Richard Roeper
Jan 26, 2026
When "Breaking Bad" premiered in 2008, few could have predicted it would become one of the defining television dramas of the 21st century. Creator Vince Gilligan's transformation of Walter White from mild-mannered chemistry teacher to ruthless drug kingpin remains a masterclass in character development and moral decay.
Bryan Cranston delivers a career-defining performance, peeling back layers of Walter's psyche episode by episode. What begins as a desperate man's attempt to provide for his family after a terminal cancer diagnosis gradually reveals a monster who was always lurking beneath the surface. The genius of the show is that it never lets us forget both versions of Walter exist simultaneously.
Aaron Paul's Jesse Pinkman serves as the show's unlikely moral compass, and his evolution from small-time dealer to broken soul searching for redemption provides some of the series' most affecting moments. The chemistry between Cranston and Paul is explosive, their relationship oscillating between father-son dynamic and toxic partnership.
Gilligan and his writers demonstrate remarkable patience, allowing tension to build organically over entire seasons. The show rewards careful viewing, with visual motifs and foreshadowing that become apparent only in retrospect. Cinematographer Michael Slovis transforms the New Mexico landscape into a character itself—beautiful, harsh, and unforgiving.
The final season stands as a testament to how to conclude a long-running series. Every thread finds resolution, every character gets their due, and the inevitability of Walter's fate feels both surprising and entirely earned.
"Breaking Bad" isn't just great television—it's a cautionary tale about the American Dream's dark underbelly, a meditation on mortality and legacy, and proof that episodic storytelling can achieve the same heights as cinema's greatest achievements.