Photo courtesy of Netflix
El Camino (2019)
The 2019 film El Camino picks up where “Breaking Bad” left off. The opening scene flashes back to the AMC series, recalling a conversation between El Camino’s protagonist Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul) and the sad-eyed enforcer Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks). Jesse wonders about his future and Mike, in one of his occasional avuncular moods, suggests Alaska. “Up there you can be anything you want… start over, start fresh.”
Now streaming on Netflix, El Camino is part of the “Breaking Bad” universe—a stand-alone alongside the prequel series “Better Call Saul.” After Jesse’s conversation with Mike, the film slams into a 90 mph run from the police as Jesse escapes “Breaking Bad’s” finale and into the virtual chase video game played by his minion-buddies Skinny (Charles Baker) and Badger (Matt Jones). They give him a bed when he turns up on their doorstep, a shower, a set of clothes, a getaway car and some advice: abandon the vehicle south of town—make them think you’re headed Mexico way.
It’s a ruse: actually, Jesse is taking Mike’s advice to go north, but it won’t be an easy drive. He’s wanted for many felonies relating to the meth amphetamine manufacturing he launched with his high school science teacher, Walter White (whom we meet again in flashbacks). His face is spread across TV news and his parents have been enlisted in the media dragnet. Through weary faces, they plead with Jesse to turn himself in.
To escape, he needs a new identity and he knows just the man who can conjure one up for him—a laconic old guy running a vacuum cleaner store. It costs money and the old guy refuses to work for a penny less than his usual rate. El Camino becomes a hunt for the stash of drug money that will pay for Jesse’s new identity. Challenge is that other elements are looking for that same stash of cash.
Unlike the multiple leading characters of “Breaking Bad,” the spotlight is on Jesse, endowed by Aaron Paul with determination, grit, resourcefulness, sensitivity and a troubled conscience. Friendship is an uncertain tie that sees him through some episodes—that and a thin moral line that keeps him aloof from the depravity of his opponents.
The creepiest character Jesse encounters in flashbacks is the innocent-looking sociopath Todd Alquist (Jesse Plemons). Baby-faced and blond-haired, Todd belongs to a neo-Nazi ring funding its crackbrained agenda through selling meth. This is the guy who calmly tells Jesse about murdering the cleaning lady who stumbled across a cache of big bills—and then asks him what kind of soup he’s like for lunch after they roll her body into a rug for concealment. Jesse is silently appalled, aware that he has stepped into a moral universe darker than any he had known.
Writer-director Vince Gilligan (“Breaking Bad’s” creator) has a sharp eye for the visual details and catch phrases of everyday life sharpens the irony to a fine point. Neo-Nazi Todd isn’t listening to death metal but sings along with mushy soft rock as he drives down the highway.
Jesse is conscious of having caused pain but is neither willing to accept punishment nor repeat his mistakes. “Sorry kid, that’s the one thing you can never do,” Mike tells him when asked about putting things right. The only thing Jesse can do is start a new life on a changed path and—sympathetic as he is—we’re rooting for him every mile.
