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Jesse has begun to chafe under the thumb of the economic model under which he's operating, both with Gus reaping the lion's share of profits for the meth he's cooking, and with Saul suggesting he launder his money through a shady day-spa. ("So I'll have to pay taxes?") Jesse's solution makes perfect sense if you follow his trajectory towards dangerous wild-card territory: he's going to skim meth off the top of his and Walt's batches, then use Badger and Skinny to sell it to his rehab group. There is literally no way this can go wrong.
Walt also has a conversation with Gus in which he reveals he knows that Gus set Hank's shooting in motion, and was the mystery caller. Walt also says it's exactly what he would have done in the same situation. And after disparaging Jesse's economic discontent as mere whining, Walt is nevertheless inspired to use this knowledge as leverage to squeeze a better deal out of Gus: $15 million, open-ended. You'd think Walt would be happy about this, rather than moved to drive 90 mph down the highway, drift into the other lane, and very nearly speed headfirst into a semi. And yet ...
Meanwhile, Hank is alive but unable to walk, and the prognosis is sketchy, but the real problem is that insurance isn't going to be able to pay for the physical therapy he'll need to walk again. So Skyler, who has been looking for a way to have her cake and eat it, too, for several weeks now, decides that Walt is going to pay for Hank's medical bills. And so she delivers an impeccable and elaborate fiction to Marie about Walt making 7-figures-plus via illegal gambling. And having already let Ted Beneke down not-so-easy, Skyler's path is now clear to returning to Walt and his financial security, though she's under no illusions as to the danger Walt has and will put her family in.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!This week's episode begins with a TV commercial for El Pollo Knockoffo, one that emphasizes the old-school values of "Los Pollos Hermanos." At the end, the visual of cascading fried chicken parts (uh...yum?) dissolved into a visual of cascading meth crystals. NICE. And so now, after getting a fantasy of the fast-food chicken business, we get a crash course in the reality of Gus's blue meth business. Specifically, how it gets boxed up by Walter and Jesse, then transferred to the small army of employees who bag the stuff, seal it up inside tubs of Pollos chicken batter (each one marked with a star only visible under a black light), load it on to Pollos trucks, and ship it out across the Southwest. Overseeing the trucks as they disperse is one Mr. Gustavo Frings. Quite the operation he's got there for himself.
After the credits, Walt and Jesse are measuring out their haul. They owe Gus 200 lbs., and this particular batch, as reported by Jesse, weighs 201.6 lbs. (Also, is Gus's operation the only drug ring not operating under the metric system? That's almost quaintly patriotic.) Walt simply says, "Better to be over than under," but Jesse is perturbed that they're throwing 1.6 lbs. of product Gus's way for free. See, Jesse's been crunching the numbers (...oh, stop laughing), and he's decided that the million-and-a-half he and Walter are getting is peanuts compared to what Gus is making off their labor. Oh, Jesse. Maybe you can get into a weed-selling operation with an old economics professor of yours so he can tell you how capitalism works. Walter, rather than explain to Jesse about how they're compensated less because they incur less risk as humble lab techs, simply tells Jesse not to look a gift horse in the mouth. But to Jesse, the numbers don't lie, and the imbalance of what Gus is making (Jesse works it out to $96 million) versus his and Walter's take ($3 mil to split between them) is positively obscene. Walter takes the perspective familiar to sports fans worldwide: "Jesse, you are now a millionaire, and now you're complaining? What world do you live in?" Jesse replies that he lives in a world where "the dudes who do all the work ain't getting fisted.: Not that I don't think Jesse has a point, but seriously, what world IS that? Anyway, Jesse wants to hash this out, but Walt just walks away.
In Hank's hospital room, the family busies itself making the room "comfortable," while Hank dozes. Gomez shows up, gingerly asking Marie for permission. Hank stirs and, barely audible, calls Gomie closer to him. Closer. Cloooser. With Gomez's ear almost to Hank's mouth, Hank croaks out, "Asshole." Flynn laughs that his uncle "Got [Gomez] good," while Gomie's like, "Yeah, great to have you back, you big douche." Hank's laughter is choked off by the pain he's in. Gomez pulls out a map for Hank, one which shows the blue meth has been cropping up all over the southwest as of late. Hank asks how that's supposed to make him feel better. Because Gomez merely telling Hank he was right all along -- "You were the only one who saw it coming" -- is pretty cold comfort now. Hank slams him thumb impatiently on his Morphine button, but Marie remarks that he's still on lock-out. Hasn't been an hour since he maxed out the dosage. She heads out to find a doctor who can maybe up Hank's meds, and as she leaves, she orders Gomez not to talk any more shop.
After Marie ducks out, Hank tells Gomez, "I didn't see it coming." Not enough of it, at least. And the only reason he made it out of the shootout alive is because he got an anonymous phone call tipping him off. Walter, Gomez, even Skyler all perk up at this new information. Gomez is incredulous that a cartel hit would have included a warning call. By the look on Walt's face, he's even more incredulous. Hank cries out in pain, and Skyler -- one eye on Walt -- tells him to hold on.
Walt heads out to his car, so he can take a moment and process this new information. Everything he hears about Hank's shooting has pointed the finger more and more directly at Gus Frings ... which means it's also pointed at Walt. I suppose it's progress that Walt is no longer rationalizing his guilt like he did after the plane crash. He's clearly feeling it all. Skyler joins him in the car, and he tries to assure her that he had "nothing to do" with Hank's shooting. She shakes her head at him, to get him to stop talking. She only has one question: "Are we safe?" "Yes," says Walt, an answer which is too kneejerk (and accompanied by too disbelieving an expression from Walt) to mean anything. Skyler persists: "Are you safe?" Walt at least tries to sell it this time when he says, "Absolutely." Skyler leaves the car, and we cut to an aerial shot of the parking lot -- similar to the parking lot Hank was in when he got shot. Is Walt's life one giant parking lot where his loved ones get hunted down for his sins? And if so, are there adequate handicapped spots?
After the break, we see Jesse meeting with his drug support group. I'd just assumed he blew the group off after getting out of rehab, so this gives me a glimmer of hope for our Jesse. Jere Burns is back as the group moderator, too. He asks Jesse how it's going, and Jesse starts talking about his job. You know, the Laundromat. It's a corporate Laundromat, he says. "Lots of red tape. My boss is a dick. The owner -- super dick. I'm not worthy or whatever to meet him, but I guess everybody's scared of the dude. The place is full of dead-eyed douchebags, the hours suck, nobody knows what's going on." Jere Burns looks like he's fascinated by these working conditions. "Sounds kind of Kafkaesque,: he remarks. Jesse heartily agrees, then looks around the room for context clues. Seeing none, he just repeats, "Totally Kafkaesque."
At the hospital, Marie and Skyler are oohing and aaahing over the various gift baskets that have been pouring in. This is ostensibly for Hank's benefit, but he certainly doesn't seem to be enjoying it. Skyler starts to extol the virtues of one cheese-stick-laden basket, but when Marie reads the card, from Ted Beneke, Skyler gets all shifty. She's saved from further Marie ravings about what a generous boss Ted is by the doctor showing up. He's here to test Hank's legs, see if he's feeling anything. Hank feels nothing at first, but as the doctor applies more pressure, Hank can feel a "tingle." On a scale of one to ten, with ten being regular normal sensation, Hank's a six in the one leg, and a 3-4 in the other. But this is good news, Marie confirms. "Now," she asks, "when can we get him walking again." The pause that follows is troubling. The smash cut to Marie's troubled face is equally so. Now it's the doctor and a hospital bureaucrat sitting down with Marie and Skyler. There's talk of managing expectations, but Marie only wants to hear about when physical therapy starts. Once the insurance paperwork clears, the bureaucrat says, probably week. That's not going to work, for Marie. She knows Hank's chances are better with daily sessions that start ASAP. But, true to her form, the bureaucrat says insurance will only cover four days a week. And the doctor adds to the shitpile when he says the doctors in Hank's network are "mostly fine." Marie's not interested; she wants 7-day PT with the best doctors, and she'll let the insurance company reimburse her later. The hospital liaison strongly advises against this, says the costs could rise to the hundreds of thousands; she's seen people go bankrupt, and there's no guarantee the insurance companies will reimburse her at all. This looks bleak, but Marie's not that belligerent look in her eye. She asks for a list of the best physical therapists in the area, insurance be damned.
And while we're discussing physical therapy, think the Breaking Bad team, why not shift to a closeup of a foot being massaged? Um ... even when that foot belonged to Saul Goodman. Okay. Jesse shows up at this strip-mall day spa -- where my liberal guilt is working overtime to keep me from mentioning that it's all Asian ladies working here -- clearly having been summoned by Saul. Wait, isn't this where Saul gets his little rub and tug? Wait, no, that's his chiropractor. Anyway, he's called Jesse here (actually, he called Walt too, but he didn't show up) to offer him this very salon as a prime money-laundering investment. Jesse doesn't catch on at first, and once Saul spells it out, he starts to walk out. Saul says he's serious -- and Jesse needs to get serious about staying out of jail. Don't end up like Capone and get nabbed for tax evasion. Saul then embarks upon a fairly informative presentation where he explains the basics of money laundering and the benefits it holds for a young drug dealer like Jesse. But Jesse is ... well, a young drug dealer. So all he hears is "taxable income," and he's out. "I'm a criminal, yo," he says. Saul gets serious and says if Jesse wants to remain a criminal, as opposed to a convict, it's time to smarten up. Jesse thinks Saul just wants his 5%. Saul says it's 17%, actually. Walt got 5 due to "privileges of seniority." Saul, we were all there. More like "privileges of almost walking out on your sad ass." Which is what Jesse does now. Of course, Saul's already got one meal ticket, so he can afford to let this one walk out, for now.
Walt arrives at the Pollos compound to have a chat with Gus. This appears to be the same trailer where Gus earlier met with Bolsa, Tio, and the Cousins, but it felt much smaller then. This scene is being shot to represent the largeness of Gus's operation and influence, so it looks like a cavern. Anyway, after some unconvincing pleasantries and asking after Hank, Gus asks Walt what's troubling him. Walt says he came here to "lay the cards out on the table." He says he knows about the phone call Hank got just before the attack, and he believes that same person was protecting him. He thinks the assassins (Cousins) were after him and this unseen person (who shall remain nameless) diverted them towards Hank. So on one level, Walt's alive thanks to this certain, completely anonymous, someone. But Walt also believes this person -- whoever he may be and however many chicken parts he sells daily -- warned Hank so that there'd be a shootout, leaving both sides bloodies. In one stroke, this unnamed man, who may or may not wear glasses, set the American and Mexican governments against the cartel, thus cutting off the supply chain from Mexico. If this man -- this unassuming, nerdily-dressed man -- were to have a source of product here in the states, he'd pretty much have the market to himself. You know ... not bad, Walter. If this were a movie, Gus would begin slow-clapping for you right about now.
Walt says they're both adults, and while he knows this mystery person is Gus -- WHAT??? -- Walt still owes him his life. And beyond that, "I respect the strategy," he says. "In your position, I would have done the same." Immediately, you know it's true. And from the look on Walt's face, he does too. That can't be a happy realization for him. Walt moves on to the reasons he's here: "I don't know what happens when our three-month contract ends." He wants security for his family. Without hesitation, Gus extends the $3 mil for 3 months deal out to $12 mil a year. "Call it fifteen," he says, employing the spontaneous largesse if a man rolling in chicken 'n meth money. He also proclaims his agreement with Walt now "open-ended." So ... good news? Walt's not in business with Gus for the forseeable future?
Obviously, this was the move Walt felt he had to make, but as we see him speeding down the near-empty desert road away from the Chicken Shack, Walt's obviously not entirely happy. Is it the regret of the man who made a deal with the devil? Is it the loss of control over his life that he's now ceded pretty much entirely to Gus? Is it the shame of knowing he's not only not going to punish the man who had his brother-in-law shot but that he's going to cook for him permanently? Probably all those and more. So he drives, and he gets more upset, and he pushes harder on the gas. As he passes 90 MPH, he closes his eyes, and the car drifts over the center line. The soundtrack shifts to ethereal "My mind is at peace and it could stay this way if I die in a heinous car wreck right about now" music. Walt's now headed directly towards an oncoming 18-wheeler, which really can't do anything to move out of his way. And honestly, why should it? It's big enough to survive the impact with Walt. So it blares its horn, warning the oncoming car not to fuck with it. And at the last possible minute, Walt swerves out of its path. Imagine having to swerve like that while going that fast. It's not exactly easy to regain control of the car. Walt careens all over the road before sliding to a stop off to the side, miraculously unharmed. I'd say this is a decent metaphor for the position Walt now finds himself in -- heading down the road towards inevitable catastrophe and doom and going far too fast to stop easily -- only in Walter's life, that road is littered with cars; cars like Skyler and Flynn and Hank and Marie and Jesse. And even if he tries to swerve out of the way, he's sure to take one or more of them out in the process. Also, seriously, how much is Walt gonna put that poor car through before it's all over?
At rehab group, Jere Burns is encouraging his recovering addicts to air out their daily frustrations as a way to ward off relapse triggers. But he's having trouble finding takers. Wait, nobody wants to bitch and complain about every little thing? Jere, I'd like to direct you to this little corner of the internet called ALL OF IT. He finally prods Jesse about that job it sure seemed like he hated last week. He asks if Jesse could do anything, irrespective of money, what would he do. Jesse obviously doesn't want to answer, but he wades into it. "Maybe work with my hands," he says, "make something." He relates a story about a woodworking class he took in high school, and his teacher, Mr. Pike. Jesse's project was to build a wooden box, which he did fairly shoddily, because: Jesse. But this Mr. Pike took a look at it and honestly asked Jesse, "Is this the best you can do?" Jesse doesn't say the word "inspired," but that's what he was, and he kept at the box-making task until he ended up making the finest, most well-constructed, best-smelling box (oh shut up) you ever saw. Something he could be proud of. Jere asks what he did with it. "Gave it to my mom," Jesse says, eyes down. Jere starts talking about art classes and adult education, but Jesse cuts him off. He didn't give the box to his mom. He traded it for an ounce of weed. You know, when Jesse first started talking about "Mr. Pike," I thought he was going to relate a story about Walt and just change the name. Could not have been more wrong, but it made me listen to the Mr. Pike story with Walt in mind. Think about how thoroughly Walt failed Jesse as a teacher. Not just in accelerating and deepening his place in the drug world, but also the way he discourages him. Of course, maybe Mr. Pike never came down with fatal lung cancer.
Back at the Whites' house, Marie is ranting to Skyler about the inhuman insurance practices. "He's a hero," Marie justifies, saying the insurance company would never deny coverage to a hero. Skyler, who's been through this before with Walt, is a realist: Marie will end up burning through her savings, and then what? Marie wants to head back to the hospital, but Skyler tries to convince her to stick around, wash up, get rested. The doorbell rings, and it's Ted Beneke. Doesn't he already feel out of place now that the family unit had closed ranks like this? Skyler is, of course, mucho uncomfortable, what with Marie there and all. Marie thanks him for the thoughtful gift of cheese sticks. Skyler is peer-pressured to invite him inside, at which point Marie says she's going to take that bath after all. Things don't get any less uncomfortable with Marie out of the room, which can't be a good sign for Ted. Skyler tries to shuffle him out the door with a "not the best time for a visit," but Ted says he hasn't heard from her in days and he cares about her. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you." And that's great! Only Skyler would prefer if his "being here" could take place elsewhere. She's almost got him out the door -- a problem to deal with at another time -- when he says that, given Marie's seen him now, why not just go public. After all, he's divorced and Skyler's divorced now, right? "Let's talk about it later?" she says. He presses, and she says it's not a good time. He presses again, and finally Skyler snaps at him, "You really want to do this now?" The time she raises her voice, implicitly threatening to upset the fragile near-widow in the room, "You're really gonna make me do this RIGHT NOW?" He's not, and message received, I'd figure. Before he leaves, Skyler looks at him with regret and says she'll see him at the office in a day or two. After all, those books won't cook themselves!
Jesse's at a diner with Badger and Skinny Pete, and that veritable braintrust is talking about Jesse's current "fucked up" situation, where his "outlaw" status is being sullied by things like taxes and responsibility. "Darth Vader had responsibilities," Badger muses. "He was responsible for the Death Star." Indeed. And Skinny chimes in, "Two of them bitches." Jesse still thinks the whole tax thing is "messed up, yo. It's Kafkaesque." And now Badger and Skinny will tell two friends their fun new word. And they'll tell two friends. And so on. And so on. Anyway, Jesse's idea is that they should start slinging again. Skinny and Badger are jazzed to start up the old business again, but Jesse's not going for that shake-n-bake shit anymore. Nor is he interested in selling on the streets. "Maybe I know a whole new market," says Jesse, with more than a little of that wicked gleam he's had in his eyes all season." Maybe alls we need is the meth." This is starting to feel like Boogie Nights right before they try to rip off Alfred Molina. Jesse, you've just got your face back to its old, cute self. Don't risk it again so soon .
Back at America's Meth Kitchen, Walt is polishing his industrial vats to a robust shine. He may have ceded his entire life over to Gus, but damn it, he's still the master of his own lab. Across the room, Jesse's weighing another box of meth. Walt asks for the yield, and Jesse distractedly tells him it's 201.8. Only for real, it's 202.1. Not sure at what point in the process Jesse plans to skim off the excess, but the man clearly has a plan.
After the break, we're back at recovery group. Jere Burns is commenting on the new faces he sees in the group. The camera pans around the circle, and if you haven't figured it out yet, you do once the camera moves behind a ski-capped white boy hunkered down across from Jere. Badger introduces himself as "Brandon," and starts spinning his tale of woe. He's actually halfway decent talking about how he's here because of meth and he tried to kick it a couple of times, but now there's this new stuff out there. In a wonderful perspective-switching shot, we see Skinny's across the circle as he chimes in, "Not that blue stuff!" Like someone would say "That's why I use Bounty brand paper towels!" After Skinny apologizes for talking out of turn, he bullshits that he wishes he never heard of the stuff. "It was like lighting my whole head on fire." We start to see quick glimpses of the other addicts, and the glimmer of recognition in their beaten-down faces. Badger lies that at least it's gone away now, before Skinny helpfully chimes in, "No, it's back now." Two or three heads almost imperceptibly perk up at that notion, and Jesse smirks without ever looking up. And it's funny -- Badger and Skinny feigning rehab solidarity is absurd in the best way -- but I am suddenly sure of exactly one thing on this show: This is the worst thing Jesse will ever do. It's been said before that as much as Breaking Bad shows the destructive effects of the meth trade on ostensibly good people like Walt and Jesse (and, this season, even Skyler) but not a lot of the destructive effects of meth on the end user. I think this development is fixing to correct that imbalance in a brilliant and terrible way.
Meanwhile, Walt's peeking in on Hank's hospital room as his brother-in-law sleeps. Behind Walt, Marie rants to Skyler about how she's going to take Hank's story to the cable news shows, and they're going to be outraged, because Hank's a hero, remember, and the outcry will be so great that the insurance companies will be shamed into covering him. Skyler lets Marie spin her wheels and tire herself out, and eventually she sits. Walt once again offers "whatever you need," which sounds lovely in the abstract. Skyler's more interested in making that offer concrete. "Walt," she begins, "We could always pay their bills. Marie says it's tens of thousands of dollars, but Skyler says they have it. Walt tries to stop her from telling Marie, but she barrels on through and says, "He earned it gambling."
At this, Walt's jaw drops but he doesn't say anything. A) because he can't, but also I think B) because he's awfully curious as to where Skyler's going with this. Frankly, so am I. And so Skyler spins a complete fiction for Marie (and Walt), one that explains the marital woes and Walt's erratic behavior last year and the fact that they were able to pay for Walt's treatment no problem. This sideways-universe Walt started from the same place -- too proud to take Gretchen and Elliott's charity -- but instead of dealing, he researched gambling methods and came up with a system for counting cards in blackjack. (Marie: "What do you mean, like Rain Man?") He found a statistical edge and exploited it. At first he went to the casinos, but -- and at this she leans in closer, more conspiratorially -- eventually realized those profits were taxable, so he moved on to back rooms and underground games. One time he lost big, pretty much everything he had. Which led to the fugue state/naked supermarket misadventure. "How could you do that to her?" Marie asks Walt. At least some aspects of this alt world remain the same. But the system finally worked. And worked big time.
And in this alternate version of history, Skyler understands why Walt did it. "I don't think I ever really understood what he was going through," she says, of the cancer diagnosis. "It was more than facing death, it was knowing the he was gonna leave behind nothing." "For better or for worse," she says, looking at him, "he wanted to provide."
Walt looks at her both astounded and impressed. Me too (if Anna Gunn gets properly recognized, this could be the Emmy clip). Did she make this up on the spot? My feeling is she's been working on this for a while. A version of events that would make Walt's secrecy and brand new reserves of cash morally okay. A fiction under which Skyler can accept Walt's money and -- much more importantly -- appreciate Walt's protective instincts towards the family.
"We have the money," Skyler tells Marie, then turns to Walt and says, "No more gambling." Does she really believe it when Walt nods? Does it matter when you can just tell a story in which he does? Marie, ever my hero, gets to the point and asks how much money. Walt, gobsmacked, can only say it's in the seven figures. Even Skyler takes a moment to process that. "What can I say? I did very well." says Walt, finally able to --if only mildly -- take some pride in his accomplishments with his family. "You will take our money," Skyler insists. "Use it to take care of Hank."
After Marie agrees, Skyler asks her not to tell Flynn about it. Or Hank. Marie says she needs to process it all and takes off. When she's gone, Walt asks how Skyler came up with all that. Skyler turns and shrugs, "I learned from the best." I like that. She's not letting him entirely off the hook. She goes further: "Something tells me Hank is here because of you. And I'm not forgetting that."
In Walt's defense, neither is he.
Joe R remembers that his first choice for Anna Gunn's Emmy reel is still "I f*cked Ted." He can be reached for lavish praise and nothing but at joseph.reid21@gmail.com.
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