The hearts of posterity are hard-won but sticky. As time passes, the selected-for characteristics of a work of art move from novelty to craftsmanship. If a song survives 20 years of having been played on the radio, then it certainly has something going for it. It will probably survive another 20 (ignoring my casual use of a sophisticated observation). Okay, maybe that song is still coasting on nostalgia for people coming of age then. So wait another 20 years and see if it's still around. And another 20. And another, and another and another. And at some point a work of art - no matter how deep the hype had ever gone - must find its own momentum if it is to survive. At some point there is naught but a melody. And whether that melody is good enough to be sung or historical enough to be remembered becomes that melody's primary sustaining justification.
So forgive my skepticism when someone talks about legacies in real time as an artist or a sports figure is just coming into their own. Forgive my skepticism when we get any speculation not rooted in posterity about the Greatest of All Time. Forgive my skepticism when critics figure to discern what is all-consumed flash of ephemeral and what is all-consuming pan of posterity.
And forgive my skepticism when critics talk about Breaking Bad as the greatest television show of all time.
Okay, here's where I say outright: I love Breaking Bad. I consume it like a snake, wrapping myself around its entirety and assuming its approximate shape. I watch the show, listen to the podcast, even watch that abominably loud Chris Hardwick-hosted Talking Bad. I read critical opinions of the show constantly, read speculation, comment threads, and even write blog posts about it on occasion. The show keeps outdoing itself and seems completely poised to "stick the landing," as they say. The episodes this season have seemed to get better and better, a general trend that stems from the creators' attention to detail and the writers' extensive breaking period that allows every episode to draw on all the momentum of prior episodes and seasons.
And here's where I say outright: Breaking Bad certainly has positioned itself quite well for GOAT status and consideration - garnering near-universal acclaim by critics, looking like a respectable voice-of-its-particular-era candidate, and having the benefit of competing with a medium that greenlights "Crank Yankers" and a medium that has tarnished nearly every show's legacy before it by awkwardly stretching out a show too long or cutting it too short. Breaking Bad going for GOAT status would be sort of like you or I going for the Great American Novel award when every other novel has had some Harrison Bergeron-like handicaps in its authorship. This is all before factoring in TV's historical stigma as a medium for art (if not totally, then at least partially). And, what's undeniable: Breaking Bad already has a great deal of posterity. The first season - while a shadow of what the show would become - already has 5.5 years under its belt and holds up pretty damn well. Finally, Breaking Bad hasn't just changed the conventions of its genre; it has outright achieved this remarkable feat with craftsmanship on par (at least) with the other, most-beloved shows of its era.
But I'll just caution that history has a way of magnifying flaws, catching up to works of exceptional quality on the backs of those works, and simply forgetting the most seminal shows. We'll all remember where we were when Breaking Bad finishes up. But there's a good possibility that the massively-serialized format combined with the massive length won't be sustainable for generations that follow. War And Peace is actually a fairly easy read if we're just talking basic ability to get through, if infinitely subtle and fun, but 1000 pages is 1000 pages. A month is still a month, even if you can read it a chapter at a time. I'd love to project what the future will look like, but it's possible a show that uses silence and comic timing and subtle maneuvering for weeks before getting to a payoff just won't hold up in the very long run. And, what's more, as much as we might want to preserve the show? Eventually we'll get older and have less time to promote it and the work will have to stand alone. And suddenly - without that social pressure - 60 hours becomes a lot less appealing to later generations that may have more immediately appealing options.
All in all, I have nothing against the masterpiece of Breaking Bad that has given us so many hours of tension, reflection, entertainment, and unforgettable characters and moments. I want Breaking Bad to be remembered and, if it indeed shows lasting quality in 20 years, I want its true greatness to be known.
But then, it's not my decision.
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