Walter White is an abuser. We know he is a grade-A emotional manipulator, yes, but what has become increasingly evident over the last several seasons is that he's something far more dangerous and terrible, all the more so when we haven't known exactly what to what to call him. Abuse, at its core, is about dominance; it's about control, which has always been the watchword of Heisenberg.
The coercive tactics Walt employs with systematic regularity are well-documented not only in domestic violence situations but also other forms of coercion, like the so-called Stockholm Syndrome that hostages experience, the brainwashing method of cults, or even the torture perpetrated on prisoners of war. Yes, Walt's abuse is not physical, but therein lies the trick: He destroys the people around him in a way that leaves no marks, no evidence. (Remember the way Walt forced his way back into his home in Season 3, and Skyler finally called the police to remove him? They asked if he'd hit her, and when she said no, they shrugged and left.)
Consider also the "confessions" we've seen Walt make over the years -- most of them lies, and all of them designed to conceal even bigger deceptions. But the most important one, at least until now, was the first one: the opening scene of the pilot episode, where a shaking, desperate Walt looked into a video camera and insisted that he did it all for his family. The confession we see in the latest episode (aptly named "Confessions") is a dark mirror of that initial moment, a blackmail video that begins with the same line ("My name is Walter Hartwell White") before showing us another terrified, weeping man -- one who falsely implicates Hank as the true Heisenberg. The differences between the two videos are a measure of both what Walt has gained and what he has lost: the genuine love, humility, and fear we saw in those truly desperate moments replaced by egotism and manipulation.
The horror of this video comes not only from realization that Walt has plausibly implicated Hank in nearly every one of his crimes, but the contrast between the fragile desperation of the man who appears in the video and the calculation of mastermind who created it. We don't actually see Walt in the confession that he records for Hank: we see Heisenberg, wearing Walt's skin like Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs.
That's the man who shows up for the world's most awkward double date at a local Mexican restaurant as well, asking Hank why he wants to "tear this family apart." True to form, Walt plays the Think of the Children card so hard that it somehow makes Hank revealing Walt's horrific crimes seem like the true moral lapse: "Junior just found out that my cancer is back. He's already facing the idea of living without his father. To put this on top of that -- it's just not right."
If this shift in responsibility seems familiar, that's because we've seen Walt do this before in order to divide and conquer his foes, turning the enormity of his actions into a mandate for concealing them. The first step for the abuser is a simple one: Isolating the victim, particlarly from any support systems they may have. When Walt finally revealed the secret of his meth manufacturing to Skyler, he created a separate world, layered on top of the existing one and nearly identical except for one crucial detail: this one contained the truth. And it was a world where he convinced her – slowly and successfully, using their children as collateral – that they had to live alone, unless she wanted to ruin everything. If she told anyone, even her closest family members, then it wouldn't be his crimes that destroyed their family, but rather her – and her failure to conceal them.
Anna Gunn, the actor who plays Skyler, recently wrote an op-ed in the New York Times about the vitriolic and almost homicidal hatred many viewers feel towards Skyler. Even more disturbing is the reason why she says so many of them seem to feel that hatred: Because for several seasons Skyler actually challenged Walt's behavior, and failed to capitulate to his manipulation as quickly or as fully as they would have liked.
For those viewers who find their empathy for other human beings stunted by misogyny and limited by gender, perhaps it will be easier to identify with Walt's latest victim: Hank Schrader. A foul-mouthed, bar-brawling DEA agent, Hank is also no stranger to tactics of intimidation, although his methods are far more direct. But if Hank is the man who will charge you like a bull, Walt is the matador. In a way, it's like watching Ned Stark try to take out Littlefinger. And I'm pretty sure we all remember how that went down.
Tough guy or not, the game that Walt runs on Hank is remarkably similar to the one he ran on Skyler, and begins the same way – by isolating him from the only people who could help him. And so far, it seems equally effective. Getting involved with Walter White has always been like driving over traffic spikes; once you're in, there's no way out without destroying yourself. When Hank returns home and admits to Marie that he hasn't told the DEA about Walt yet, it's telling how similar her criticisms sound to the way people sometimes respond to battered women who refuse to leave: Why didn't you report him to the police? Why are you making excuses? What's wrong with you – don't you want to get out of this situation? The answer, often, is that people don't get out because they truly feel like they can't.
It's the same reason we've seen both Skyler and Jesse dissolve into semi-fugue states: They're trapped, and worse, they've been stripped of the will to fight. They're tarantulas in glass jars with holes poked in the top so they can breathe, alive but paralyzed, with no way out. Think of the way dogs skirt around the edge of an invisible fence at the edge of a yard even after the electric current has been turned off. There's nothing stopping them, really, except that the idea of leaving has become impossible.
That's where we find Jesse this episode, zoning in and out as the police attempt to interrogate him. Jesse, who has arguably suffered more abuse from Walt than even Skyler. Every time he's tried to form a significant connection outside of Walt – Jane, Andrea, Brock, Mike – Walt has taken every single one of them away, either through direct or indirect means. Of all the characters on the show, Jesse is perhaps the loneliest; there's a moment after his beating by Hank in Season 3 when he tells Walt, "Ever since I met you, everything I ever cared about is gone! Ruined, turned to shit, dead, ever since I hooked up with the great Heisenberg! I have never been more alone! I have NOTHING! NO ONE!"
Which isn't true, of course. He always has Walt, in the end, just the way Walt wants. And so no matter how many times he ends up in the hospital because of Walt, no matter how many murders he is party to because of Walt, he finds himself going back to Walt over and over and over. Think of the the way Jesse leapt in between Mike's gun and Walt during their showdown, desperately trying to protect the man who systematically destroyed him.
This is also the great irony of Jesse's enduring hatred of Hank: After Hank beat him up, Jesse reacted with the righteous, vengeful fury that you'd expect. And yet Jesse continues to protect Walt, even though Walt has caused immeasurably more harm to him than Hank ever could. Even now, as Jesse articulates exactly what Walt is doing to him ("Can you just stop working me for like 10 seconds straight?") he still can't help but collapse into Walt's arms for a hug when the older man offers him emotional support. Despite all the terrible things Walt has done, and made him do, Jesse still needs him, if only because Walt has taken away everything and everyone else he cared about. It's not love, exactly – it's forced co-dependency. But that is Walt's favorite kind of love: the kind that gives him complete control.
What did Walt say when Gus Fring asked why Walt insisted on keeping Jesse in his operation? "Because he does what I say." And that's why we ultimately find Jesse on the side of the road at the end of the episode, waiting for a ride to the new life in Alaska -- not because he decides it's time to leave, but because Walt says so.
And then, right before he gets in the car, his revelation -- that Walt poisoned Brock to turn him against Gus Fring -- finally opens the floodgates, breaks the jar, and sets Jesse loose on the rampage we've been waiting for. His reaction pinpoints the one loophole in Walt's doctrine of mutually assured destruction: It doesn't work on people who are willing to destroy themselves. So what happens when Walt truly loses control of one of his victims, especially one who seems willing to light himself on fire as long as it catches Walt in the flames?
Previous recaps:
Season 5, Episode 10: "Buried"
Season 5, Episode 9: "Blood Money"
