Story Frame 69 – 'Breaking Bad' in Austin with screenwriter, producer and director, Vince Gilligan

In 2013, it felt like I was the only person in Asheville to have seen just one episode of Breaking Bad, the crime drama television series by Vince Gilligan. It’s not that I hadn’t heard about it. Everyone was watching it. Everyone was talking about it. Even down at Greenlife, our local organic market, people were talking about it.

“Hey, did you see Breaking Bad last night?!” my checker asked as he carefully packed up my groceries in the bags I’d brought. This kind of conversation happened back in the days before streaming and on demand television, back when what we called “appointment viewing” was still pretty much the norm. Which gave rise to the so-called water cooler conversations and spontaneous chatter, even from checkers who didn’t work at Trader Joe’s.

“No,” I said politely, hoping he wouldn’t ask me anything else.

He was touching on two things that make me uncomfortable: 1) not being au current with what’s going on in film and television, and 2) checkers who make small talk with me. (I once wrote a letter to Trader Joe’s, asking if they could add a check-out line for introverts and have yet to receive a response.)

“Dude!” my checker exclaimed, cheerfully re-arranging the yogurt and kale in my carrier bag.

I glanced around, thinking he’d recognized someone behind me. But no, his remark appeared to be aimed at me. He tucked a stray blonde dreadlock back up into the arrangement piled on his head, the head he was shaking in disbelief as he thought back on the previous night’s episode of Breaking Bad.

On a side note, this guy has the most amazing long blonde dreadlocks I’ve ever seen. I think he’s also a musician in his nocturnal, not-for-the-paycheck hours. Once upon a time, I used to cue up to check out in his line intentionally because he’s such a sweet-natured guy. That was before I’d overheard him talking to the customer in front of me about the enormous pile of dreads on top of his head. She asked him how long it had taken to amass such volume.

“Oh wow, yeah, like a crazy amount of time!” he responded cheerfully.

“Are they heavy?” the customer asked. “Do they bother you?”

“No, not really,” cheerful checker dude responded with a laugh. “But one time, a little spider actually came out of them and hung down in front of my face!”

Ever since, I have watched carefully for any tiny escapees whenever I find myself in his line.

Getting back to Breaking Bad, the reason I was so woefully behind in my viewing is that I was scared to watch the series, scared it might depress me. Back in the 80s, it had taken me months to get scenes from Apocalypse Now and Deerhunter out of my head. Life was precarious enough as it was for a single, freelancing parent. I had plenty visions of unemployment, losing my house, poverty, not living past 56, and until recently, the IRS to scare me – I didn’t need anything else to keep me awake at night. I admitted I’d only seen the first hour so far.

“I’m going to binge on it soon and catch up,” I lied, grabbing my bags to beat a quick retreat. “Don’t tell me anything – no spoilers please!”

That year, I was promoting a television series about writers and writing on behalf of KLRU, the PBS station in Austin, Texas. Called On Story, it featured segments and interviews from the Austin Film Festival, billed as the only film and television festival just for writers. A perfect blend of my two passions, I thought, and was delighted when the festival director invited me to fly down to Texas to attend.

This wasn’t my first visit to Austin and I was happy to be back. As the festival takes place in multiple venues, every cabbie had a script they wanted to talk about or recite, even to someone who likely couldn’t do anything to help them. I had three pitched to me during the few days I was there.

Upon arrival, I checked into the press area and greeted the festival director. It was the first time we’d actually met in person. Understandably distracted by press, guests and attendees, she took only a quick moment to greet me between conversations.

“Hey, did you see Vince Gilligan is here this week?!” she asked. “Make sure you see him wherever he’s speaking!”

Vince Gilligan, the writer, producer, and director of Breaking Bad, was the star attraction of the Austin Film Festival that year. Able to come and go pretty much as I pleased, I dutifully consulted the festival guide and circled all the sessions with Vince Gilligan, along with the breakout sessions and films I wanted to see.

Check-in complete, I headed over to the theater showing A Birder’s Guide to Everything, a coming-of-age film by Rob Meyer and starting Ben Kingsley. I’m not a birder but that didn’t matter; the film was charming.

Waiting in line to get in, I got into conversation with a very nice and friendly man who worked in computers and intelligence somewhere in Colorado. In the course of explaining what he did for a living and what he knew, he cautioned me to cover up the camera on my computer. He also reiterated that Vince Gilligan was here at the film festival.

“Be sure to see him!” he said.

“Who?” I asked, having momentarily forgotten his name. His eyes opened wide.

“Vince Gilligan!” he said a little louder this time, like I was an idiot, or a foreigner. “The director of Breaking Bad!”

“Oh, right, I’ll be sure to do that,” I said, fully intending to do so. Because I am the kind of person who often takes suggestions from people I’ve only just met, because sometimes I think the universe is nudging me through these random strangers. (It still surprises me how often that seems to work out.)

That afternoon, I went over to KLRU’s studios to watch a taping of “Overheard with Evan Smith,” another series I was promoting. Seeing KLRU’s general manager, Bill Stotesbury, in the studio audience mingling outside the studio before the taping, I went over to say hello. We chatted briefly and then he said, “Hey, did you see that Vince Gilligan is in town for the festival?!” I nodded. Ok, that’s three, I thought. I’d better find him.

Next up on my list, however, was the premiere of a feature film that was premiering here at the festival, Nebraska – a dark comedy drama shot in black-and-white starring Bruce Dern, June Squibb, and Will Forte. I loved it.

Consulting the festival guide as the lights came up, I saw “The Alpha & Omega of Breaking Bad” was starting in just a few moments at the venue next door.

Breaking Bad tells the story of Walter White, a chemistry teacher played by Bryan Cranston, who discovers he has cancer and gets into the meth-making business to pay his medical debts and sock away money for his family after he's gone. Vince Gilligan himself would be speaking. Perfect, I thought. I had just enough time to get there before it started.

The theater was filled nearly to capacity, but seeing my press pass, the gatekeepers waved me in just as the lights were dimming and told me to go upstairs. Whispering apologies for disturbing those already seated, I made my way past a very long row of knees in the darkened theater to the last remaining seat in the balcony’s front row.

The stage lights came up and there was Vince Gilligan sitting in a director’s chair next to the festival interviewer, a bearded young guy in blue jeans and a baseball cap. After a few words of introduction, the stage went dark. Breaking Bad, episode one came up on the screen. Seriously?! I thought in disbelief­. I’ve only seen one episode, and this is the one they’re showing?

I was quickly swept up in the story, however. Knowing what was coming, I could sit back and admire the writing, the acting, and the scene-setting, so it wasn’t a waste of time. In fact, I liked it even better the second time and made a mental note to watch the full series when I got back home.

As the episode came to a close, I anticipated the lights coming back up and a Q&A with Vince Gilligan. Instead, a second episode began. Wow, I thought, a few moments in – the character of Walter White looked so haggard; he’d really aged between the first and second episode! A few minutes passed before it dawned on me, much to my dismay, that I was watching the final episode of the entire series. The omega – of course! In my haste to get in, I hadn’t stopped to ponder the meaning of the title of this session.

Talk about spoilers. Having only just decided to watch the full series, I realized how pointless that would be now that I would soon know how everything ended. I was crushed. Like a fabulous first date that doesn’t end with him asking for your number. Like being asked to leave the restaurant after the appetizer. Not wanting to disturb the long row of knees a second time, I decided to stay.

To my surprise, it turned out to be an amazing way to admire what Vince Gilligan and his team had done. By the time the episode reached its conclusion and the soundtrack of Baby Blue by Badfinger began playing, I was sobbing in the dark recesses of the upper balcony. How ridiculous, I thought, to be so emotionally grabbed by the final episode of a series I hadn’t even seen. Guess I got what I deserved. But wow, what a testament to the show’s writing.

When the lights came back up after the final credits, Vince Gilligan returned to the stage and a thunderous round of applause. He couldn’t have been nicer or more patient with the questions from all the students and aspiring writers in the audience. He explained how the inspiration for a series came from a want ad he saw in a New York City newspaper for an old RV. He told us the character Jesse was originally going to be done away with after the first season, but Aaron Paul turned in such an incredible performance they rewrote the script in order to keep him in it. Gilligan gave credit to everyone else in the series’ green room telling us what a tight team they’d become; throughout all five seasons they’d only made two changes to the original writers. Watching it now, he said, they worked so well as a team he often can’t remember who wrote which lines. Classy guy.

After the film festival, I returned home filled with admiration for what a genuinely nice guy Vince Gilligan is, as well as a head full of inspiration. I still haven’t watched the rest of Breaking Bad, not because I knew how it ended, but because I wanted to stay in awe of the unique alpha and omega experience I’d had.

I did, however, put a band-aid over the little camera eye on my computer.

What to read next … Story Frame 72 ~ Stranger with a Camera

Kristin Fellows is a published artisan writer, a world traveler, and a well-seasoned documentary film consultant. This tale comes to you from a small farming village in Portugal, where she is still surprised to find herself living.

When not writing, Kristin can often be found listening to someone’s story or behind the lens of one of her cameras.

More about Kristin @ kristinfellowswriter.com