Art or Science? Formulating Empathy in Vince Gilligan's Breaking Bad Abby Bentham Abstract When Vince Gilligan pitched the idea for Breaking Bad to studio bosses at the AMC media network, his description of it as ‘a story about a man who transforms himself from Mr. Chips into Scarface’ proved to be enough of a hook to take the show into production. However, whilst this transformation is indeed breath-taking, perhaps the most fascinating thing about the series has been its attempt to manipulate viewers’ emotions. As the show opens, the locus of empathy is Walter White; a terminally ill high school chemistry teacher desperate to provide financially for his disabled, teenaged son and unexpectedly pregnant wife. However, as the narrative arc develops, Walter undergoes a dramatic transformation. His shift from shambling underdog to drug lord poses interesting moral questions which increasingly act as a barrier to empathy and identification with the character. My chapter charts the evolution of Walter White and the characters around him, exploring how their representation in the show affects and manipulates viewer identification through shifts between sympathy, empathy and antipathy. I consider Walter’s characterisation in the context of the other male characters in Breaking Bad and reflect on why such development is denied to the show’s unremittingly negative female characters. Key Words: Empathy, Breaking Bad, Walter White, morality, evil, hero, villain, misogyny, masculinity. ***** 1. The Art of Empathy In the pilot episode of Breaking Bad, Walter White (Bryan Cranston) tells his students: ‘Technically, chemistry is the study of matter, but I prefer to see it as the study of change ... It is growth, then decay, then transformation.’1 The series itself could also be described in these terms, as it charts Walt’s evolution from underachieving, downtrodden cancer victim to feared kingpin in a multi-million dollar methamphetamine empire. Whilst that is undoubtedly an audacious premise for a drama series, the most startling thing about the show is not its subject matter, but its skilful manipulation of viewers and their orientation towards the character. Of course, film and television have a long history of producing charismatic anti-heroes, with characters such as Michael Corleone, Tony Soprano and Dexter Morgan holding privileged places in popular culture. Empathy with such characters is encouraged by a variety of narrative and cinematographic techniques that invite complicity and support identification with the focalising character. Identification, which is distinct from empathy, can be defined as ‘a mechanism through which audience members experience reception and interpretation of the text from the © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���8 | doi �0.��63/9789004360846_009 162 Art or Science? __________________________________________________________________ inside, as if events were happening to them.’2 Jonathan Cohen offers a useful overview of identification as a phenomenon that ‘requires that we forget ourselves and become the other – that we assume for ourselves the identity of the target of our identification.’3 He notes that an important extension of this concept was put forward by Bruno Bettelheim, who observed that ‘identification does not require actively or wilfully taking on the identity of the other but rather, sharing their perspective and internalizing their view of the world.’4 Identification is a temporary state elicited by the subject’s immersion in a fictional world and whilst it can lead to empathy,5 transition between the two states is not inevitable. If viewers do experience empathy for fictional characters, the experience can be intense. When an empathetic and identificatory connection is made to a transgressive screen character such as Walter White or Michael Corleone, viewers can find themselves in an uncomfortable moral hinterland where, for the period of entrancement in the fictional world, s/he accepts and endorses actions and behaviours s/he would not countenance in ‘real life.’ In his article ‘Nobody Here But Us Killers: The Disavowal of Violence in Recent American Films,’6 Thomas M. Leitch describes a number of techniques used by film-makers on which viewers can base a subjective disavowal, so as to reduce the ambivalence that arises from the passive enjoyment of subversive or troubling material. These techniques typically include the use of music or comedy, or the stylisation of violence. In Breaking Bad, for instance, the soundtrack to an early montage of scenes depicting Jesse (Aaron Paul) ‘slinging crystal’ and smoking meth7 is the lounge classic ‘It Is such a Good Night’ by The Charlie Steinmann Orchestra & Singers,8 whilst the infamous prison killing scene, where Walt orchestrates the strategic murders of ten men in two minutes,9 is accompanied by the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole singing ‘Pick yourself Up.’10 In both cases, the light-hearted music enables viewers to gloss over the gruesome nature of the material and suspend moral judgement, even though at times the techniques objectively draw attention to the cognitive dissonance which underpins the disavowal process.11 Such techniques are also at play in The Godfather films, The Sopranos, Dexter and more. Where Breaking Bad diverges sharply from its televisual and cinematic forebears, however, is in its shifting locus of empathy. Walt’s transformation encourages viewers to move between feelings of sympathy, empathy and revulsion, without providing an alternative figure of easy identification. Rather, every character is flawed and complex and it is this depth and diversity that makes the series so interesting. The distinction between sympathy and empathy is important here. As Gavin Fairbairn observes,12 the terms are often confused or used interchangeably. However, they describe distinct states which function in very different ways. Keith Oatley explains: ‘In modern usage, sympathy is generally taken as separate from empathy (feeling with), and usually means feeling for someone in their predicament.’13 Oatley situates sympathy in what he calls ‘emotional memories;’14 .