You know, there is a specific kind of nightmare
that, well, I think everyone has had it at least
once. Oh yeah. I know the one. Right. It isn't
the one where you're falling or the one where
you show up to work and you realize you forgot
to wear pants. Thankfully. Yeah, thankfully.
But no, it's the nightmare of just total absolute
powerlessness. You are cornered. The walls are
physically closing in on you. There is literally
a gun pointed at your head and the clock has
just run out. And most people in that scenario,
they freeze. Yeah, they do. It's the classic
fight, flight, or freeze response. And biology
pretty much dictates that when the barrel of
a suppressor is pressed against your forehead,
you freeze. You just surrender to the inevitable.
The brain shuts down the strategic centers and
goes into pure panic mode. Exactly, the logic
centers just check out. But then there are those
rare, terrifying moments in fiction, and I guess
maybe in history too, where someone doesn't freeze,
they don't just panic, they think. They calculate.
Yes, they calculate. of a single desperate breath,
they flip the entire board. It is the ultimate
leverage play. It's like judo, you know, using
the opponent's weight and momentum against them
to just snap their neck. And that brings us to
today. Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we
are not just talking about a television show.
We are dissecting a total master class in narrative
tension, strategic game theory, and psychological
horror. We are looking at full measure the season
three finale of the American crime drama Breaking
Bad. This is a big one. It really is. For anyone
keeping track, it is the 13th episode of the
third season, episode 33 overall. And for the
listener who really follows the industry, the
credits here tell you everything you need to
know before the screen even fades in. It was
written and directed by the show's creator, Vince
Killigan. And that is always a signal, right?
I mean, in TV production, when the creator steps
out of the writer's room and actually gets behind
the camera for a finale, they aren't just making
an episode. They are laying down a thesis statement.
They are saying to you, the audience, this is
exactly how I see this world. 100%. This originally
aired back on June 13th, 2010. It's been well
over a decade now. And our mission today is to
unpack why 15 years later, critics and fans still
point to this specific hour as the pivot point.
The moment the show stopped being a quirkily
dark drama and just fully became a tragedy of
Shakespearean proportions. Yeah, we're going
to look at the character shifts, the visual language,
those incredible strategic chess moves between
Walt and Gus, and of course that ending. The
ending that left fans debating for years. Oh,
the message boards were on fire. They really
were. We have a ton of sources to get through
today. We're looking at contemporary reviews
from the AV Club and IGN, retrospectives from
The Ringer and Vulture, and even some recent
2025 analysis from Metro. We want to give you
the complete picture, but before we get to the
gunfire and the panic, we actually have to start
of all places with a real estate listing. It
is probably the most disarming cold open in the
history of the show. It really is jarring. So
you start the episode and you're bracing for
impact because of how the previous episode, Half
Measures, ended with that explosive violence.
You're expecting a media fallout, sirens, running,
panic. But instead. We are transported back to
1993. The contrast is brilliant. It's insane.
The lighting is completely different. It's warm.
It's golden. It's almost hazy. And we see a much
younger Walter White and a very pregnant Schuyler.
And this scene is vital. I mean, it's not just
filler to pad the runtime. We really need to
look at the visual storytelling here. The makeup
department did an incredible job making Bryan
Cranston look softer, less jagged. He's wearing
this slightly oversized leather jacket. He has
more hair. His posture is entirely different.
He looks, well, he looks hopeful. He looks like
a man who hasn't been beaten down by the world
yet. They are touring a house with a realtor.
And if you're a fan watching this, you recognize
the hallway immediately. Oh yeah, instantly.
It's the White Residence. It's the house we've
spent three seasons in. But it's completely empty.
It's a blank canvas for them. And this is where
we get the core psychological insight of the
entire series, honestly hidden in what feels
like a throwaway line. Walt is walking through
this perfectly adequate three -bedroom home.
It has a pool. It's in a decent neighborhood.
And he's hesitant. But not for the reasons you'd
think. Right. Not because it's too expensive
or because he's worried about making the mortgage
payments. He's hesitant because he thinks it's
not enough. He literally calls it a starter house.
That phrase is doing so much heavy lifting. Starter
house. You have to remember, in 1993, Walter
White is working at the prestigious Sandia Laboratory.
He is a crystallized genius. He thinks he is
on the direct trajectory to be a billionaire,
a Nobel laureate, an absolute titan of industry.
He genuinely sees this house as a temporary station
on his way to a mansion. He worries they aren't
setting their sights high enough. It's honestly
heartbreaking when you contrast it with the present
timeline, because we know as the audience watching
that he never leaves this house, this so -called
starter house, becomes his cave. His prison.
Exactly. It becomes the place where he hides
drug money in the air vents, where he lies to
his wife every single day, and where he essentially
rots away from cancer. It perfectly explores
the theme of ambition. But really, it's hubris
in the classical Greek sense, that deeply ingrained
belief that I am destined for more than this.
That is exactly what creates Heisenberg. In 1993,
that ambition looks like optimism. It looks like
the classic American dream. But in the present
timeline, that same ambition has just curdled
into this toxic resentment. He feels the world
owes him. He feels cheated out of his destiny.
So when we look at the title of the episode,
Full Measure, it's not just about the violence
he commits later on. It's about the full measure
of his disappointment. He wanted a palace. He
got a starter house. And now, in the present,
he's willing to burn the entire world down to
reclaim that sense of importance. It completely
establishes the stakes for what's about to happen.
He isn't fighting for survival. Well, he is.
But fundamentally, he is fighting for his ego.
He is fighting to prove that 1993 Walt was right
about his own potential. That's a really great
way to frame it. And the transition from that
flashback to the present is it gives you whiplash.
We go from warm, sunny, hopeful 1993 to the cold,
harsh, high contrast look of the present day.
And the situation is dire. Actually, dire is
an understatement. Jesse Pickman is on the run.
The events of half measures have just blown everything
up. Jesse went after Gus Fring's dealers to avenge
a child. Walt intervened to save Jesse. And now
they have dead bodies in the street. The truce
is broken. The false peace they had is over.
So Walt has to go directly into the lion's den
to fix it. He drives out to the desert. And the
cinematography here is so bleak. It's desolate.
The wind is just howling. And he sits down with
Gus Fring and Mike Ehrmantraut. This scene is
a master class in corporate negotiation, weirdly
enough. It's literal life or death. But they
speak in these hushed, calm, professional tones.
Gus Fring is the ultimate corporate psychopath.
I mean, he doesn't yell. He doesn't slam his
fists or threaten Walt with a knife on the table.
He just sits there in his impeccable suit, adjusting
his glasses. Walt is desperately trying to leverage
his value as a master chemist to buy Jesse's
safety. He's playing an incredibly weak hand,
but he's bluffing hard. He essentially says,
I know Jesse made a mistake, but let me cook.
Just let me return to the lab. And we forget
this ever happened. And surprisingly, Gus agrees.
He exceeds, yes. But Gus Fring never makes a
deal without a contingency. If you watch the
way Giancarlo Esposito, who plays Gus, delivers
the line, it's brilliant. He agrees to Walt's
terms, but he adds a very significant caveat.
He politely informs Walt that he, Gus, will be
the one choosing Jesse's replacement in the lab.
And that is a massive red flag. You don't let
the boss pick your assistant if you want job
security. The illusion of choice is so powerful
here. Walt thinks he won the negotiation because
he got a yes for an answer, but he actually just
signed his own death warrant. Because the assistant
guest chooses isn't just some random grunt off
the street. It is the one person in the world
who can actually replicate Walt's work. It's
Gail Boetticher. Gail. The coffee making, eager
to please, karaoke singing chemist, he's back.
And let's talk about Gale for a second, because
he is such a fascinating character in this incredibly
dark universe. He is almost the mirror image
of Walt, but without any of the ego. Precisely.
Gale is a libertarian, a lever of obscure coffee
brewing methods, a truly gentle soul. He loves
the chemistry purely for the chemistry sake.
He doesn't want to build an empire. He just wants
to cook the best product possible and be praised
for it. When Walt walks into the lab and sees
Gale has been reinstated, the entire cinematography
shifts again. The lab suddenly feels incredibly
claustrophobic. Because they aren't alone anymore.
Victor Guss' terrifying silent henchman is now
just standing there watching them. It's the panopticon
effect. They are being observed every single
second. It signals the total erosion of trust.
Gus is no longer treating Walt like a partner.
He's treating him like a captive asset and while
Walt is trying to make nice with Gale You know
awkwardly asking him about his recertification
trying to keep things perfectly professional
Gus is making massive moves in the shadows There
is a scene that follows this, which I think is
one of the most chilling, quiet moments in the
series. Gus visits Gail's apartment that evening.
Oh man, this scene gives me the creeps every
time. The way Gus switches from intimidating
drug lord to polite neighborly guest is terrifying.
He sits on Gail's couch, politely declining tea,
and he tells a flat -out lie. He informs Gail
that Walt's cancer has returned. It is a brilliant
display of soft power manipulation. He frames
it to Gale as a necessary contingency plan. He
says, Gale, you need to learn the formula perfectly
because Walt might pass away. We need to be prepared
for the worst case scenario. But the subtext,
and Gale is smart enough to almost hear it, even
if his gentle nature doesn't want to believe
it, the subtext is, once you know the formula,
Walt will die. It is planned obsolescence. Walt
is the old buggy model. Gale is the software
upgrade. He's more compliant, he has less ego,
but he yields the exact same quality product.
Once the data transfer from Walt to Gale is complete,
you toss the old model in the trash. Gus is preparing
to dispose of Walt. He needs Walt only as long
as Walt is the sole possessor of that blue meth
formula. So the clock is officially ticking.
And Walt isn't stupid. He can sense the walls
closing in on him. He notices Gail asking one
too many specific questions about the temperature
gauges, the reaction times. He realizes he is
actively being cloned. But meanwhile, there's
still the massive issue of Jesse. Mike, who is
just the ultimate professional hitman, is on
the hunt for him. And Mike goes to the one person
in Albuquerque who might actually know where
Jesse's hiding. Saul Goodman. I love the interactions
between Mike and Saul in this episode. It is
a total collision of genres. Mike is walking
around in a gritty 1970s noir film and Saul is
acting in a legal first. It's the unstoppable
force meeting the incredibly slippery object.
Saul initially refuses to cooperate. Naturally,
he's claiming attorney -client privilege, quoting
the law the whole nine yards. But Mike isn't
a lawyer. He's a cleaner. He doesn't care about
the Bar Association. He physically threatened
Saul. He grabs him, gets right in his face. And
we see that Saul, for all his bravado and his
commercial slickness, is absolutely not a man
of violence. He folds immediately, but he does
it in a very specific, soul way. Right. He lets
Mike take a peek at a notebook. It's that desperate
grasp for plausible deniability. I didn't tell
you anything, you just happened to see my private
notes. Exactly. But the notebook contains an
address for a trailer park in Virginia. Which
is a fake address, of course. It's a stalling
tactic to buy Jesse some time. So Mike is off
on a wild goose chase to Virginia. Meanwhile,
the real location where Jesse is hiding is much
more local, and honestly much more ridiculous.
It fits the show's dark, ironic humor so perfectly.
Yeah. Walt and Saul eventually go to meet with
Jesse, and he is hiding out in a local laser
tag arcade. Laser base. Of all the places in
the world to plan a brutal murder, they're doing
it amidst neon lights, fog machines, and cheap
plastic barricades. It really highlights the
absurdity of Jesse's situation. He's essentially
a child playing in a man's game, literally hiding
in a child's playground. The visual contrast
in that scene is stark. You have Walt in his
drab, beige dad clothes, Saul in his cheap flashy
suit, and Jesse in this oversized hoodie, just
surrounded by glowing black lights. But the conversation
they have in that arcade is deadly serious. This
is the strategic dilemma of the episode. Walt
lays it out for Jesse plainly. He explains the
grim reality. He says, Gail is learning my cook.
Once he is confident that he can do it alone,
you and I are going to be disposed of. Walt correctly
identifies the exact fulcrum of Gus's plan. Gail
is the variable. As long as Gail cannot cook
the blue meth to standard, Walt is essential.
If Gail learns it, Walt becomes entirely expendable.
And if Walt is dead, Jesse is a loose end that
Gus will definitely tie up. So standing in the
neon glow, they come to a brutal, horrifying
conclusion. The only way for them to survive
is to kill Gail. It is a purely utilitarian calculation
for Walt. It's him or us, simple math. But for
Jesse, this is a massive moral precipice. They
debate it right there in the arcade. Jesse pushes
back incredibly hard. He says, I am not a murderer.
And you really feel for him here. You empathize
with him. He's a low -level drug dealer, sure.
He's an addict, yes. But cold -blooded assassination
of a quirky civilian chemist? That's not who
Jesse Pinkman is. And this is where Walt takes
a step up or perhaps a massive step down into
the darkness. He looks at Jesse and realizes
the kid just won't do it. So Walt, in a moment
of what you might call supreme arrogance or maybe
just supreme desperation, says, fine, I'll do
it. Your only job is to find Gail's address.
Walt deciding to pull the trigger himself is
a huge character shift. It shows he's finally
willing to physically stain his own hands to
protect his life and his position. So the plan
is locked in. Jessie calls Walt later that evening
and gives him the address. Walt is ready to go
do the deed. He's got his hat on. He's got his
gun tucked away. He's literally walking out the
front door and then the trap springs. This is
the sequence that just elevates the entire season.
As Walt leaves his house to go kill Gail, Victor
suddenly intercepts him in the driveway. Victor
rolls up in his car and claims there is a chemical
leak at the lab. He says, come with me, big emergency.
It is such a flimsy, obvious lie. Walt absolutely
knows it's a lie. You can see the realization
wash over his face. He hesitates. But what are
his options? He is forced to comply. If he runs,
Victor will shoot him right there in the driveway,
potentially in front of his wife and son. If
he goes, maybe, just maybe, he can talk his way
out of it. He thinks he can outsmart them. So
he gets in the car. And it is a slow, agonizing
ride to the execution chamber. They arrive at
the industrial laundromat, which is the front
for the super lab. They walk in, and who is waiting
there in the shadows? Mike. Seeing Mike confirms
everything Walt feared. There is no chemical
leak. This is a sanctioned execution. And this
brings us back to that terrifying hook we started
the show with. We are now in the scene that defines
the entire episode. Walt is forced to his knees.
Mike and Victor towering over him. And this is
the moment where Walt completely breaks. He starts
begging for his life. It's a pathetic display,
intentionally so. He's crying. His voice is cracking.
He offers to give up Jesse to save himself. He
literally says, I'll give you Pinkman. Now you
have to wonder here, is this an act or is he
improvising out of sheer panic? Because right
in the middle of this humiliating begging, he's
planting a strategic seed. It's a high stakes
gamble born of pure adrenaline. He is appealing
directly to Mike's sense of professionalism.
He knows Mike wants to clean up all the loose
ends. And Jesse is the biggest loose end out
there. So Mike pauses. The gun lowers just a
fraction. He demands Jesse's location. And Walt
says, I need to call him. He won't come out unless
I call him. He's paranoid. Mike, being the pragmatic
guy he is, calculates the risk and allows the
phone call. He hands Walt the cell phone. And
this, this right here is the pivot point of the
entire season. It is the moment he takes the
full measure. Jesse answers the phone. He's expecting
a status update. He thinks Walt is calling to
say the job is done. He asks, did you do it?
But instead, Walt screams at him. And I mean,
he screams with everything he has. Jesse, do
it. You have to do it now. The confusion on Jesse's
face is palpable. Yeah. And if you watch Mike's
face in this scene, Jonathan Banks, the actor,
does this incredibly subtle shift. He goes from
being a bored, routine executioner to a state
of sudden, chilling realization. He realizes
he has made a critical, fatal error. Walt yells
into the phone, I'm about to be killed, kill
Gail. And then he loudly quotes Gail's address
so Mike and Victor can hear it. 6353 Juan Tabo,
apartment six. In that split second, the power
dynamic in that dingy laundromat shifts 180 degrees.
Mike and Victor realize they have been completely
outmaneuvered. Walt has just given a remote order
to kill the only other person on the planet who
can cook the product. Because if Gale dies, they
simply cannot kill Walt. He becomes the only
asset left to Gus Fring, its absolute checkmate.
The scramble that ensues is so chaotic, Victor
rushes out the door to try and race to Gale's
apartment and stop it. Mike stays with Walt,
pointing the gun at his head, visibly furious.
And Walt, he slowly stands up, he straightens
his jacket, the tears are gone, and he delivers
that iconic line, you might want to hold off.
Your boss is going to need me. It gives you goosebumps.
He goes from weeping on the floor to swaggering
in the span of 10 seconds. It's the total return
of Heisenberg. But while Walt has brilliantly
saved his own skin, he has just entirely damned
Jesse because now Jesse, the kid who explicitly
said, I'm not a murderer, is the only one who
can pull the trigger. We cut across town to Gail's
apartment. And the editing here is crucial to
building the tension. We see Gale in this element.
He's listening to music, some obscure, quirky
foreign jazz. He's boiling water, making tea,
watering his plants. He's completely innocent.
He's happy. And meanwhile, Mike is frantically
calling him to warn him. We see Gale's phone
buzzing on the kitchen counter, but the jazz
music is just a little too loud. The water is
bubbling. He doesn't hear it. It's that classic
thriller trope, but it works so incredibly well
here. You want to reach through the screen and
turn down the stereo. You're screaming, pick
up the phone, Gale. He is entirely oblivious
to his impending doom. It creates this agonizing,
stretching tension for the viewer. And then the
doorbell rings. Jesse has arrived. This is the
climax. We are at the ending. Jesse stands at
Gail's door. Gail opens it smiling, probably
expecting a neighbor or a late night delivery.
And Jesse just pulls a gun on him. The acting
here from both Aaron Paul and David Casabila
is just devastating. Gail realizes instantly
what is happening. The confusion melts into terror.
He backs away. He begs for his life. He offers
money. He offers to leave town. He says, you
don't have to do this. And Jesse. Jesse is an
absolute wreck. He's crying. He's visibly shaking.
The gun is wavering in his hand. This isn't some
cool action hero moment where the protagonist
dispatches the bad guy with a one -liner. This
is a broken kid who's about to permanently destroy
his own soul. It connects right back to the conversation
of the Laser Tag Arcade. I am not a murderer,
but Walt has forced his hand. To save Mr. White,
Jesse has to become the very thing he hates.
The camera work here makes a very specific choice.
The camera shifts and suddenly we are looking
directly down the barrel of Jesse's gun. He is
aiming right at the lens, right at us, the audience.
That fourth wall break is hugely significant.
By having Jesse point the gun at the viewer,
the director is implicating the audience in the
violence. We have been sitting on our couches
rooting for Walt and Jesse to survive for three
entire seasons Well, this is what survival actually
looks like in this world Are we still rooting
for it? And then the screen goes completely black
just as the gunshot rings out and that is exactly
how the season ends BAM cut to black roll credits.
It was incredibly controversial at the time I
remember it clearly because Gail's death is not
Visibly shown on screen in that exact moment
you hear the shot, but you don't see the impact,
right? The message boards were lighting up immediately.
People were saying he missed or he moved the
gun at the last second. He shot the wall to fake
it. People could not accept that Jesse Pinkman.
actually pulled the trigger on an innocent man.
They wanted a loophole so badly. There was wide
speculation for almost a year until season four
premiered, but Vince Gilligan, the creator, later
clarified this in interviews. He stated firmly
that he never intended it to be a cheap cliffhanger
in the did he or didn't he sense. He believed
the scene and specifically Aaron Paul's performance
clearly conveyed that Gale had died. He thought
the absolute despair on Jesse's face before the
cut told the whole story. But as we know, fans
are always looking for a way out for the characters
they love. And from an actor's perspective, it's
fascinating too. David Costabile, who played
Gail, had a very poignant reaction to the whole
thing. He stated that he didn't initially know
his character was going to be killed off when
he signed on. Oh wow, he didn't know. No, he
had no idea. He found out about halfway through
shooting the season, he said... It was quite
a sadness when I was informed that my doom was
imminent. But he acknowledged a very profound
dramatic truth about storytelling. He said, sometimes
one has to be sacrificed. Sometimes one has to
be sacrificed. That is, that's incredibly heavy.
Gore Gale, he was just a weird guy who loved
pure chemistry and singing karaoke. He really
didn't deserve that end. But in the world of
Breaking Bad, innocence is rarely a shield. It's
usually a target. So let's zoom out and talk
about how this episode actually landed with the
public. I mean, obviously, we are still analyzing
it deeply years later. But at the time it aired,
was it a hit? Oh, absolutely. Upon its initial
airing, it drew 1 .56 million American viewers.
For a cable television show in 2010, that is
a very solid number. But the critical acclaim
is where this episode really etched its name
in history. We have to talk about Bryan Cranston.
I mean, the man is a legend for a reason. He
truly is. He won his third consecutive prize
Time Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actor in
a Drama Series, specifically for this episode.
Three Emmys in a row. That is just absolute domination
of the category. And reading the reviews from
the time, it seems like the television critics
completely agreed with the Academy. They were
blown away. Tim Goodman of the San Francisco
Chronicle wrote a glowing review. He called the
episode an exclamation mark on the torture journey
of Jesse. And that's such a great way to put
it. This entire third season was an emotional
torture act for Jesse. And this final scene...
was the breaking point. Donna Bowman over at
the A .V. Club went even further with her praise.
She stated that this episode cements the season
as one of television's finest dramatic accomplishments.
That is incredibly high praise from a tough critic.
Seth Amaitan at IGN gave it a 9 out of 10, specifically
praising the immense depth of the players and
the intricate plotting. And looking at more recent
retrospectives, the praise hasn't faded one bit.
In 2019, The Ringer ranked full measure as the
second best episode of the entire series. Out
of 62 total episodes, second best. That is incredibly
impressive. I know Vulture also ranked it very
high, coming in at 17th overall on their list.
And interestingly, just recently in 2025, Milo
Pope from Metro wrote an article reflecting on
the show. He called the ending the greatest cliffhanger
in TV history. In 2025. Wow. So people are still
writing articles about this specific cliffhanger
15 years after it aired. Pope went on to say
it can rip out your heart and dump it right in
front of you, which honestly feels like a very
accurate description of watching that final minute.
It really does. And I think a huge part of that
lasting impact is what it does to the characters.
Fundamentally, we talked a lot about Jesse's
trauma. But what about Walt? That's a great point.
Critic Amanda Harding noted that the ending of
full measure. moves Walter completely further
into his darker persona, Heisenberg. You think
back to season one. This is a man who couldn't
bring himself to kill a wildly dangerous drug
dealer in his basement without making a literal
pros and cons list on a piece of paper. Now,
a year later, he's ordering a hit on a harmless
chemist over the phone without a second of hesitation.
It really is the definitive death of Walter White
the family man and the full undeniable birth
of Heisenberg the kingpin. And for Jesse, as
the critics noted, this is the ultimate turning
point in his relationship with Walt. He's no
longer just a junior partner or a student. He
is a tool, a weapon that Walt points and fires
to save himself. It raises such an incredibly
interesting question about loyalty and manipulation.
Jesse does this horrific thing to save Walt's
life. But in doing so, he completely destroys
his own sense of self. Precisely. Walt exploits
Jesse's loyalty. So what does this all mean for
us as viewers? We've got the 1993 flashback,
the corporate chess game in the desert, the laser
tag moral debate, the laundromat trap, and finally
the gunshot. If we try to summarize the journey
of this hour. We're watching the total irreversible
disintegration of the starter house dream. The
ambitious young man who wanted a big house and
three kids in 1993 is gone forever. In his place
is a man who will burn the world down just to
stay in control of his small empire. And the
title itself full measure. It refers back to
a really famous speech Mike gave to Walt in the
previous episode, doesn't it, about taking no
half measures? Yes, it does. Mike warned Walt
against taking half measures. He's told this
harrowing story from his days as a beat cop about
a domestic abuser he spared. He took a half measure
by just threatening the guy instead of locking
him up. And that guy then went on to beat his
wife to death. Mike's entire point to Walt was,
if you're going to solve a problem, you have
to solve it completely. No half measures. And
in this episode, Walt finally takes the full
measure. He takes the extreme action that can
never. ever be undone. He crosses the moral line
completely. It absolutely traps all of them.
After this trigger is pulled, there is no going
back to Gus Fring and pretending everything is
fine. There is no going back to the safety of
the lab. They are at war now. They have burned
the bridge while they are still standing in the
middle of it. They are now in open bloody conflict
with one of the most dangerous calculated men
in the American Southwest. And it leaves you
with that final haunting image, Jesse Pinkman,
the kid who loved eating Funyuns and drawing
cartoons and saying, yo. Holding a gun, tears
streaming from his eyes, killing a man he barely
even knows. It is the defining tragedy of the
entire series. It's the exact moment you realize
that there is no happy ending coming for any
of these people. They are all doomed. It really
makes you wonder, though, if Jesse had just said
no in that final second, if he had dropped the
gun and refused, would Walt have died? Maybe,
probably. But would Jesse have saved his own
soul? That is the big question the show leaves
us to wrestle with. Is physical survival worth
the cost of your humanity? In the universe of
Breaking Bad, the answer is usually a resounding
no. But there is one final thought I want to
leave you with, something that goes beyond just
Walt and Jesse's choices. Think about the mechanics
of that final scene. The fourth wall break. Jesse
pointing the gun at the camera. Right, directly
at the viewer. We spent three seasons wanting
Walt to win. We wanted him to outsmart Gus. We
wanted him to survive the laundromat. And because
we demanded his survival as an audience, Gale
had to die. In a very real, meta way, by rooting
for Heisenberg, we pulled the trigger right alongside
Jesse. Our desire for entertainment demanded
that full measure. Oh, wow. That is a brilliant
way to look at it. We are entirely complicit
in Gail's death. We cheered when Walt gave the
address over the phone. Exactly, we cheered for
a hitman. Well, on that cheerful, deeply existential
note, we are going to wrap up this deep dive
into full measure. It is heavy, it is dark, but
man, it is just a perfect piece of television.
Absolute storytelling perfection from Vince Gilligan
and the entire crew. Thanks for joining us as
we unpacked it all. Keep analyzing the media
you love, and we'll catch you on the next deep
dive.