Just over two thirds of the way through season 5, slogging through to the end of Breaking Bad is turning into a chore, like finishing a novel on principle after losing interest. Which is an odd sort of principle, I suppose, but it accounts for being able to honestly claim to have read several of the books on my shelf.
Breaking Bad has all along seem too contrived to really click. At times it almost feels as if the writers are elbowing you in the ribs: “Did you notice the symbolism there? See how this lecture on chemistry is really foreshadowing key plot events?” Others have noticed it too.
Oh well. Four more episodes to go. The third-to-last one is supposed to be amazing. I’m not holding my breath.