looking forward to a better and more aspirational future, even though he already has the cancer that is slowly killing him.

nullBut the chemistry teacher has been living in two worlds for too long. As Season 4 progresses, that separation becomes harder and harder to maintain

Breaking Bad has multiple visual references to John Ford's The Searchers, with its famous opening and closing shots of dark interiors with doors opening onto colorful desert vistas.  This has to be a deliberate choice, since those shots are so famous, and they are used so often here.  The Searchers is a story not only about a man's desire for revenge, but also racism and the deadly culture clash that existed in the old frontier West.  We may think we have moved on past those days, we may pride ourselves on being more civilized and enlightened.  But Breaking Bad, with its consistent nod to The Searchers in those visual cues, is a reminder that the same tensions exist.  The frontier in America is as wild and lawless as ever, and there is the same stark separation between darkness and light.


Sheila O'Malley is a film critic for Capital New York. She blogs about film, television, theater, music, literature and pretty much everything else at The Sheila Variations.

Dave Bunting, Jr. is a writer, musician and audio engineer, and a frequent narrator of videos for Press Play, The L Magazine and TomatoNation.

VIDEO ESSAY: A close analysis of the Season 1 title sequence from THE WIRE

VIDEO ESSAY: A close analysis of the Season 1 title sequence from THE WIRE

[EDITOR'S NOTE: The following is the very first video essay collaboration between Press Play founder Matt Zoller Seitz and editor-in-chief Kevin B. Lee: an analysis of the opening credits for Season 1 of The Wire, exploring how the images highlight themes of the season and offer predictive snippets of future plot twists. It was originally published at Moving Image Source in 2008. The piece is narrated by critic Andrew Dignan, from a written essay originally published at The House Next Door. To read the original article in full, click here.]

http://www.movingimagesource.us/flash/mediaplayer.swf?id=39/667

VIDEO: The story of BREAKING BAD, as told by its opening scenes

VIDEO: The story of BREAKING BAD, as told by its opening scenes


[Editor's note: Each episode of AMC's drama Breaking Bad starts with a prologue or teaser. Some of these advance the season's ongoing plot. Others feel like self-contained, at times experimental short films. We wondered: If you strung all of the opening scenes from the various seasons together in chronological order, would the show's basic narrative make sense? And, if people who had never watched Breaking Bad watched only these curtain-raisers, would they come away with a more or less accurate impression of the show? Or would it seem like a different program entirely? We asked Press Play contributor Dave Bunting, Jr. to edit the prologues together in chronological order to create two self-contained Breaking Bad movies, one covering Seasons 1 and 2, the other covering 3 and 4. Then we asked another Press Play contributor, Sheila O'Malley — who has never seen a frame of the series — to watch the two compilations and write down her impressions. Sheila was asked not to read any supplementary material before or during the experiment, and she agreed. Her written account is derived entirely from having watched Dave's compilations. Shorn of everything but its openings, was Breaking Bad still Breaking Bad? Read on and see. If you want to watch exactly what Sheila saw, the prologues for Season 1 and 2 are embedded above.]

Albuquerque has a huge meth problem.  Meth labs blow up in the desert, in the suburbs, in the center of urban areas. High schools are broken into, chemistry labs ransacked.  The situation has gotten so extreme that an FBI task force has been assigned to investigate.  They argue over what to call their investigation.  "Operation Icebreaker." "But isn't that a breath mint?"  There are two Mexicans of the criminal class who have vanished, and it is thought that their disappearance has something to do with the Albuquerque meth war.  The meth found at the various crime scenes is purer than anything before seen in the area, so it is clear there are "new players in town".  The FBI is determined to find out who they are.

Breaking Bad is told in a non-linear, non-chronological fashion.  Season 1 opens with a climax. The rest of the series is told in flashback.  An RV barrels through the desert at breakneck speed, being driven by a man wearing a gas mask.  Is he fleeing from a nuclear event?  Is he some sort of ecological terrorist?  He is so panicked he loses control of the RV.  There are dead bodies in the back of the RV.  His passenger has been knocked out by the crash, head smashed against the dashboard.  The man tosses the gas mask into the dirt, and stands in his underwear beside the crashed RV, recording a farewell message on a flip-cam to his wife and child at home.  The sound of sirens fill the air, and he walks up to the road, gun drawn, ready to meet his pursuers.

The series is devoted to showing us how this man got to that desperate point.  It leaps around in time.

There are multiple characters whom we follow and track.
nullFirst we have gas mask man, who is a chemistry teacher, on medical leave due to his fight with cancer.  It is clear that he is living a double life.  His wife, Skyler, appears to have no idea that he is also a Drug Lord running a meth lab out of a battered RV.  They visit the oncologist.  The prognosis does not look good.  He is very ill, balding and thin (although he has a full head of hair in the first scene with the getaway RV).   The FBI calls a meeting of the school board to discuss the recent theft of chemistry equipment. The teacher gets a round of applause because he is so ill and yet has the commitment to show up at the meeting.  Little do they all know that he was the one behind the ransacking of the chem lab in the first place.  He spends the meeting distracted, silent, and putting his hand between his wife's legs under the table.

He partners up with a young kid who used to be one of the main meth dealers in town.  The kid has been trying to go straight. We first see him applying for a job at a local business, gleaming-eyed with ambition that he "would make a great salesman".  Unfortunately, without experience or a college education the best he can hope for is to put on a silly costume and stand on the sidewalk as a walking ad.  He thinks this is beneath him and storms out.  Meanwhile, he can't walk down the street without former customers coming up to him asking him if he has anything he wants to sell.  He deals with some pretty unsavory characters and is finally roped into business with the chemistry teacher who informs him ferociously that this will be an unequal partnership:  If anything bad goes down, then they do not know each other.  "I want no interaction with the customers whatsoever," he says. In a quick cut, he is then seen emerging from an exploded building, blood pouring from his nose, carrying a bloodstained bag. The two of them wander the desert, burying a gun, and hitching a ride with a passing truck.

nullWe also see them back in the crashed RV in the desert, staring at the dead bodies in the back, one of which, horrifyingly, starts to move and moan.  Flashing back, we see the two of them in a house, wearing gas masks, cleaning up after a brutal murder, body parts blown apart, flushing the meaty pieces down the toilet.  They choke and gag at what they are doing.  These two bodies are the missing Mexicans we've seen earlier, swimming across a muddy river.

The chemistry teacher gets sicker and begins to lose his grip.  He is found standing stark-naked in a crowded convenience store. He misses the birth of his baby because he is in the middle of a crisis situation with his meth business.  He tells his wife he was stuck in traffic.  A neighbor had driven her to the hospital.  The chemistry teacher fears that she is having an affair with the neighbor, and judging from the tender way she kisses the neighbor goodbye in the hospital, it seems that his fears are not unfounded.

The drug war in Albuquerque is shown in various innovative ways, an ongoing and creative theme the series revisits again and again.

There's a veritable music video, with three Mexican singers standing out in the desert, in flashy jackets, playing guitars, and singing about the new Gringo drug lord in town.  "Now New Mexico is living up to its name …” they croon in Spanish.

In a cliffhanger of a scene, a rival drug lord, in a white track suit, is murdered by a 10-year-old kid on a bicycle.

nullA meth lab has blown up in a nice suburban home with a swimming pool.  A charred pink teddy bear, with one missing eyeball, floats in the pool, before being lifted out by a looming figure in a Hazmat suit.  Evidence is bagged and lined up on the concrete.  There are two body bags in the driveway.  These are recurring dreamlike images, filmed entirely in black and white, except for the teddy bear, which blazes in pink against the monochromatic background.  The bear is shown floating through the water, one side completely burnt from the explosion.  This scene is shown repeatedly throughout the series and takes on an increasingly haunting aspect with each insistent repetition.  The floating lone eyeball peers up through the water into the blazing light of day before being sucked into the bowels of the pool.

Everyone in the series is working with just one eyeball.  Nobody can see the whole picture.


Sheila O'Malley is a film critic for Capital New York. She blogs about film, television, theater, music, literature and pretty much everything else at The Sheila Variations.

Dave Bunting, Jr. is a writer, musician and audio engineer, and a frequent narrator of videos for Press Play, The L Magazine and TomatoNation.