Okay, so picture this. You are standing at a
party. The weather is absolutely perfect. Oh
yeah, you're standing by a pool at a gorgeous
estate in Mexico. Exactly. And the host of this
party is a powerful, very charming man. He smiles
at you, raises a glass of some incredibly expensive
tequila, looks you right in the eye, and says,
Salud to your health. Which is, you know, it's
the universal gesture of friendship. It's a moment
of peace, of celebration. It is literally what
you say at weddings or birthdays. Right, but
in the world we are diving into today, that toast
is not a blessing. It is a weapon. It's a death
sentence wrapped up in a smile. It creates such
a jarring disconnect when you really think about
it. The title of the source material we are analyzing
today is Salute. It literally translates to health.
And yet... And yet this is arguably one of the
deadliest, most toxic hours of drama we have
ever seen on television. It is a toast that leads
directly to a mass casualty event. It really
is. So today, we are going deep. And I mean really
deep into the tenth episode of the fourth season
of Breaking Bad. The source material we have
gathered includes the original script notes,
critical reviews, and a very detailed plot breakdown
of this specific episode, Sullude. And just to
set the stage for you, this originally aired
on September 18th, 2011. It was directed by Michelle
McLaren, with the writing credited to Peter Gould
and Jennifer Hutchison. Plus, we have some incredible
guest appearances by Stephen Bauer as Don Aladio
and Christopher Cousins playing Dead Benachy.
I want to pause on Michelle McLaren for a second
because looking at her track record, she usually
handles the really high octane kinetic stuff.
Oh, absolutely. She has a very specific visual
style. She is known for high tension, wide sweeping
landscapes, and action that somehow feels claustrophobic,
even when it is shot entirely outdoors. Which
is so crucial here because this deep dive covers
three massive distinct storylines that are all
hurtling toward collision at the exact same time.
This is not just one plot. We have Jesse Pinkman
down in Mexico, basically taking his final exam
in meth, cooking under the absolute threat of
death. Right. Then we have Walter White back
in Albuquerque, who is completely spiraling out
of control in a way that is just painful to witness.
And finally, we have the man. the terrifying
legend himself, Gus Fring, executing a revenge
plan that has been decades in the making. And
what is so fascinating about the source material
here is how the writers balance those three threads.
You get the white knuckle thriller aspect of
the cartel plot, the crushing emotional depression
of the White household, and that unbearable suspense
at the pool party. It's a lot of ground to cover.
And frankly, the material suggests this is a
major pivot point for the entire series. So here
is our mission for today. We are going to break
it down piece by piece. We are going to travel
to the meth labs of Mexico. We'll sit on that
highly uncomfortable couch with Walt and his
son. And yes, we are absolutely going to that
deadly poolside party at Don Eladio's estate.
So grab your drink. Though maybe check the seal
on the bottle first and let's get into it. I
want to start with Jesse Pink, then. Because
if you look at the trajectory of the show up
to this point, for a long time, Jesse was, well,
he was just the junkie sidekick. You know, the
Captain Cook who put chili powder in his meth.
Exactly. But here, in this deep dive, he is stepping
into a completely different, much more competent
role. He really is. And context is key here for
you to understand the stakes. Jesse, Mike Ermentraut,
and Gus Fring have traveled down to Mexico. The
objective is simple on paper, but incredibly
dangerous in practice. They are there to teach
the cartel how to cook the blue meth. Which is
Walter's signature formula. Correct. They need
to prove to the cartel that they can hit a purity
level exceeding 90 percent. The cartel has been
demanding this for a while. They want the blue
product, but they need to own the process themselves.
But there is a massive problem almost immediately
upon arrival. They walk in and meet the cartel's
chief chemist. He is this highly educated, arrogant
guy standing there in a pristine white lab coat.
And he takes one look at Jesse, who is dressed
in his usual baggy street level clothes. Yeah.
And the chemist basically lasts right in his
face. It is a classic clash of formal credentials
versus street capability. The cartel chemist
just sees a kid. Right. So he starts grilling
Jesse on the actual science. He is asking him
about the specific reduction method. He is asking
him to identify the precursors. He wants Jesse
to explain the molecular chirality or the stoichiometry
in a strictly academic sense. Jesse just can't
do that. He barely passed high school chemistry,
if he even passed at all. To this cartel chemist,
Jesse is an absolute joke. He is dirt. Exactly.
The chemist actually assumes Gus is insulting
them by bringing this infant as he sees him to
teach them. He says something to the effect of,
I speak English, but I do not speak this. He
views Jesse as entirely beneath him in every
possible way. I love this set up so much because
it puts Jesse in the ultimate underdog position.
He is in a foreign country completely surrounded
by cartel soldiers who would happily kill him.
And the guy in charge of the lab thinks he is
an absolute idiot. But this is where the dynamic
really shifts. Right. Because Jesse isn't just
an underdog here. He is actually the only person
in that room who knows how to make the specific
product they are demanding. That is the critical
distinction we need to make. Jesse possesses
the tacit knowledge. He doesn't know the theory
at all, but he knows the practice inside and
out. And this is where his character growth really
shines through. Yeah, in the past, he might have
just crumbled under that pressure. Or he might
have just gotten high to cope with the stress.
But here he gets angry. And it is a very focused,
productive anger. He stops trying to be a scientist,
and he just starts being a chef. He takes total
charge of the room. He really channels Heisenberg
in this moment. He realizes he cannot out -talk
this chemist on a theoretical level, so he has
to outperform him. He starts bossing the cartel
guys around. Which is incredibly bold. It is.
He complains about the filth in the lab. He demands
that they clean every single piece of equipment.
He effectively bullies the cartel chemist into
submission, not with academic logic, but with
pure, unadulterated confidence. And then he actually
cooks. The source material describes the montage
of him working, and it's interesting because
usually the cooking scenes are all about precision
and quiet focus. But here, the energy feels really
aggressive. It is very aggressive. Yeah. And
we have to talk about the chemistry for just
a second to really understand why this is so
impressive. The cartel... up to this point has
been cooking what we call biker meth. Right.
Which is likely a pseudoephedrine reduction that
is dirty and yields a very low purity. But Jesse
is using the phenolicic acid method. Oh, right.
The stuff they steal from those barrels with
the B logo. Exactly. This is a reductive amination
of phenolastone. It is a significantly more complex
synthesis than the old shake and bake method.
It requires precise temperature control, very
specific ratios. If you mess it up, you don't
just get slightly bad meth. You get sludge. You
get nothing. So the pressure is entirely on him.
Everyone is watching him like a hawk. He finishes
the batch. They run it through the gas chromatograph
to test it. And what is the final result? 96
.2%. 96 .2. I mean, that is a staggering number,
isn't it? It is practically miraculous. You have
to remember, Walter White hits 99 .1%. Yeah.
But Walter is working in a multi -million dollar,
perfectly sterile, climate -controlled super
lab. Yeah. Jesse is working in a dusty open -air
shed in Mexico, dealing with humidity, dirt,
and equipment that probably hasn't been properly
calibrated in years. To hit 96 .2 % of those
adverse conditions, it definitively proves he
is a master cook. And what is the reaction in
the room when that number pops up? Absolute silence.
The numbers validate everything he just did.
It shuts the arrogant chemist up immediately.
The power dynamic in that room shifts in a split
second from heavy skepticism to absolute awe.
The cartel doesn't care about his lack of a college
degree anymore. They only care that he can deliver
the superior product. It's such a massive fist
pump moment. You are really rooting for him.
He proved the snobby scientist wrong. But, and
this is a big but, here is where it gets really
interesting and frankly kind of terrifying for
him. Because success in this specific world is
a trap. Exactly. This touches on a recurring
theme in the source material. Competency is dangerous.
Because Jesse is so incredibly good, because
he proved he can hit 96 % purity, he has now
made himself completely indispensable to a very
violent organization. The cartel tells him point
blank, you belong to us now. Just imagine the
sheer horror of that realization. You think you
are just passing a high -stress test so you can
survive the day and go home, but by passing the
test so perfectly, you've actually sealed your
fate as a permanent prisoner. Jesse realizes
he is not getting on a plane back to Albuquerque.
He is a high -value asset, which essentially
means he is a slave. And Mike, who is usually
the guy delivering the cold hard truths, actually
steps in to comfort him here. He promises Jesse
that he is going to get him out of there. That
relationship between Mike and Jesse is so crucial
to this season. It really is. Mike clearly sees
something in Jesse, maybe a surrogate son figure
or maybe just wasted potential that he actually
wants to save. But that specific promise from
Mike sets up the core tension for the rest of
this deep dive. How on earth are they going to
escape a heavily fortified cartel compound deep
in Mexico when the cartel just decided Jesse
is their brand new golden goose? OK, so while
Jesse is having this terrifying, life -altering
triumph in the bright yellow sun of Mexico, the
narrative cuts back to Albuquerque, and the contrast
there could not be starker. It's night and day,
literally. The visual language of the show violently
shifts from the oversaturated hot yellows of
Mexico to the dark, moody, shadowy interiors
of the White household. We find Walt dealing
with the massive fallout of a brutal physical
fight he had with Jesse the night before. He
is battered. He is heavily bruised. And because
of all this, he completely misses a major family
milestone. His son's birthday, Walt Junior's
16th birthday. Man, that is just the cardinal
sin of parenting. You do not miss the sweet 16,
especially not for Walt Junior. And it isn't
just the fact that he missed it that so bad.
It's the state he's currently in. Walt Junior
actually comes over to Walt's condo to check
on him because he didn't show up for the party.
And what does he find? A total mess. Exactly.
His father is bloodied up, he is deeply confused,
and he is clearly under the heavy influence of
painkillers and alcohol. And sticking to his
usual toxic pattern, Walt immediately lies to
his kid. He blames his injuries on gambling.
Ah, the gambling lie. It has become his go -to
narrative to explain away all the danger, the
erratic behavior, the sudden influxes of cash.
But at this point in the story, that excuse is
wearing incredibly thin. There is this truly
heartbreaking scene where Walt Jr. is physically
helping his dad into bed. Walt is completely
loopy. He's crying. He's apologizing over and
over. It's honestly pathetic to watch. But then,
he asks about the birthday. He's trying so hard
to connect, he wants to know what kind of car
his son got. And then comes the slip. The Freudian
slip to end all Freudian slips. He calls his
son Jesse. We really need to pause on that. Yeah.
Because that moment is utterly devastating. It
is a total gut punch. He is looking right at
his own flesh and blood, his actual son who is
tenderly helping him into bed, and he calls him
by the name of his meth cooking partner. Why
does he do that? It strips away all the lies
and reveals exactly where Walt's head and heart
truly are at this point. He is entirely consumed
by the criminal wife. But more specifically,
he's consumed by his relationship with Jesse,
which is such a mess of a relationship. It's
a deeply complex mix of genuine fatherly affection.
intense manipulation and petty professional jealousy.
In his drugged, completely uninhibited state,
the filter just drops away. The person he instinctively
calls out for, the son he is actually focused
on right now, isn't Junior, it is Jesse. Does
Walt Junior realize what just happened in that
moment? He clearly hears the name, he looks confused,
he probably rationalizes it as just nonsense
talk brought on by the painkillers. But on a
deeper emotional level, he absolutely feels the
distance, he feels the reality that his dad isn't
really there with him. And the next morning,
oh man, the next morning might actually be even
worse than the night before. The morning after
is where the real tragedy of Walter White sets
in. He wakes up. He sees Junior sleeping on the
couch, having stayed to watch over him. Walt
is sober now. And the Heisenberg mask immediately
goes back on. He starts doing rapid damage control.
He starts spinning the narrative again. He apologizes
for being so out of it the night before. He says
something to the effect of I don't want you to
remember me that way. He desperately wants to
be remembered as the strong, capable provider
father. He wants the Heisenberg image, but tailored
for his family's consumption. Exactly. But Walt
Jr.'s response is arguably the most cutting line
in the entire episode. He looks right at his
dad and tells him that he would actually rather
remember him this way. That line just killed
me. Why? Why on earth would a teenage son want
to remember his dad as a weeping, drugged up
mess sitting in his underwear? Because it was
real. For the entire past year, Wolfe has been
distant. He's been angry, secretive and highly
manipulative. Everything he presents to his family
has been a carefully constructed lie. So seeing
him vulnerable, seeing him genuinely cry and
apologize to Junior, that felt like the very
first honest moment they have shared in ages.
He vastly prefers a broken, honest father to
a fake. Strong one. That is profound. And it
just perfectly highlights how far Walt has actually
fallen. He thinks he's protecting his grand image,
but his image is already entirely destroyed.
He is fighting tooth and nail to save a reputation
that simply doesn't exist anymore inside his
own house. Meanwhile, speaking of destroyed images
and desperate attempts to fix things, we absolutely
have to talk about Skylar White's storyline here.
Oh, right. Skylar White. Because while Walt is
crying in bed and Jessie is cooking meth down
in Mexico, she is running a highly stressful
operation of her own back home. She is playing
complex. financial chess, but she is playing
it with pieces that refuse to move the way she
wants them to. Specifically, Ted Benaki. So let's
clarify the stakes here for you. The core issue
is the money. They have way too much illicit
cash from the meth business. And the IRS is currently
circling Ted Benaki, who is her former boss and,
well, her former fling. The immense danger here
is the paper trail. If Ted actually gets audited
by the IRS, they're going to look at his company's
books. very deeply. And Skyler is the one who
cooked those books for him. If they look at the
books, they will undoubtedly find Skyler's fraud.
If they find Skyler's fraud, they will start
investigating her personal finances. And if they
investigate her finances, they find Walt, they
find the car wash, and they find the entire meth
empire. The dominoes will just rapidly fall.
So to stop that from happening, she comes up
with a scheme. She convinces Saul Goodman, the
shady lawyer we all know and love, to transfer
$620 ,000 directly to Ted. Which is just an astronomical
amount of cash to hand over. It is. And the elaborate
cover story Saul pitches is that it's an unexpected
inheritance from some distant relative. Great
Aunt Birgit, right? Yes. Aunt Birgit from Luxembourg.
It is a classic money laundering move known in
financial forensics as layering. You create a
completely legitimate looking source for illegitimate
funds. The goal here is simple. Ted takes the
inheritance money, he pays the IRS exactly what
he owes them in back taxes and fines, the audit
goes away forever, and the white family remains
safe from federal scrutiny. Sounds foolproof,
right? It makes total logical sense. Here is
literally hundreds of thousands of dollars in
free money to save you from going to federal
prison. But this is Ted Benaki we are talking
about. Right. This is exactly where human unpredictability
completely ruins the perfect crime. Ted gets
the money. The check clears. But instead of marching
down to the IRS to pay his massive debt, what
does he actually do? He decides to restart his
failing business. And this is the part that just
makes you want to throw something heavy at the
screen. He goes out and leases a brand new Mercedes
Benz SL550. A luxury heated seat. V8 convertible
while he is actively being investigated by the
federal government for severe tax fraud. It is
the absolute definition of incompetence. Skyler
drives by, sees this shiny new silver car parked
right in his driveway, and she just loses it.
She has to. She has no other choice. This forces
her hand completely. She realizes in that moment
that Ted is not going to do the right thing,
or even the smart thing, unless he fully understands
the actual stakes. So she has to break her carefully
constructed character. She walks in and just
tells him. She reveals, I gave you that money.
It wasn't some dead aunt from Europe. It was
me. This is a huge significant step for Skyler's
character arc. She is willingly incriminating
herself to this man just to save her family from
exposure. She's becoming much more proactive,
much more aggressive in her criminality. She
is finally realizing that you cannot control
criminals or deeply delusional people, in Ted's
case, by playing nice and hoping for the best.
You have to use actual leverage. It is so fascinating
to see her trapped in this chaotic web. She is
trying to be the cool, calculated fixer for her
family, just like Mike is the fixer for Gus,
but her tools are so clumsy compared to his.
Exactly. But okay, we really have to move on
from Albuquerque. We have to get to the main
event of the source material. Because while Skylar
is stressing over a Mercedes lease, Gus Fring
is dealing with something infinitely deadlier.
The party. The party at Donaladio's estate. This
is the event that this whole episode, and honestly,
maybe the whole season, has been meticulously
building towards. The physical setting of this
scene is so crucial. It is Don Eladio's lavish
residence. But for Gus Fring, this isn't just
a beautiful house. It is a graveyard. This is
the exact poolside location where decades earlier
Hector Salamanca shot and killed Gus' partner
Max. We saw that deeply traumatic event in the
flashback episode, Hermanos. So this is incredibly
personal. Gus isn't just down there for regular
cartel business. He isn't there just to negotiate
a new distribution deal. Yeah. He is there for
cold, hard revenge. But you would never know
it by looking at him. He plays it so cool. He
plays the totally submissive, highly cooperative
business partner, and he brings a massive peace
offering. The bottle of premium tequila. A Zafiro
Añejo. And just a quick fun sidebar on that specific
detail. Zafiro Añejo is a completely fictional
brand. The production's prop department actually
created it specifically for this universe because
understandably they couldn't get any real high
-end tequila brand to sign off on their product
being used on screen to mass poison people. Yeah
I can see why a brand wouldn't want that association.
But within the context of the story, it visually
represents the absolute top shelf. It's this
rare, incredibly expensive spirit, a gift fit
for a king, or in this case, a cartel boss. So
the vibe by the pool is very celebratory. The
cartel honestly thinks they have won the war.
They have the chemist Jesse who can cook the
pure product. They have the distribution network
locked down. And now they have the great Gus
Fring humbly bowing down to them. And this is
exactly where Gus's tactical genius and his sheer
ruthlessness comes into play. He knows these
men. He knows they do not trust him at all. He
knows Don Eladio is highly paranoid by nature.
He knows that if he just hands over an unsleep
bottle of liquor, Eladio will never drink it.
So what does he do to get past that paranoia?
He drinks it first. It is the ultimate high stakes
bluff. He pours the shots himself. He raises
his glass. He drinks. He even scowls a bit, maybe
deliberately selling the burn of the alcohol
going down, but he drinks it right in front of
them. And seeing him physically swallow it? Don
Eladio relaxes. He thinks, OK, we're good. It's
safe. And then everyone else drinks. Everyone
except Jessie. Right. Gus specifically stops
Jesse, he physically blocks him, or sharply tells
him not to drink. That is such a key detail in
the chaos he is protecting his asset. Or perhaps
protecting the innocent, depending entirely on
how you view Gus's internal morality at this
late stage. He definitely needs Jesse alive to
cook the meth, yes. But more immediately, he
needs Jesse alive to drive them out of there
once the plan goes off. So the toast happens,
the party kicks back into gear, there's music,
girls walking around, cigars being lit, everyone
is having a fantastic time, but then Gus quietly
excuses himself. He walks away to the bathroom,
and this scene inside the bathroom is just so
visceral. It is dead quiet. He isn't panicking
or rushing. He walks in. He meticulously places
a folded towel on the floor to keep his suit
pants clean, which is just such an impossibly
Gus Fring character detail. And then he kneels
in front of the toilet and violently forces himself
to vomit. He is desperately trying to get the
poison out of his own stomach. Exactly. He poisoned
that rare tequila. He knew full well he would
have to drink it to sell the con to Eladio. So
the source material implies he took some sort
of pills beforehand, likely activated charcoal
or a similar binding agent, to significantly
slow the absorption of the toxin in his stomach.
And now he is purging it. But the clock is loudly
ticking. The poison is already entering his bloodstream.
But outside by the pool, the chaos is finally
starting. It starts really slow, a slight stumble
from one of the capos, a confused look. The men
start losing their balance and then the bodies
just start dropping to the pavement. Don Eladio,
the seemingly untouchable, arrogant boss, realizes
way too late what has actually happened. He looks
over at Gus, who has just returned from the bathroom.
Gus looks terrible. He's totally pale. He is
sweating profusely, but he is still standing.
The look Eladio gives him in that moment. It
is pure betrayal mixed with dawn breaking realization.
The look says you drank it too. You killed yourself
to kill me. The image of Eladio clutching his
chest and falling dead into the pool is truly
iconic television. It is and it is deeply symbolic.
He dies falling into the exact same pool where
he ordered Max's death all those years ago. The
water that was once stained with Max's blood
is now his own watery tomb. The narrative circle
is perfectly closed. But it is not a clean getaway
at all is it? Not even close. Gus is severely
compromised. The poison is ravaging his system.
Even with the binding pills and the vomiting,
he's incredibly weak. He can barely walk under
his own power. But he still manages to be absolutely
terrifying. He marches out to the few remaining
henchmen, the lower -level guys who didn't get
to drink the premium tequila, and he delivers
this incredible, chilling line. Don Aladio is
dead. His capos are dead. You have no one left
to fight for. It is brilliant psychological warfare.
He's effectively telling them, go home. The money
is gone. There is no paycheck coming on Friday.
And most of them actually listen. They drop their
weapons and run. But that everyone runs. No.
Joaquin Salamanca does not run. The grandson
of Hector Salamanca. He is there. and he wants
immediate blood for what just happened. Which
leads to the frantic shootout as they try to
escape. Mike, who is arguably the toughest, most
competent guy in the entire show, the invincible
fixer, takes a bullet. It's a really bad hit.
Mike goes down hard. Gus is completely incapacitated
from the poison leaning against the car. They
are absolute sitting ducks in that driveway.
Joaquin is steadily moving in to finish them
both off. And who is the one who actually saves
the day? Jesse Pinkman. The exact same guy who
held a gun completely shaking in the first few
seasons. The guy who couldn't even kill a fly
in the lab without having a nervous breakdown.
He smoothly picks up a gun and he just drops
Joaquin. It is pure unfiltered reflex action.
He does not hesitate for a microsecond. He kills
Joaquin, he rushes over to Mike and Gus, loads
their bleeding poison bodies into a car and he
floors it out of the compound. That final lingering
image of Jesse driving the car away from the
estate. He's the only one fully conscious. He's
the only one physically whole. He went from being
their captive prisoner at the start of the day
to their absolute savior by the end of it. And
think back to the mission we talked about at
the start of this deep dive. The mission was
to analyze exactly how this episode radically
shifts the storylines. Look at exactly where
we end up. Gus finally gets his lifelong revenge,
but he's literally dying in the backseat. Mike
is the ultimate protector, but he is bleeding
out. Jesse, the student, the so -called junkie,
is now the leader. He is the only one in control
of the wheel. It is a total massive inversion
of the established power dynamic. And it perfectly
sets up the explosive, unpredictable finale of
the fourth season. I want to circle back really
quickly to something you mentioned earlier about
the production details. The tequila. You said
it was a fictional brand, but it actually has
a legacy beyond this episode, right? Yes. Zafiro
Añejo. As we mentioned, the prop department created
it from scratch. But what is really cool for
fans of the wider universe is that this exact
bottle design, that distinct blue bottle with
the copper agave stopper, actually shows up much
later in the prequel spin -off show, Better Call
Saul. Oh, really? I missed that connection. Yeah.
Jimmy and Kim drink it in a very pivotal scene.
when they're running cons. It creates this fantastic
continuity link between the two series. It essentially
becomes a visual symbol of dangerous high stakes
scams. Whenever you see that beautiful blue bottle
appear on screen, you know someone is pulling
a massive fast one and it is going to have severe
consequences. I love that kind of detail. It
just makes the fictional universe feel so incredibly
lived in and cohesive. And clearly the TV critics
absolutely love this episode, too. You mentioned
the IGN. and perfect score earlier. Right. Seth
Amitin from IGN reviewed it and called it a quote
unquote masterpiece, giving it a flawless 10
out of 10. Donna Bowman, writing for the AV Club,
gave it a very strong A minus. And even years
later, in a 2019 retrospective, The Ringer ranked
Salud as the 20th best out of all 62 Breaking
Bad episodes. Which is really saying something,
because there are 62 episodes. And honestly,
almost all of them are considered amazing television.
It rates so incredibly high, because it finally
pays off. Viewers had been hearing about Gus's
mysterious history in Chile, about his deep -seated
hatred for the cartel for seasons on end. To
finally see that revenge executed and executed
with such brilliant cinematic flair is just incredibly
satisfying for the audience. But what makes it
a masterpiece is that it balances that massive
action set piece with the quiet, devastating
character work going on with Walt and Skyler
back home. It is not just explosions and mass
poisonings. It is broken families and terrible
financial decisions. That is the quintessential
Breaking Bad magic. It gives you the massive
adrenaline rush, but it absolutely makes you
pay for it with the heavy emotional toll it takes
on the characters. So let's quickly recap the
three distinct worlds we just visited in this
deep dive. We saw Jesse's incredible triumph
in the dirty labs of Mexico. He proved his worth
as a master chemist and then violently saved
his boss's lives. We saw the rapid crumbling
of Walter White's facade in Albuquerque. He is
losing his family's respect by the hour, even
as he desperately tries to lie to keep it. And
we saw the deadly final resolution of Gus Fring's
long -term revenge. The entire cartel leadership
is wiped out in a single brilliant stroke. Salute.
Salute indeed. Before we wrap up today, I have
a final thought I want to throw at you and at
our listeners. Go for it. Gus Fring won. He won
big. He completely eradicated his lifelong enemies.
But to do it, to achieve that victory, he had
to ingest poison. He had to physically break
his own body to get what he wanted. And at the
end of the episode, the quote unquote winners,
Gus, Mike, Jesse, are all physically or mentally
broken. Gus is dying of poison. Mike is shot
and bleeding out. Jesse is deeply traumatized
by having to kill again. It raises a really fascinating
question about the true nature of victory in
this specific universe. Exactly. Is this intentional
foreshadowing by the writers? Is the show actively
telling us that in this dark criminal underworld,
even winning leaves you dying? That is a very
provocative thought to end on. And considering
exactly where the series goes from here in season
five, I think you might be entirely onto something.
There are absolutely no clean getaways in Breaking
Bad. You can win the battle, you can outsmart
the cartel, but you lose a massive piece of your
soul or your physical health in the process.
It is something for you to mull over listeners
as you think back on this incredible hour of
television. What is the true ultimate cost of
saying salute? It is certainly a lot higher than
the price of a rare bottle of tequila. On that
very cheerful note, thank you so much for joining
us on this deep dive. It is always a pleasure
to unpack these details. We will see you next
time. Stay safe out there and always watch what
you drink. Indeed.