The Influence of Poetry in Breaking Bad

Abstract

Vince Gilligan’s acclaimed crime drama Breaking Bad charts the transformation of protagonist Walter White (Bryan Cranston) from a respectable, if not meek, high school Chemistry teacher to the ignoble ruler of a methamphetamine drug empire under the alias Heisenberg. In a narrative Gilligan originally described in his pitch to AMC as turning ‘Mr. Chips […] into Scarface’, the central narrative of Walt’s gradual decline from respectability abounds with tragic undertones.[1] The first chapter of this dissertation will outline the position of Breaking Bad within the tragic mode more generally before analysing Walt as a quasi-tragic hero. From this, the second chapter focuses on how Walt Whitman’s poetry informs and drives the narrative of Walt’s gradual decline. This sentiment of poetry complimenting the show’s tragic themes is compounded in the third chapter which demonstrates Walt’s identification with the pharaoh Ozymandias as characterised within Percy Bysshe Shelley’s eponymous sonnet. By invoking Ozymandias, Walt’s downfall within season five is imbued with an epic scale through the thematic as well as cinematic mirroring of Shelley’s poem. The closing chapter will then convey how the inclusion of Marty Robbins’ gunslinger ballad El Paso contributes to Walt’s exalted presentation during the final episode. While not redeeming his villainous characterisation, Walt’s demise ultimately grants him dignity through the heroic imagery employed with Robbins’ lyrics. In this way, the dissertation will outline how the poetry used throughout Breaking Bad informs the tragedy of Walt’s moral decline over the course of the show in the pursuit of societal elevation.

This dissertation is dedicated to Walter and Gus. Thankfully, they are nothing like their namesakes.

Introduction

Since premiering in 2008, Breaking Bad has undergone a meteoric rise to cinematic eminence. As of writing, the show has been nominated for 248 industry awards of which it has won 98, including four Emmys for Bryan Cranston’s portrayal of Walter White.[2] The show initially maintained an underground, cult following with relatively modest ratings of 1.2, 1.7, 2, and 2.6 million concurrent viewers for the respective premiers of seasons one through four.[3] However, by the debut of the season five finale, Breaking Bad shattered its previous records with a monumental 10.3 million viewers tuning in.[4] Even years after wrapping up, consumers have maintained a hunger for Gilligan’s sordid world of moral ambiguity. This can be seen through the popularity of adjunct Breaking Bad media including the El Camino movie as well as the series Better Call Saul. That is not to say that the principal narrative laid out by Gilligan has been completely overshadowed by more recent adaptations within the franchise. February 2023 saw the release of an advert for the ‘Pop Corners’ crisp brand in which Cranston alongside Aaron Paul and Raymond Cruz reprised and parodied their roles within the show.[5] There has even emerged a stereotype surrounding the evangelical qualities of Breaking Bad devotees who, much like myself, feel a compelling urge to make others sit down and watch upwards of sixty hours of excellent television. All this is to say that the influence of Breaking Bad on and within popular culture is extensive and shows no apparent signs of dissipating in the imminent future.

Concerning the burgeoning field of academic engagement with Breaking Bad, extensive work has been carried out by Lara C. Stache, Elliott Logan and Angelo Restivo. These academics have each published books analysing the cinematographic and thematic techniques utilised within the show and their relation to twenty-first-century American cultural developments. While these publications are insightful when investigating Breaking Bad from a film studies perspective, they are also limited by this discipline. Stache and Logan entirely omit the mention of literary allusions while the occasional notes Restivo dedicates to Walt Whitman conjure a reductive image of the poet as a metaphor for homosexual love. That is not to say that academics have completely failed to engage with the literary references in Breaking Bad. On the contrary, Brian Gibson has published an article analysing the poetry referenced in the show relating to Romanticism while Paul A. Cantor has discussed the parallels between Walt’s characterisation and those of Shakespearean tragic heroes. This dissertation intends to further the interdisciplinary engagement with Breaking Bad while bridging the gap between the criticisms offered by Gibson and Cantor. Instead of viewing tragedy and poetry in isolation, this dissertation will demonstrate how the poems referenced within Breaking Bad contribute to the tragic presentation of the show’s protagonist.

The poetry analysed features from the oeuvres of Whitman and Percy Bysshe Shelley but progresses to encapsulate a ballad credited to the more contemporary figure of Marty Robbins. It should also be noted that not all the screenplays created for Breaking Bad have been published, including those for the entirety of season two, season four as well as the majority of season five (except for Ozymandias and Felina). As such, quotations included in this dissertation are necessarily required to fluctuate between those found within the screenplays and those derived from transcribing episode subtitles. Moreover, future studies into Breaking Bad in the advent of more available screenplays will enable a more thorough examination of the show than is currently possible at the time of writing. I believe that access to additional material would only serve to validate the complementary relationship between Walt’s tragic characterisation and the poetry included in the show, although that, of course, remains to be seen.

Breaking Bad & Tragedy

To examine the influences of the poetry within Breaking Bad it is necessary to first establish the tragic context that they come to complement. For this dissertation, I will be viewing the theme of hubris bringing about a character’s gradual decline from respectability as a defining feature within Classical modes of tragedy, and a recurring trope within Early Modern iterations of the genre. It would be a reductive oversimplification to suggest that Breaking Bad conforms entirely to Classical or Early Modern tragic models. This is primarily because Walt’s middle-class, emasculated presentation in season one excludes him from complete identification with the tragic hero archetype with its expository grandeur. The only nobility that Walt eventually obtains lies in the titles of meth “kingpin” and “drug lord”, both of which are shallow imitations of the authentic, aristocratic elevation characteristic of an Oedipus or Hamlet. It is, therefore, more appropriate to view the tragic elements of Breaking Bad using the more contemporary sentiments of Arthur Miller and the tragedy of the common man:

the common man is as apt a subject for tragedy in its highest sense as kings are […] the tragic feeling is evoked in us when we are in the presence of a character who is ready to lay down his life, if need be, to secure one thing – his sense of personal dignity.[6]

Dignity is the proverbial flame to which Walt is steadily drawn from the show’s genesis, the pursuit of which leads to the sacrifice of the respectable life he has built before his literal death from a stray bullet. Miller is particularly insightful in recognising that this ‘dignity’ is ‘personal’ rather than objective. Walt subjectively believes that he deserves a more elevated, dignified position within society, although it is hubris that facilitates such a worldview. It is in this way that Breaking Bad possesses notable tragic elements while not completely conforming to traditional or more contemporary models for the genre. This section will demonstrate how hubris manifests the dissatisfaction with which Walt views his societal position before catalysing his descent into vice and criminality.

The pilot episode of Breaking Bad (S1, E1) expresses the vocational dissatisfaction Walt experiences teaching high school chemistry. This is achieved by contrasting two interrelating scenes, the first of which features an establishing shot of Walt gazing at an old accolade for work contributing to a Nobel Prize (Figure 1).

Figure 1

While on one hand demonstrating the extent of his scientific erudition, the soft blue lighting also ascribes a melancholic tone to this meditation. This sense of despondency becomes fully realised following Walt’s subsequent attempts to inspire a class of high-school students:

Chemistry is the study of change. (a beat) Think about it. Electrons change their orbits, molecules change their bonds. Elements combine and change into compounds. That’s all of life, right? The constant… (shrug) The cycle. Solution, dissolution, over and over.[7]

By including imperative language, the repetition of ‘change’ and a rhetorical question, Gilligan conveys Walt’s passion for Chemistry alongside an adeptness for persuasive teaching. These sentiments are compounded through the scene’s visual elements with a dazzling manipulation of a Bunsen burner’s flame (Figure 2).

Figure 2

However, this display is quickly undermined following the interruption of archetypal jock, Chad, loudly conversing at the back of the class: ‘Handsome, blonde Chad sits slouched in the back with his hand jammed in the lap of his cheerleader Girlfriend. He whispers to her and she giggles. Walt snaps out of it’.[8] While the actor playing Chad (Evan Bobrick) lacks the blondeness stipulated in Gilligan’s screenplay, the purpose of the character remains to emasculate Walt by undermining his pedagogical authority within the classroom. Following this exchange, Walt’s dialogue loses its earlier vivacity and marks a despairing end to the scene: ‘Alright, Ionic bonds. Chapter six’.[9] By contrasting the engaging, lyricality of his initial teaching with the mundane invocation of a textbook, Gilligan depicts Walt’s unsatisfactory experience within education in which he is broken by displays of apathy amongst his students. In this sense, Gilligan’s comparison likening Walt to Mr Chips is unfounded. Walt lacks the motivation and faith required to consistently inspire his students and is therefore far removed from the exemplary image of the infallible schoolteacher that Mr Chips personifies.[10] Instead, the impression is of Walt being entirely unsuited to a role that he believes himself to be overqualified for and underappreciated within.

Walt continues to be emasculated throughout this episode through the authoritative presentation of his wife, Skyler (Anna Gunn). The marital dynamic between Walt and Skyler engages with the preconceived association between Cranston and his portrayal of the ineffective patriarch Hal Wilkerson in the sitcom Malcolm in the Middle.[11] Marvin Carlson observes that ‘The recycled body of an actor […] will almost inevitably in a new role evoke the ghost or ghosts of previous roles […] a phenomenon that often colours and indeed may dominate the reception process’.[12] This notion is integral to an understanding of Walt’s character within season one and the influence that the ghost of the bumbling, uninfluential Hal exudes over audience reception. Skyler’s apathetic delivery of a disheartening hand-job while watching an eBay listing is an appropriately comic manifestation of this parallelism:

Skyler plays with him, out of sight below frame. A beat.

Skyler: What are you doing tomorrow?

Walt: (Shrug) Actually, I was thinking about, um. Maybe drive to Caltech.

Skyler: You’re not gonna mow?

Walt: Yeah, I’ll mow. JPL’s got an exhibit of Mars rover photographs. Supposed to be, the detail… just really amazing. Really beautiful.

Skyler: I just need you to mow at some point.[13]

While Walt appears on screen, it is the image of Hal that is invoked with the portrayal of a domineering wife literally and metaphorically holding their husband by the balls. This asymmetry of power is reinforced by the dialogue, in which the adventurous imagery of space exploration becomes subdued by the domestic mundanity of lawnmowing. It is, therefore, appropriate to acknowledge that the ghost of Cranston’s previous performance does dominate reception as Carlson observes the potential for. However, such an observation is only applicable during Walt’s introduction. What makes Breaking Bad fascinating is observing the gradual exorcism of Hal’s ghost as Walt begins to gain authority through his interaction and participation within the criminal sphere.

Gilligan conveys the appeal of criminality for Walt through the exhilaration it provides, but also as a means of satiating his hubristic worldview. This is achieved in the same episode by contrasting his demoralizing classroom exploits with a thrilling montage of methamphetamine synthesis inside a dilapidated RV. In this sequence, the rapid transitioning of shots alongside the driving music of Dead Fingers Talking imbues the demonstration with a sense of excitement notably absent within the classroom scene.[14] Through the hyper-stylised framing, the audience is invited to experience the same enjoyment and satisfaction Walt finds in “cooking” meth for the first time and his decision to “Break Bad”. In addition, the variation in the behaviour of Walt’s partner Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul) throughout the scene conveys a constructive pedagogical relationship between the two: ‘Seeing the way Walt works, seeing that he really knows his stuff, Dupree[15] [Jesse] acts more respectful. He even starts wearing his safety gear. Clearly, he’s learning from Walt’.[16] The repetition of ‘seeing’ compounds the dichotomy between Walt the invisible high school teacher and the visible, respected Chemist whose abilities Jesse greatly admires. Paul Cantor appropriately acknowledges how, at this point in the narrative, Walt’s ‘motives were relatively innocent’ given ‘that he turns to crime for the sake of his family, to provide for his wife and children’.[17] However, it is important to note how Walt’s hubris nefariously compromises what Cantor perceives to be relatively innocent. The drive to protect the family unit belies Walt’s desire to be seen as a hyper-masculine figure deserving of the recognition and patriarchal authority this position affords. This sentiment is reflected in the episode’s concluding scene where Walt sexually dominates Skyler:

Out of sight under the covers, he fumbles with her panties, pulls them down. Surprised as hell, Skyler nonetheless allows it. She feels around behind her.

Skyler: Oh my God. Is that you?[18]

Walt’s passivity during their earlier sexual encounter is contrasted with a newfound authoritative agency. This act is at once a literal and metaphorical representation of the satisfaction and power Walt experiences having his exorbitant sense of pride and self-worth placated. Because it is in this illicit world where Walt’s pedagogical authority is respected and his skills as a Chemist are recognised. Criminality might enable the growing dissonance between Walt and the meek characterisation so intimately associated with Hal, but it is hubris that facilitates his continued descent into depravity and the criminal underworld.

Walt’s desire to be seen as a hyper-masculine protector and provider by his family and the wider community is continuously expressed throughout the show. The patriarchal position Walt aspires to can be seen in Seven Thirty-Seven (S2, E1) with Walt calculating the amount required for his family to obtain economic security: ‘Two kids, four years of college, 360,000 dollars. Remaining mortgage on the home, 107,000 […] Cost of living, food, clothing, utilities […] Seven hundred and thirty-seven thousand. That’s what I need’.[19] While the mental maths on display is a further testament to Walt’s erudition, the number ‘Seven hundred and thirty-seven’ ominously draws a parallel between his hubristic pursuit of patriarchal authority and its disastrous real-world consequences. In the season two finale, one of the planes that crash as an indirect consequence of Walt’s actions, Wayfarer 515, is a Boeing 737 commercial airliner.[20] In this way, destruction and death are directly linked with Walt’s desire to achieve a dignified position within the domestic sphere. The extent of this patriarchal drive is compounded in Mas (S3, E5) during the recruitment pitch of meth distributor Gus Fring (Giancarlo Esposito) who directly appeals to Walt’s delusional worldview:

When you have children, you always have family. They will always be your priority. Your responsibility. And a man..? A man provides. And he does it even when he’s not appreciated… or respected… or even loved. He simply bears up, and he does it. Because he’s a man.[21]

Through the repetition of ‘man’ and the pronoun ‘he’, masculinity is directly equated with the ability to protect and safeguard the family unit. In addition, the hardships expressed within Gus’ speech with the absence of appreciation, respect and love further compound the dignified sense of martyrdom Walt associates with his pursuits. Gus’ flawed logic directly appeals to Walt as a way of justifying the growing dissonance between him and his family. Regardless of the means, Walt strives to obtain the idealised position of the breadwinning patriarch so that he might satisfy his hubristic proclivities.

Gilligan demonstrates how Walt’s hubris stems from the knowledge of his wasted potential. This is depicted in Gray Matter (S1, E5) through the introduction of Walt’s ex-business partners, Gretchen and Elliot Schwartz (Jessica Hecht and Adam Godley). While Gretchen also represents this to an extent, it is Elliot who serves as the principal personification of the success Walt could have achieved had he not left the company in its infancy. This sentiment is expressed as Walt explores the Schwartzs’ grand library: ‘Walt takes it all in. Jealousy, regret, the knowledge of what might have been, washing over him like a tidal wave’.[22] The ostentatious library setting serves as both a metaphorical representation and a literal embodiment of the affluent life Walt could have possessed. Furthermore, the simile ‘washing over him like a tidal wave’ conveys the crushing magnitude with which Walt perceives this lost potential. To convey Walt’s despairing idolisation of his ex-business partner, the camera then frames him from the ground, gazing up at pictures of Elliot on the covers of acclaimed scientific magazines (Figure 3).

Figure 3

With the focus primarily on Elliot, Walt’s marginalisation by the camera serves as a microcosm for the dichotomous dynamic between the two men. Where Elliot has been graced with fame, prosperity and an intellectually stimulating career, Walt’s vocation is characterised by obscurity, financial hardship, and apathy. Through this contrast, the audience is encouraged to sympathise with Walt and see him vindicated in the belief that he could have achieved a similarly elevated societal position.

Sympathy for Walt is continually evoked within Gray Matter, to the extent that the audience is encouraged to approve of his illicit, clandestine activities. A key source of this sympathy arises from Walt’s submissive demeanour. Concerning the physicality of Walt in season one, Cranston noted in an interview that, ‘Walt carried a lot of grief and weight on his shoulders and so I just physicalized that […] I looked at my Dad, my Dad’s now eighty-nine’.[23] With his hunched shoulders and diminutive posture, Cranston succeeds in portraying Walt as a man far beyond his years, brought physically low by the hardships and humiliations he has endured. Cranston’s mastery of physicality can be seen during Walt’s interaction with the Schwartzs’ friends:

Scientist: So you run the company with Elliot?

Farley: No, no that’s – That’s Gretchen and Elliot.

Walt: Yeah, yeah. You know I, I gravitated toward education.

Scientist: Ah. What university?[24]

Walt’s awkwardness is made palpable through Cranston’s oscillating movements: the shifting of weight from leg to leg, hyperbolic gesticulations, fidgeting with a champagne flute and the continued submersion of his hands into his pockets. All these physical traits are made more pronounced through juxtaposing the static, comfortable demeanour of the other men. In addition, the repetition of ‘Yeah’ and ‘I’ draw out Walt’s dialogue to convey a degree of rambling inarticulacy demonstrative of his diffidence within this social setting. It is notable that the original screenplay does not feature the scientist’s final remark and therefore ends without compromising Walt’s reputation. However, through the line’s addition, the dramatic irony of knowing that “high-school teacher” falls beneath the vocational standards of the Schwartzs’ pompous guests is amplified. What before only held the implication of internal despair is redirected into the overt punchline of Walt’s public humiliation. This pitiful display allows the audience to encourage Walt’s clandestine behaviour so that he might defy these humiliations and gain the recognition and dignity currently absent from his life.

Walt’s complexity as a character arises, in part, because despite having the audience’s sympathy, it is undermined by the notions of entitlement that he consistently displays. It is paradoxical that, despite desiring to see Walt’s societal position elevated, it is entirely undesirable to see how he demands and expresses these sentiments. This can be seen during an exchange between him and Skyler concerning a job offer from Elliot:

Walt: He offered me a job.

Skyler: What?

Walt: Yes. Kind of like some fig leaf, you know. Some face-saving bullshit that allowed me to generously accept his charity.[25]

The simile comparing Elliot’s gesture to the idiomatic ‘fig leaf’ betrays Walt’s cynicism in equating an act of charity with a bribe intended to conceal Elliot’s sins. It is the arrogance underlying this self-imposed victimhood that creates the separation between the audience’s notions of warranted pride and Walt’s hubristic delusions. These sentiments are compounded during a heated exchange between Walt and Gretchen in Peekaboo (S2, E6):

Walt: And you waving your checkbook around… like some magic wand is going to make me forget… how you and Elliot… How you and Elliot cut me out?

Gretchen: What? That can’t be how you see it.

Walt: It was my hard work, my research, and you and Elliot made millions off it.

[…]

Gretchen: I feel so sorry for you Walt…

Walt: Fuck you.[26]

The bitterness with which these sentiments are delivered establishes Walt’s pride as excessive and detrimental rather than in any way warranted. This wrongful indignation from Walt is amplified by juxtaposing the more controlled, sombre tone of Gretchen. Pathos is evoked during these encounters by reminding the audience of the success and happiness Walt could have achieved had he not rejected Elliot’s job offer. It, therefore, manifests that Walt’s hubris facilitates his downfall while gradually eroding the audience’s sympathies. In this way, Walt partly aligns with the tragic hero archetype, although his tragic characterisation becomes fully realised through the addition of Whitman’s poetry.

Walt Whitman & Walter White

As Walt continues to participate within the criminal sphere, a range of Whitman poems are incorporated from season three onwards. This section will demonstrate how these poems emphasise the tragedy of Walt’s gradual decline while simultaneously facilitating that descent. In this way, poetry provides the subtext for Walt’s characterisation while overtly influencing events in the later seasons of Breaking Bad.

The first inclusion of Whitman’s poetry occurs during Sunset (S3, E6) following another montage of meth cooking featuring Walt and his new lab partner, Gale Boetticher (David Costabile). Before analysing the poem itself, it is important to note how pathos is generated through the idyllic framing of Walt and Gale working together: ‘Visually… slow-mo, elegant wipes, split-screen, 360 degree stop-motion stills, fancy dissolves, time-lapse… this should be a celebration of chemistry…’[27] This stylish cinematography allows for the gracefulness with which the two work to be reflected by the balletic, whimsicality of the scene’s composition. The writer and director of this episode, John Shiban, notes that there was an attempt to convey ‘a nice budding romance’ between Walt and Gale during this episode.[28] While Shiban’s allusion to the romantic potential between the two men is appropriate, it is also a totalizing oversimplification. The portrayal of Walt and Gale as silhouettes (Figure 4) later in the scene compounds how their characterisation transcends romantic or platonic potential.

Figure 4

Cast against the darkness of the silent laboratory, the depersonalising lighting conveys a dissociation between the individual character and the scientist construct. Such that at this moment, Walt and Gale personify the romance between the scientist figure and their craft. Through this presentation, Walt’s capabilities are expressed as he comfortably embodies the role of the adept scientist situated within the imposing super-lab. This ultimately evokes pathos through the distorted vision of what Walt could have been had he legally realised his potential, whether that be at Gray Matter or elsewhere.

The pathos surrounding Walt’s idealised presentation then becomes augmented through Gale’s rendition of When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer by Whitman:

When I heard the learn’d astronomer;

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;

When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;

When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;

Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.[29]

Brian Gibson argues that ‘Gale distorts and reduces the poem […] into a romance of lab work as the freest way to conjure up Chemistry’s magic’.[30] However, Gibson’s argument becomes limited when viewing Whitman’s poem as an expression of Negative Capability. This is defined by John Keats as ‘when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason’.[31] Keats’ ideology is demonstrated by the poem’s progression, where the first four lines express a gruelling monotony through anaphora alongside the lines’ syllabic count gradually increasing from nine, fourteen, seventeen and finally twenty-three. The drawn-out, laborious structure mirrors the content in which the speaker becomes increasingly bored and disinterested in the cold philosophy of figures, charts, and diagrams that make up the astronomer’s lecture. Once the speaker escapes to nature, the poem is imbued with a mystical sense of awe through the prevalent use of alliteration: ‘mystical moist’, the fricative ‘time to time’ and the sibilance ‘silence at the stars’. The breathless sensation of reading these lines manifests for the reader that same sensation of wonder and uncertainty characteristic of Negative Capability. Ultimately, the speaker rejects the astronomer’s pedantic dissection of the world, choosing instead to appreciate and prioritise the mystery and uncertainty that it evokes. Gale reflects these sentiments directly following the cook:

Gale: I love the lab. Because it’s all still magic, you know? Chemistry? I mean, once you lose that…

Walt: (very quiet) It is, it is magic. It still is.[32]

Through the addition of the interjection ‘you know?’, the sentence transitions from a confident declarative into an uncertain interrogative. In this way, the sentence structure reflects Gale’s trepidation in laying bare his passions while daring to equate the rigidity of the scientific method with the fluidity of fiction. This sense of wonder is also reinforced by the reverential tone expressed in Walt’s quiet, reflective response. Rather than the poem’s inclusion being a reduction as Gibson argues, it serves to compound a moment of intimacy between the two scientists and the majesty of their craft. It is at this moment that the two men allow themselves to comfortably exist in a state of mystery and uncertainty before Chemistry’s magic. This image effectively augments Walt’s idealised presentation, although the associated pathos is also reinforced as his moral degradation serves as the price for vocational fulfilment.

Whitman’s poetry also overtly influences the narrative of Breaking Bad throughout seasons three to five. Given that Gale is the only character to orally recite a poem in its entirety, an association is created between him and Whitman that bridges the gap between the criminal and legitimate spheres. This can be seen in Half Measures (S3, E12) where a reference is made to Whitman’s Song of Myself while Walt and his son, Walter Jr (RJ Mitte), watch an episode of Jeopardy:

Contestant #2 (O.S)[33]: Four letter word. 2000.

Alex Trebek (O.S): A loud, harsh cry; Walt Whitman’s was “barbaric”.

Walter Jr: “Yell”

Walt: (quietly) What is “yawp”?[34]

Through the association between Whitman and Gale, the reference allows for the shadow of Walt’s criminal occupation to encroach upon a moment of domestic bliss. At the same time, the violence of the ‘barbaric yawp’ foreshadows the eventual conflict that extends from the criminal sphere into the domestic space in season five. As a motif, Whitman’s verse continues to obscure the boundaries between the criminal and legitimate spheres even after Gale’s death. This is conveyed further during Bullet Points (S4, E4) as Walt and his DEA agent brother-in-law, Hank Schrader (Dean Norris), discuss an entry made in Gale’s notebook:

Hank: Right here at the top it says: “To W.W. My star, my perfect silence”. W.W. I mean, who do you figure that is? Woodrow Wilson? Willy Wonka? Walter White?

Walt: You got me.[35]

The ghost of Gale speaks through Whitman’s verse and threatens to compromise the façade of respectability that shields Walt from punishment under the law and through complete social ostracization. While there is levity in Norris’ delivery, it juxtaposes and in doing so compounds the tension manifested by dramatic irony. Hank has made the connection between Walt and Heisenberg yet faith in the image of the placid high-school teacher dominates his perception. Walt raises his hands in mock confession and still, the parallel is too ludicrous for Hank to believe, such that Woodrow Wilson and Willy Wonka seem more likely candidates for the role of meth kingpin. This scene’s framing reflects this confusion as Walt and Hank are cast in the same melancholic, blue lighting as Walt’s award from season one (Figure 5).

Figure 5

The dimmed lighting metaphorically represents the theme of obscurity within the show in which characters’ true identities and motivations are often difficult to perceive. In these ways, Whitman’s verse plays a crucial role in threatening to dissolve the boundaries between the domestic and lawful spheres by revealing Walt’s criminal identity.

The obscuration between domesticity and the criminal underworld is ultimately breached through the resurgence of Whitman’s verse in Gliding Over All (S5, E8). To further compound the separation between Breaking Bad and the aristocratic elevation of Classical and Early Modern tragedy, the moment of anagnorisis occurs on a porcelain rather than a gilded throne. Hank reaches behind the toilet and finds the copy of Leaves of Grass gifted to Walt by Gale in Sunset (Figure 6) with a damning dedication inside:

Figure 6

To my other favourite W.W.

It’s an honour working with you.

Fondly.

G.B.

The apathetic treatment of this piece of evidence is a testament to Walt’s hubristic belief that he is completely beyond suspicion. Just as Whitman returns thematically within the episode, the title ‘Gliding Over All’ is a standardised title of the poem Gliding o’er All by Whitman:

Gliding o’er all, through all,

Through Nature, Time, and Space,

As a ship on the waters advancing,

The voyage of the soul—not life alone,

Death, many deaths I’ll sing.[36]

The structural intrusion of Whitman’s poetry within the episode’s title mirrors the destabilising influence that the copy of Leaves of Grass exudes within the narrative. Given that this episode marked the eleven months break between the first and second halves of season five being broadcast, Whitman’s final line serves as an effective cliff-hanger. Within the context of Hank having just discovered Heisenberg’s identity, the line ominously alludes to the deaths and conflict that will inevitably follow this revelation.

Whitman’s verse also parallels Walt’s evolving characterisation across the show. This can be seen in the same episode with the framing of Whitman’s speaker resembling Walt as he orchestrates the murder of ten witnesses. The sequence is presented through a stylish montage featuring gruesome deaths set to the upbeat tune of Pick Yourself Up by Nat King Cole.[37] There is a deliberate irony throughout this sequence as the levity of lyrics triumphing the indomitability of the human spirit is undercut with images of brutality and murder. The juxtaposition conveys Walt’s apathetic treatment of violence and is a notable contrast from the Walt of season one who had to write a pros and cons list (Figure 7) concerning the decision to murder Krazy-8 (Maximino Arciniega Jr) in And the Bag’s in the River (S1, E3).

Figure 7

The iteration of Walt within Gliding Over All displays no such inner turmoil as the camera repeatedly cuts back to his calm, contemplative countenance (Figure 8).

Figure 8

This absence of visible emotion points to Walt’s moral degradation in which he is completely removed from the malignity of his actions. Just as the speaker in Whitman’s poem glides over all, it is Heisenberg, not Walt, who now presides over all. Furthermore, this transformation points to another interpretation of the ‘many deaths’ as a metaphorical representation of the loss of Walt’s earlier characterisation within season one. Walt’s soul continues to advance on the waters of time and space although it has undergone a radical transformation through the rise of the Heisenberg identity.

Another parallel to the gliding of Whitman’s speaker emerges during a montage celebrating the prosperity of Walt’s meth empire. The elegance of Walt’s business dealings is depicted through the seamless transition between disparate images. A notably stylish instance of this can be seen in the transition between Walt’s lawyer, Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk), pouring himself a drink (Figure 9) and methylamine draining from a vat (Figure 10).

Figure 9

Figure 10

Angelo Restivo eloquently refers to this montage as ‘a vast procession of characters and vehicles moving through space, cutting into the flows of drugs and money’.[38] While this analysis is appropriate, Restivo’s conclusions are limited in scope. This argument can be taken further by recognising the parallelism between Whitman’s verse and the montage’s construction. There is undeniably a sensation of ebb and flow within this sequence as Restivo notes, although it also directly reflects the steady progression depicted in Whitman’s poem. Just as the camera seamlessly progresses across disparate images, the poem’s speaker effortlessly advances on the waters of space and time. This parallelism is demonstrated during the montage’s final shot which features a birds-eye view of the camera panning over the suburbs of Albuquerque (Figure 11).

Figure 11

To encapsulate the scope of Walt’s empire, the camera glides over his domain to demonstrate the extent of his control. In this way, Whitman’s verse is echoed not just thematically, but also within the episode’s visual construction.

Parallel imagery is utilised further in the episode to emphasise the extent of Walt’s transformation and decline. This is achieved through incorporating imagery that resembles and yet contrasts scenes from prior seasons. In Bit by a Dead Bee (S2, E3), following a violent confrontation between Walt and crime boss Tuco Salamanca (Raymond Cruz), there is a shot of a painting hanging in Walt’s hospital room (Figure 12).

Figure 12

With the image of the man rowing out to sea, the painting metaphorically represents the increasing distance between Walt and his family as he pursues his criminal enterprise. By depicting the rower moving towards a distant vessel, there is also the implication that the man’s departure is in the pursuit of providing financially for his family, just as Walt claims to be doing. Within Gliding Over All, the same painting returns, although this time it is located within the sordid compound of a group of neo-Nazis Walt has become involved with (Figure 13).

Figure 13

While both paintings feature the same image, the later iteration has become deformed with yellow discolouration and blemishes that contrast the vibrant hues of the principal. This dichotomy illustrates the corruption of the dream Walt once held by the reality of his heinous actions. In the pursuit of dignity and patriarchal authority, Walt’s moral degradation has violated the familial bonds he claims to uphold. This sentiment is expressed further by contrasting one of the final scenes from Gray Matter, in which Walt embraces Skyler and concedes to undergoing chemotherapy (Figure 14).

Figure 14

While in one sense yet another indication of Walt’s meekness, the ambient music coupled with the soft rays of dawn entering through the window expresses to a greater extent the reciprocated love between man and wife. Gliding Over All presents a parody of this earlier intimacy as Walt again approaches Skyler from behind only this time to announce his exiting of the meth business (Figure 15).

Figure 15

The prior scene’s intimacy is replaced with the cold resentment of Skyler staring at a man she no longer recognises. This tragic reversal is compounded by the complete absence of music alongside noticeably darker lighting. Through these two sets of parallel images, the impression is of the martial bonds between Walt and Skyler having been irrevocably sundered. In his pursuit of elevation, Walt’s degradation has compromised the familial dynamic he claims to uphold and revere. However, it is through the allusions to Shelley’s sonnet Ozymandias later in the season that the monumental scale of Walt’s moral and social ruination is manifested.

Walter White as Ozymandias

In Ozymandias (S5, E14), poetry continues to characterise Walt through references to Percy Bysshe Shelley’s sonnet for which the episode is eponymously titled. The episode’s significance is reflected by its critical reception for which it remains the highest-rated episode of Breaking Bad on IMDB, with a perfect score, and boasts a near-perfect score on Metacritic.[39] This section will demonstrate how Walt is deliberately identified with the vision of Ozymandias presented within Shelley’s sonnet. It is through this identification that an epic scale is applied to Walt’s downfall within season five.

While this characterisation occurs most significantly within Ozymandias, the parallel between Walt and the tyrannical Egyptian pharaoh is first suggested within the promotional marketing for the second half of season five. The promotion features a reading of Shelley’s sonnet by Cranston set to a procession of locations and characters from the show:

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert… Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”[40]

Shelley’s descriptions of the conceited pharaoh are framed by shots of Walt from various episodes in season five. As Cranston states ‘sneer of cold command’ the image presented is of Walt’s supercilious frown within Gliding Over All (Figure 16).

Figure 16

Moreover, the line’s harsh, guttural alliteration parallels the autocratic disposition brutally displayed by Walt throughout this episode. Another example is the line ‘My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings’ being set to a shot of Walt from Say My Name (S5, E7) during a negotiation between him and a rival meth dealer based in Phoenix (Figure 17):

Figure 17

Declan: Who the hell are you?

Walt: You know. You all know exactly who I am. Say my name.

[…]

Declan: You’re Heisenberg.

Walt: You’re goddamn right.[41]

Both Walt and Ozymandias are depicted revelling in positions of authority at the head of their respective empires, demanding that their greatness be recognised. However, one crucial difference is that where Ozymandias attempts to enforce recognition onto others, Walt arrogantly insists that his identity is already known. The act of declaring kingliness paradoxically betrays a relinquishing of power that Walt refuses to lower himself to. Through this parallelism, Walt became identified with the tyrannical, arrogant figure of Ozymandias before the eponymous episode even become available to view.

In the episode Ozymandias, imagery is deliberately employed paralleling Shelley’s sonnet to reflect the desolate state of Walt’s circumstances. This is presented first in the opening sequence, which features a flashback to the pilot episode with Walt and Jesse cooking for the first time. Pathos is evoked during this scene by contrasting the nostalgia for the relative ease of life in season one with the reality that these events are irrevocably lost to the depths of the past. This is demonstrated as Walt walks away to talk with his then-pregnant wife on the phone:

Walt: I was thinking that it might be nice to have some family time this weekend.

[…]

Skyler: Oh yeah?

Walt: Take a drive somewhere. The almost four of us.

Skyler: Where did you have in mind?

Walt: Well maybe we could head up the Turquoise Trail. Stop at Tinkertown, maybe grab some lunch in Madrid.[42]

The warmness of this loving exchange between husband and wife is pitifully undermined by dramatic irony. While these sentiments express a cohesive, familial dynamic, the audience knows that these events never occur. Walt will inevitably spend the following days deliberating how to murder the captive Krazy-8 before disposing of his body alongside that of the already deceased Emilio (John Koyama). It is the futility of this exchange that evokes the pathos that is amplified in the scene’s conclusion:

Behind Walt, amid the red rocks, the RV FADES AWAY and disappears.

[…]

Then Jesse FADES AWAY and vanishes.

Then finally, Walt FADES OUT and away. The past is past.

All we’re left with is the empty, elegiac terrain.[43]

Just as the sibilance in Shelley’s final line presents a sighing lament for the crumbling of the present into the past, the New Mexico desert is similarly personified as it silently mourns the more optimistic circumstances of season one. By having this bleak tableau mirror the setting of Shelley’s sonnet, the scene foreshadows the fading away of Walt’s last vestiges of respectability alongside his criminal empire later in the episode.

Walt’s ruination in Ozymandias is heralded by Hank’s death at the hands of Jack Welker (Michael Bowen), the leader of the neo-Nazi group previously mentioned. This devastating event marks a tonal shift not only within the episode but also in season five more generally:

Jack shoots Hank in the head.

BANG. The SOUND of this single shot reverberates off the red rocks.

[…]

Crying soundlessly, Walt collapses onto his side, face in the dirt, tears streaming, snot dribbling. A husk of a man. Ozymandias.[44]

The haunting sound of the gunshot compounds the significance of this moment and the definitive, unreconcilable nature of Hank’s death. Walt’s subsequent fall to the ground is then framed cinematically to resemble the collapse of Ozymandias’ statue. Concerning this framing, the episode’s writer, Moira Walley-Beckett, noted in a commentary that a brittle platform resembling the desert floor was placed in front of Cranston so that when he impacted the ground ‘it broke apart like puzzle pieces […] and dust wafted up’.[45] Through this special effect, the ‘shattered visage’ of Ozymandias is paralleled by Walt’s broken figure; such that his impact resembles that of a much larger structure collapsing into the dirt (Figure 18).

Figure 18

While the sound of Walt’s grief is initially deafened following the gunshot, what remains is the muted sound of wind whistling across the desert landscape as a further parallel to the desolation of Shelley’s poem. It is with this image that the camera lingers for fourteen seconds, with Walt lying in the dust and ruins of his life and empire. Through the parallelism between Ozymandias and Walt, an epic scale is ascribed to his tragic undoing which solidifies the significance of these events. While the full ramifications of Hank’s death occur later, there is an understanding that the patriarchal position Walt aspires to has been irrevocably lost amidst the shifting desert sands.

As the episode continues, the violence of the criminal sphere finally extends fully into the domestic space and brings with it the shattering of the last vestiges of unity between Walt and his family. This can be seen where, following the realisation that Walt has been responsible for Hank’s death, Skyler brandishes a knife to protect herself: ‘She looks at the phone in front of her. Is she about to call the police? Then… the BUTCHER BLOCK catches her eye. Suddenly transfixed, she edges a hand toward it… pulls free a large BUTCHER KNIFE’.[46] Skyler has already called the police on Walt once before in I.F.T (S3, E3) and so this decision to favour the knife is a testament to her desperation. Through this subversion of the audience’s expectations, Skyler’s primal, maternal instincts are made shockingly apparent. Walt’s presence represents an immediate threat to her safety and that of her children such that she is forced to take drastic action. The tragedy of this event is expressed through another instance of parallelism. In Seven Thirty-Seven Walt returns a large knife to a butcher block (Figure 19) after anxiously fearing that the ruthless drug lord Tuco might seek to harm him and his family.

Figure 19

Ironically, the same knife is wielded against Walt in Ozymandias (Figure 20).

Figure 20

Walt has become the same threat to his family that he once attempted to protect them from. This harrowing reversal culminates following a brief struggle between Walt, Skyler and Walt Jr:

He stumbles to his feet, takes a few steps back and pauses, panting, gripping the knife. Blood runs down his arm and hand, dripping off his fingers onto the floor.

Walt: (roaring) What the hell’s wrong with you?! We’re a FAMILY!

Skyler sobs on the floor. Junior kneels next to his mother, shielding and protecting her. They both stare up fearfully at furious, foaming, bloody Walt.[47]

Before the blood on Walt’s hands has been mostly metaphorical, although this moment reveals his true, savage nature before the eyes of his cowering family. This is achieved primarily through Walley-Beckett’s animalistic directions with Walt ‘roaring’ and ‘foaming’ at the mouth. His bestial characterisation is compounded through the fricative alliteration: ‘fearfully at furious, foaming’ which encourages the aggressive spitting of these words. In this way, the violence of Walt’s description reflects his deranged, grotesque presentation in this scene. Just as the grandiose assertions of Ozymandias now lie shattered and broken on the desert floor, the episode sees the delusions Walt once held crushed under the reality of his harrowing crimes. He is not the protector of his family, but a villainous intruder caked in the dirt and blood of criminality. Walt’s recognition of this disillusionment is demonstrated as he gazes on at the scene before him: ‘He suddenly sees himself as they see him’.[48] The empire and familial bonds of the tyrannical Heisenberg lay shattered before him leaving little else but for the tragic narrative to continue steadily onward towards its inevitable conclusion.

Felina and the Outlaw

It is significant that during the final episode of Breaking Bad, Felina (S5, E16), the conclusion of Walt’s character arc is marked by a shift away from the high cultural poetics of Whitman and Shelley and towards the demotic lyrics of Marty Robbins. This tonal shift coincides with a more glamorous portrayal of Walt finding dignity amongst the scattered ruins of his life. In this way, lyrical poetry continues to influence audience reception by glorifying the tragic conclusion of Walt’s descent into villainy.

Marty Robbins’ lyrics frame the concluding episode of Breaking Bad to glorify rather than lament Walt’s demise. While the title ‘Felina’ serves as an anagram for ‘Finale’, it is also a slight variation on the name of the enchanting ‘young maiden’ depicted within Robbins’ ballad El Paso: ‘Blacker than night were the eyes of Feleena / Wicked and evil while casting her spell’ (5-6).[49] When applied to the context of Breaking Bad, the femme fatale, Feleena, serves as a metaphor for criminality, which Walt has become infatuated with and corrupted by. This is problematic as it suggests a relinquishing of culpability, with Walt being helpless to the bewitching influence of the criminal sphere. The parallelism between Walt and the speaker in Robbins’ ballad continues, where, after murdering one of Feleena’s suitors, he is forced to flee El Paso:

The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor

 

Just for a moment, I stood there in silence

Shocked by the foul, evil deed I had done

Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there

I had but one chance, and that was to run[50]

The speaker standing in a state of disbelief before their horrific actions mirrors Ozymandias’ conclusion with Walt stunned before his terrified family. As a direct consequence of his involvement with criminality, Walt, like the speaker, is condemned by his community and forced to flee. This parallelism continues the problematic romanticisation of Walt’s character by equating his bestial actions in Ozymandias with those of a gallant gunslinger. Felina’s opening scene compounds this presentation by having an excerpt from El Paso play as Walt prepares to drive back from New Hampshire to Albuquerque:

The ice-cold Volvo lugs only once, then fires right up. When it does, the cassette deck kicks on. That great old Marty Robbins classic, “El Paso,” is in mid-run.

MARTY ROBBINS

I saddled up and away I did go,

Riding alone in the dark.

Maybe tomorrow

A bullet may find me.

Tonight nothing’s worse than this

Pain in my heart.[51]

With these accompanying lyrics, the image conveyed is not of a villainous tyrant returning to face the justice of death, but of a valiant cowboy returning from exile in pursuit of their lost love. This valorised presentation is conveyed principally through the treacherous framing of the gunslinger’s journey: travelling alone in the darkness under the imminent threat of death. In this way, Breaking Bad ironically identifies Walt with an archetypal figure of masculinity in the form of the Western outlaw. Rather than condemning Walt’s decline from respectability, this final romanticised image conveys a certain glorious heroism associated with his pursuits.

Walt’s elevated presentation in the final episode is also expressed through his acceptance of the villainous role within the narrative. This can be seen first with Walt confronting Gretchen and Elliot moments after they return home:

Elliott slowly, protectively falls in beside his wife. They both stand in awe. It’s like Dracula has materialized in their midst…

[…]

frightened Elliott eases in front of his wife, just a little. He slo-oowly raises his knife.

Walt is singularly unimpressed.

Walt: Elliot if we’re gonna go that way, you’re gonna need a bigger knife.[52]

The demonic impression Walt makes on the terrified couple is expressed first through the simile likening him to Dracula, although this is taken further in the final cut through the addition of music from Charles Gounod’s opera Faust.[53] As Elliot feebly raises the knife against Walt (Figure 21), the music crescendos before cutting back to Walt’s stoic countenance.

Figure 21

Through this exchange, the impression is of the Heisenberg mythos ascending, or rather descending, to the infernal position of the chthonic figures from classic literature: Dracula and Mephistopheles. Regardless of Walt’s increasingly weak body in the concluding episodes of Breaking Bad, the strength of the Heisenberg mythology is still capable of inciting fear. Rather than denying his villainous character, Walt’s controlling, authoritative tone demonstrates an embracing of his infamous reputation. The self-knowledge Walt demonstrates can be seen additionally during the final encounter between Walt and Skyler later in the episode:

Walt: Skyler, all these things I did… you need to understand why I did them.

Skyler: (sick and bone-weary) Oh, god. If you say one more time how you did it all for the family —

Walt: — I did it for me.

[…]

Walt: I liked it. I was good at it, I was really… (then; simply) I was alive.[54]

The prior extravagant claims to be safeguarding the family unit are contrasted with the simplicity of Walt’s response. This is reflected further through repetition of the ‘I’ pronoun which conveys a recognition of culpability and the selfish nature of Walt’s motivations. That the desire to elevate the collective ‘we’ of the family only served as a façade to conceal Walt’s hubristic desire to dignify his societal position. Through his demonstration of self-knowledge, Walt is not re-instated as the hero but instead comes to accept his villainous characterisation. In the end, Walt knows exactly who and what he is. While he cannot be commended for what he has become, there is an undeniable dignity within that self-knowledge irrespective of morality.

Within the final moments of Breaking Bad, the show’s tragic conclusion depicts the glorious demise of the show’s deeply flawed protagonist. Gibson offers an insightful critique of Felina in that it depicts ‘a romantic, Western storyline (outsider returns to town to wreak vengeance on a nefarious gang), with shots not only aligned with Walt’s POV but ultimately exalting it’.[55] Gibson is inciteful in recognising how the structure mirrors Western archetypes, especially concerning the ‘nefarious’ nature of the gang. It is a further testament to Walt’s villainous characterisation that the men he returns to enact vengeance on are a group of neo-Nazis, a fact that is continuously reinforced through the conspicuous swastika tattoos the members display (Figure 22).

Figure 22

Their participation in murdering Hank and torturing Jesse is not sufficient in inciting the audience’s disgust. To make the audience revere and exalt Walt’s actions in gunning them down as Gibson argues, they must also be aligned with the odious ideology of Nazism. However, this argument surrounding Walt’s idealised presentation can be taken further through the continued reading of Robbins’ El Paso. Following the gunfight, Walt reveals to the audience what proves to be a fatal gunshot wound to his abdomen (Figure 23).

Figure 23

This injury continues the parallelism between Walt and the speaker in Robbins’ ballad who is shot by pursuing cowboys:

Something is dreadfully wrong, for I feel

A deep burning pain in my side

Though I am trying to stay in the saddle

I’m getting weary, unable to ride.[56]

The weariness of the speaker comes to reflect Walt’s final moments in the show, lethargically walking through and inspecting a variety of lab equipment kept in the compound before gently resting his bloody hand on a vat (Figure 24):‘Walt is back where he belongs. He’s back with his True Love’.[57]

Figure 24

From this shot the hand slips and Walt’s lifeless body falls to the ground, enveloped in the loving embrace of the lab. With this final image, the parallel between Walt and the speaker in El Paso is complete:

Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side

Cradled by two loving arms that I’ll die for

One little kiss, and Feleena, goodbye.[58]

While both Walt and the speaker face justice for their actions, the presentation of their demise affords them considerable dignity. In the end, Walt’s death is not indulgent in its cruelty but for the valorised presentation of his final moments in the show. Despite the tragic nature of Walt’s descent into vice and criminality, the audience is encouraged to exalt his position through the romanticised image of the wounded outlaw succumbing to their injuries. As he reminisces on his glory days working as a chemist, the audience too is invited to share in that reflection by recalling their enthralled experience watching Walt’s evolution. While the man himself is not a hero worth commending, his disregard of anonymity in favour of mercurial fame is an undeniably heroic pursuit. This is compounded in the show’s final shot, as the camera sours above Walt’s lifeless body (Figure 25) accompanied by the lyrics of Baby Blue:

Guess I got what I deserved

Kept you waitin’ there too long, my love

All that time, without a word

Didn’t know you’d think that I’d forget

Or I’d regret

 

The special love I have for you

My baby blue[59]

Figure 25

This final track compounds the presentation expressed in Robbins’ ballad. Ultimately, the catharsis evoked at this moment is derived from Walt facing the consequences of his crimes, while simultaneously acknowledging the motivations behind his actions. The adoration for the blue crystal meth Walt became renowned for, his ‘baby blue’, is the final testament to his hubristic desire to achieve recognition and glory in a life devoid of all such idealised notions. In this way, the lyrics included in the final episode of Breaking Bad dignify Walt’s death, having realised his ambitions and, in that glorious pursuit, become undone and vanquished by them.

Conclusion

This dissertation contends that the poetry included in Breaking Bad directly influences and compliments the tragic presentation of the show’s protagonist. This is demonstrated first with Whitman’s verse mirroring Walt’s characterisation throughout his descent into the sordid criminal underworld. Then, through the incorporation of Shelley’s Ozymandias, the magnitude of Walt’s undoing within the latter half of season five is conveyed as his empire and familial bonds lie scattered and broken about him. Finally, with the depiction of Walt’s demise in the concluding episode, Robbins’ ballad valorises his villainous end. In this way, the poetry used throughout Breaking Bad effectively complements the tragedy of Walt’s decline and eventual demise in the pursuit of dignity and societal elevation. However, this dissertation does not claim to provide an extensive encapsulation of all literary allusions within Breaking Bad. Thankfully, the show provides a wealth of additional referencing outside of the poetic medium that can be savoured and analysed in future academic works. These include a parallel between Skyler and Ophelia in Fifty-One (S5, E4) alongside a simile likening Walt to Sisyphus in the Ozymandias screenplay. As such, further work investigating Breaking Bad from a literary-orientated perspective will invariably demonstrate how the echoes of older “high-cultural” narratives continue to exude influence over the products of contemporary popular culture.