I’m a total scared-y cat wuss.
There’s a direct relationship between horror movies, gory bits, or make-you-go-AH-things and the speed at which my hands fly over my eyes and my body lurches behind the nearest blanket, pillow, person or shield I can lob myself betwixt. I take this opportunity now to congratulate the lucky citizens in the Rotterdam theater that got to witness my much-too-old-to-be-sprinting-away-exit from The Sixth Sense. Trust me, for my dignity and the safety of those around me, it was well worth the hide and hurry.
Now you can all make the safe leap that a show like Breaking Bad would be on my do not watch list. There’s blood. Gore. Shootings. Drugs. Suspense. Hide-worthy images at every 8 minute interval! But. It’s also the best gorram show on television.
I resisted. Oh, yes, I tried. But the powers at AMC had other plans for me. Breaking Bad is the single most encompassing experience to hit your living room, and you too will root for the “bad guy” and hope to high Hades that the drug dealers don’t get caught. I found myself fixating on how Walter White and Jesse Pinkman were going to get out of “that mess” (figuratively and more often than not- literally) and watched through webbed digits the stealth menace and stoic composure of one Gustavo Fring develop into one seriously cool character. That’s this guy in the yellow shirt and tie. Even his posture is calculated. Freaking brilliant.
With believable dialogue, fantastic writing, humor so dark black holes would invert, and sensational acting – do yourself the supreme favor of starting from the beginning and watching the epicness unfold. You can thank me later. I’ll be here.